The
Star
Kins

"What a paradox, what a fearful reproach, when the dis-
tinction of a few hundred miles—nay, as many feet or even
inches!—can transform heinous crime to simple unqualified
circumstance!"

.. . Hm. Balder Bashin, in the Ecclesiarchic Nuncia-
mento of Year 1000 at Foresse, on the planet Kroki-
nole.

"Law cannot reach where enforcement will not follow."
. . . Popular aphorism.

Excerpts from "Smade of Smade's Planet," feature ar-
ticle in Cosmopolis, October, 1923:

Q: Do you ever get lonesome, Mr. Smade?
A:  Not with three wives and eleven children.
Q: Whatever impelled you to settle here? A rather dis-
mal world, on the whole, isn't it?
A:  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder- I don't care to

run a vacation resort.

Q: What kind of people patronize the tavern?
A:  People who want quiet and a chance to rest. Oc-
casionally a traveler from inside the Pale or an ex-
plorer.

Q: I've heard that some of your clientele is pretty
rough. In fact—not to mince words—it's the gen-
eral belief that Smade's Tavern is frequented by

THE DEMON PRINCES

the most notorious pirates and freebooters of the
Beyond.

A:  I suppose they occasionally need rest too.

Q: Don't you have difficulty with these people? Main-
taining order, so to speak?

A: No. They know my rules. I say, "Gentlemen, please
desist. Your differences are your own; they are fu-
gitive. The harmonious atmosphere of the tavern is
mine and I intend it to be permanent."

Q: So then they desist?

A:  Usually.

Q: And if not?

A:  I pitch them into the sea.

Smade was a reticent man. His origins and early life were known
only to himself. In the year 1479 he acquired a cargo of fine timber,
which, for a whole set of obscure reasons, he took to a small stony
world in the middle Beyond. And there, with the help of ten in-
dentured artisans and as many slaves, he built Smade's Tavern.

The site was a long narrow shelf of heath between the Smade
Mountains and Sinade Ocean, precisely on the planet's equator. He
built to a plan as old as construction itself, using stone for the walls,
timber beams and plates of schist for the roof. Completed, the tav-
ern clung to the landscape, as integral as an outcrop of rock: a long
two-storied structure with a high gable, a double row of windows
in front and rear, chimneys at either end venting smoke from fires
of fossil moss. At the rear stood a group of cypress trees, their shape
and foliage completely appropriate to the landscape.

Smade introduced other new features into the ecology: in a
sheltered valley behind the tavern he planted fodder and garden
truck; in another he kept a small herd of cattle and a flock of poul-
try. All did moderately well, but showed no disposition to overrun
the planet.

Smade's dominion extended as far as he cared to claim—there
was no other habitation on the planet—but he chose to assert con-
trol only over an area of perhaps three acres, within the bounds of
a whitewashed stone fence. From occurrences beyond the fence
Smade held aloof, unless he had reason to consider his own interests
threatened—a contingency which had never arisen.

Smade's Planet was the single companion of Smade's Star, an

THE STAR KING

undistinguished white dwarf in a relatively empty region of space.
The native flora was sparse: lichen, moss, primitive vines and pal-
odendron, pelagic algae which tinctured the sea black. The fauna
was even simpler: white worms in the seabottom muck; a few ge-
latinous creatures which gathered and ingested the black algae in a
ludicrously inept fashion; an assortment of simple protozoa.
Smade's alterations of the planet's ecology could hardly, therefore,
be considered detrimental.

Smade himself was tall, broad, and stout, with bone-white skin
and jet-black hair. His antecedents, as has been mentioned, were
vague, and he never had been heard to reminisce; the tavern, how-
ever, was managed with the utmost decorum. The three wives lived
in harmony, the children were handsome and well-mannered,
Smade himself was unfailingly polite. His rates were high, but his
hospitality was generous, and he made no difficulties about collect-
ing his bill. A sign hung above the bar: "Eat and drink without
stint. He who can and does pay is a customer. He who cannot and
does not pay is a guest of the establishment."'

Smade's patrons were diverse: explorers, locators, Jarnell tech-
nicians, private agents in search of lost men or stolen treasure, more
rarely an IPCC representative—or "weasel," in the argot of the
Beyond. Others were folk more dire, and these were of as many
sorts as there were crimes to be named. Making a virtue of neces-
sity, Smade presented the same face to all.

To Smade's Tavern in the July of 1524 came Kirth Gersen,
representing himself as a locater. His boat was the standard model
leased by the estate houses within the Oikumene, a thirty-foot cyl-
inder equipped with no more than bare necessities: in the bow the
monitor-autopilot duplex, a star-finder, chronometer, macroscope,
and manual controls; midships the living quarters with air machine,
organic reconverter, information bank, and storage; aft the energy
block, the Jarnell intersplit, and further storage. The boat was as
scarred and dented as any; Gersen's personal disguise was no more
than well-worn clothes and natural taciturnity. Smade accepted him
on his own terms.

"Will you stay awhile, Mr. Gersen?"

"Two or three days, perhaps. I have things to think over."

Smade nodded in profound understanding. "We're slack just
now; just you and the Star King. You'll find all the quiet you need."

"I'll be pleased for that," said Gersen, which was quite true; his

THE DEMON PRINCES

Just-completed affairs had left him with a set of unresolved qualms.
He turned awav, then halted and looked back as Smade's words
penetrated his consciousness. "There's a Star King here, at the tav-

i="

"He has presented himself so."

"I've never seen a Star King. Not that I know of."

Smade nodded politely to indicate that the gossip had reached
to the allowable limits of particularity. He indicated the tavern
clock: "Our local time; better set your watch. Supper at seven
o'clock, just half an hour."

Gersen climbed stone stairs to his room, an austere cubicle con-
taining bed, chair and table. He looked through the window, along
the verge of heath between mountain and ocean. Two spacecraft
occupied the landing field: his own and another ship, larger and
heavier, evidently the property of the Star King.

Gersen washed in a hall bathroom, then returned to the down-
stairs hall, where he dined on the produce of Smade's own gardens
and herd. Two other guests made their appearance. The first was
the Star King, who strode to the far end of the room in a flutter
of rich garments: an individual with skin dyed jet black, eyes like
ebony cabochons as black as his skin. He was taller than average
height, and carried himself with consummate arrogance. Lusterless
as charcoal, the skin dve blurred the contrast of bis features, made
his face a protean mask. His garments were dramatically fanciful:

breeches of orange silk, a loose scarlet robe with white sash, a loose
striped gray and black coif which hung rakishly down the right side
of his head. Gersen inspected him with open curiosity. This was
the first Star King he had observed as such, though popular belief
had hundreds moving incognito through the worlds of man: cosmic
mysteries since the first human visit to Lambda Grus.

The second of the guests apparently had just arrived: a thin
middle-aged man of indefinite racial background. Gersen had seen
many like him, miscellaneous uncategorized vagabonds of the Be-
yond. He had short coarse white hair, a sallow undyed skin, an air
of diffident uncertainty. He ate without appetite, looking back and
forth between Gersen and the Star King in furtive speculation, but
it seemed as if presently his most searching glances were directed
toward Gersen. Gersen tried to avoid the increasingly insistent
gaze; the least of his desires was involvement in the affairs of a
stranger.

THE STAR KING

After dinner, as Gersen sat watching the play of lightning over
the ocean, the man sidled close, wincing and grimacing in sheer
nervousness. He spoke in a voice which he tried to keep even, but
which trembled nevertheless. "I assume that you are here from
Brinktown?"

From childhood Gersen had concealed his emotions behind a
careful, if somewhat saturnine, imperturbability; but the man's
question, jangling upon his own alarms and tensions, startled him.
He paused before replying, gave a mild assent. "As a matter of fact,
I am."

"I expected to see someone else. But no matter. I've decided
that I can't fulfill my obligation. Your Journey is pointless. That's
all." He stood back, teeth showing in a humorless grin—obviously
braced against an expected dire reaction.

Gersen smiled politely, shook his head- "You mistake me for
someone else."

The other peered down in disbelief. "But you are here from
Brinktown?"

"What of that?"

The man made a forlorn gesture. "No matter. I expected—but
no matter." After a moment he said, "I noticed your ship—model
9B. You're a locater, then."

"Correct."

The man refused to be discouraged by Gersen's terseness.
"You're on your way out? Or in?"

"Out." Then, deciding that it was as well to circumstantiace his
role, he added, "I can't say that I've had luck."

The other man's tension suddenly gave way. His shoulders
sagged. "I own to the same line of business. As to luck—" He
heaved a forlorn sigh, and Gersen smelled Smade's home-distilled
whiskey. "If it's bad, no doubt I have myself to blame."

Gersen's suspicion was not completely lulled. The man's voice
was well-modulated, his accent educated—in itself indicating noth-
ing. He might be precisely as he represented himself: a locater in
some sort of trouble at Brinktown. Or he might be otherwise: a
situation entailing a set of hair-raising corollaries, Gersen would
vastly have preferred the company of his own thoughts, but it was
an act of elementary precaution to look more deeply into the mat-
ter. He drew a deep sigh and, feeling faintly sorry for himself, made
a courteous, if wry, gesture.

THE DEMON PRINCES

"Do you care to join me?"

"Thank you." The man seated himself gratefully, and with a
new air of bravado seemed to dismiss all of his worries and appre-
hensions. "My name is Teehalt, Lugo Teehalt. Will you drink?"
Without waiting for assent he signaled one of Smade's young
daughters, a girl of nine or ten, wearing a modest white blouse and
long black skirt. "I'll use whiskey, lass, and serve this gentleman
whatever he decides for himself."

Teehalt appeared to derive strength either from the drink or
from the prospect of conversation. His voice became firmer, his
eyes clearer and brighter. "How long have you been out?"

"Four or five months," said Gersen, in his role oflocater. "I've
seen nothing but rock and mud and sulfar ... I don't know whether
it's worth the toil."

Teehalt smiled, nodded slowly. "But still—isn't there always
excitement? The star gleams and lights up its circlet of planets. And
you ask yourself, will it be now? And time after dme: the smoke
and ammonia, the weird crystals, the winds of monoxide, the rains
of acid. But you go on and on and on. Perhaps in the region ahead
the elements coalesce into nobler forms. Of course it's the same
slime and black trap and methane snow. And then suddenly: there
it is. Utter beauty. ..."

Gersen sipped his whiskey without comment. Teehalt appar-
ently was a gentleman, well-mannered and educated, sadly come
down in the world.

Teehalt continued, half talking to himself. "Where the luck lies,
that I don't know. I'm sure of nothing. Good luck looks to be bad
luck, disappointment seems happier than success. . .. But then, bad
luck I would never have recognized as good luck, and called it bad
luck still, and who can confuse disappointment with success? Not
I. So it's all one and life proceeds regardless."

Gersen began to relax. This sort of incoherence, at once en-
gaging and suggestive of a deeper wisdom, could not be imagined
among his enemies. Unless they hired a madman? Gersen made a
cautious contribution: "Uncertainty hurts more than ignorance."

Teehalt inspected him with respect, as if the statement had been
one of profound wisdom. "You can't believe that a man is the better
for ignorance?"

"Cases vary," said Gersen, in as easy and light a manner as was
natural to him. "It's clear that uncertainty breeds indecision, which

THE STAR KING                                      9

is a dead halt. An ignorant man can act. As for right or wrong—

each man to his own answer. There never has been a true consen-
_»)

sus.

Teehalt smiled sadly. "You espouse a very popular doctrine,
ethical pragmatism, which always turns out to be the doctrine of
self-interest. Still, I understand you where you speak of uncertainty,
for I am an uncertain man." He shook his thin, sharp-featured head.
"I know I'm in a bad way, but why should I not? I've had a peculiar
experience." He finished the whiskey, leaned forward to gaze into
Gersen's face. "You are perhaps more sensitive than first impression
would suggest. Perhaps more agile. And possibly younger than you
seem."

"I was born in 1490."

Teehalt made a sign which could mean anything, searched Ger-
sen's face once more. "Can you understand me if I say that I have
known overmuch beauty?"

"I probably could understand," said Gersen, "if you made your-
self clear."

Teehalt blinked thoughtfully. "I will try." He considered. "As
I have admitted to you, I am a locater. It is a poor trade—with
apologies to you—for eventually it involves the degradation of
beauty. Sometimes only to a small extent, which is what a person
such as myself hopes for. Sometimes there is only small beauty to
corrupt, and sometimes the beauty is incorruptible." He made a
gesture of his hand toward the ocean. "The tavern harms nothing.
The tavern allows the beauty of this terrible little planet to reveal
itself." He leaned forward, licking his lips. "The name Malagate is
known to you? Attel Malagate?"

For a second time Gersen was startled; for a second time the
reaction failed to reach his face. After another slight pause, he asked
casually, "Malagate the Woe, so-called?"

"Yes. Malagate the Woe. You are acquainted with him?" And
Lugo Teehalt peered at Gersen through eyes which had suddenly
gone leaden, as if the mere act of naming the possibility had re-
newed his suspicion,

"Only by reputation," said Gersen, with a bleak twitch of a
smile.

Teehalt leaned forward with great earnestness. "Whatever you
may have heard, I assure you, it is flattery."

"But you don't know what I have heard."

10

THE DEMON PRINCES

"I doubt if you have heard the worst. But nevertheless, and the
astounding paradox. . . ." Teehalt closed his eyes. "I am locating for
Attel Malagate. He owns my ship. I have taken his money."

"It is a difficult position."

"When I found out—what could I do?" Teehalt threw up his
hands in an excited extravagant gesture, reflecting either emotional
turmoil or the effects ofSmade's whiskey. "I have asked myself this,
over and over. I did not make this choice. I had my ship and my
money, not from an estate house, but from an institution of dignity.
I did not think of myself as a common locater. I was Lugo Teehalt,
a man of parts, who had been appointed to the post of Chief Ex-
plorer for the institution, or some such folly—so I assured myself.
But they sent me out in a 9B boat, and I could no longer delude
myself. I was Lugo Teehalt, common locater."

"Where is your boat?" asked Gersen, idly curious. "There is
only my own and the Star King's out on the landing field."

Teehalt pursed his lips in another onset of wariness. "I have
good reason for caution." Teehalt glanced right and left. "Would
it surprise you to learn that I expect to meet—" he hesitated,
thought better of what he had planned to say, and sat silently a
moment, looking into his empty glass. Gersen signaled, and young
Araminta Smade brought whiskey on a white jade tray, upon which
she herself had painted a red and blue floral border.

"But this is inconsequential," said Teehalt suddenly. "I bore

you with my problems. . .."

"Not at all," said Gersen, quite truthfully. "The affairs of Attel

Malagate interest me."

"I can understand this," said Teehalt after another pause. "He
is a peculiar combination of qualities."

"From whom did you have your boat?" Gersen asked ingenu-
ously.

Teehalt shook his head. "I will not say. For all I know you may

be Malagate's man. I hope not, for your own sake."

"Why should I be Malagate's man?"

"Circumstances suggest as much. But circumstances only. And
in fact I know that you are not. He would not send someone here
whom I have not met."

"You have a rendezvous, then."

"One I don't care to keep. But—I don't know what else to do."

"Return to the Oikumene."

THE STAR KING

II

"What does Malagate care tor that? He comes and goes as he
pleases."

"Why should he concern himself with you? Locators are twenty
to the dozen."

"I am unique," said Teehalt. "I am a locater who has found a
prize too precious to sell."

Gersen was impressed in spite of himself.

"It is a world too beautiful for degradation," said Teehalt. "An
innocent world, full of light and air and color. To give this world
to Malagate, for his palaces and whirligigs and casinos—it would
be like giving a child to a squad of Sarcoy soldiers. Worse? Possibly
worse."

"And Malagate knows of this?"

"It is my unfortunate habit to drink rashly and talk wildly."

"As you do now," suggested Gersen.

Teehalt smiled his wincing morose smile. "You could tell Mal-
agate nothing he does not already know. The damage was done at
Brinktown."

"Tell me more of this world. Is it inhabited?"

Teehalt smiled again, but made no answer. Ciersen felt no re-
sentment. Teehalt, beckoning to Araminta Smade, ordered Fraze,
a heavy sour-sweet liquor reputed to include among its constituents
a subtle hallucinizer. Gersen signified that he would drink no more.

Night had long settled over the planet. Lightning crashed back
and forth; a sudden downpour began to drum on the roof.

Teehalt, lulled by the liquor, perhaps seeing visions among the
flames, said, "You could never find this world. I am resolved that
it shall not be violated."

"W^hat of your contract?"

Teehalt made a contemptuous motion. "I would honor it for
an ordinary world."

"The information is on the monitor filament," Gersen pointed
out. "The property of your sponsor."

Teehalt was silent so long that Gersen wondered if he were
awake. Finally Teehalt said, "I am afraid to die. Otherwise I would
drop myself and boat and monitor and all into a star."

Gersen had no comment to make.

"I do not know what to do." Teehalt's voice became soft, as
the drink soothed his brain, and showed him visions. "This is a
remarkable world. Beautiful, yes. I wonder if the beauty does not

12

THE DEMON PRINCES

conceal another quality which I can't fathom . . . just as a woman's
beauty camouflages her more abstract virtues. Or vices. ... In any
event the world is beautiful and serene beyond words. There are
mountains washed by rain. Over the valleys float clouds as soft and
bright as snow. The sky is a deep dark sapphire blue. The air is
sweet and cool—so fresh that it seems a lens. There are flowers,
though not very many. They grow in little clumps, so that to find
them is like coming on a treasure. But there are many trees, and
most magnificent are the great kings, with gray bark, which seem
to have lived forever.

"You asked if the world were inhabited. I am forced to answer
yes, though the creatures who live there are—strange. I call them
dryads. I saw only a few hundred, and they seem a race ages old.
As old as the trees, as old as the mountains." Teehalt shut his eyes.
"The day is twice the length of ours; the mornings are long and
bright, the noons are quiet, the afternoons are golden—like honey.
The dryads bathe in the river or stand in the dark forest. . . ." Tee-
halt's voice dwindled; he appeared to be half asleep.

Gersen prompted him. "Dryads?"

Teehalt stirred, raised in his chair. "It's as good a name as any.
They're at least half plant. I made no real examination; I dared not.
Why? I don't know. I was there—oh, I suppose two or three weeks.
This is what I saw.. . ."

Teehalt landed the battered old 9B on a meadow beside a river. He
waited while the analyzer made environmental tests, though a land-
scape so fair could not fail to be hospitable—or so thought Teehalt,
who was scholar, poet, wastrel in equal parts. He was not wrong:

the atmosphere proved salubrious; allergen-sensitive cultures tested
negative; microorganisms of air and soil quickly died upon contact
with the standard antibiotic with which Teehalt now dosed himself.
There seemed no reason why he should not immediately go forth
upon this world, and he did so.

On the turf in front of the ship Teehalt stood entranced. The
air was clear and clean and fresh, like the air of a spring dawn, and
utterly silent, as if just after a bird call.

Teehalt wandered up the valley. Stopping to admire a grove of
trees, he saw the dryads, who stood gathered in the shade. They
were bipeds, with a peculiarly human torso and head structure,
though it was clear that they resembled man in only the most su-

THE STAR KING 13

perfcial style. Their skin was silver, brown, green, in sheens and
splotches; the head showed no features other than purplish-green
bruises, which seemed to be eye spots. From the shoulders rose
members like arms, which branched into twigs and then leaves of
dark and pale green, burnished red, bronze-orange, golden ocher.
The dryads saw Teehalt and moved forward with almost human
interest, then paused about fifty feet distant, swaying on supple
limbs, the crests of colored leaves shimmering in the sunlight. They
examined Teehalt and he examined them, in a mutual absence of
fear, and Teehalt thought them the most entrancing creatures of
his experience.

He remembered the days which followed as idyllic, utterly calm.
There was a majesty, a clarity, a transcendental quality to the
planet, which affected him with an almost religious awe, and pres-
ently he came to understand that he must leave shortly or succumb
psychically, give himself completely to the world. The knowledge
afflicted him with an almost unbearable sadness, for he knew that
he would never return,

During this time he watched the dryads as they moved through
the valley, idly curious as to their nature and habits. Were they
intelligent? Teehalt never answered that question to his own sat-
isfaction. They were wise, certainly—he made this particular dis-
tinction. Their metabolism puzzled him, and also the nature of their
life cycle, though gradually he acquired at least a glimmer of en-
lightenment. He assumed, to begin with, that they derived a certain
degree of energy from some sort of photosynthetic process.

Then one morning, as Teehalt contemplated a group of dryads
standing immobile in the marshy meadow, a large winged hawklike
creature swooped down, buffeted one of the dryads to the side. As
it toppled Teehalt glimpsed two white shafts, or prongs, extending
from the supple gray legs into the ground. The shafts at once re-
tracted when the dryad fell. The hawk creature ignored the toppled
dryad, but scratched and tore at the marsh and unearthed an enor-
mous white grub. Teehalt watched with great interest. The dryad
apparently had located the grub in its subterranean burrow and had
pierced it with a sort of proboscis, presumably for the ingestion of
sustenance. Teehalt felt a small pang of shame and disillusionment.
The dryads were evidently not quite as innocent and ethereal as he
had thought them to be.

The hawk thing lumbered up from the pit, croaked, coughed,

14

THE DEMON PRINCES

flapped away. Teehalt went curiously forward, stared down at the
mangled worm. There was little to be seen but shreds of pallid flesh,
yellow ooze and a hard black ball, the size of Teehalt's two fists.
As he stared down, the dryads came slowly fonvard and Teehalt
withdrew. From a distance he watched as they clustered about the
torn worm, and it seemed to Teehalt that they mourned the man-
gled crearure. But presently, with their supple lower limbs, they
brought up the black pod and one of them carried it away high in
its branches. Teehalt followed at a distance, watched in fascinated
wonder as, close beside a grove of slender white-branched trees, the
dryads buried the black pod.

In retrospect he wondered why he had attempted no commu-
nication with the dryads. Once or twice during the time of his stay
he had toyed with the idea, then let the thought drift away—per-
haps because he felt himself an intruder, a creature gross and un-
pleasant. The dryads in their turn treated him with what might be
courteous disinterest.

Three days after the black pod had been buried Teehalt had
occasion to return to the grove, and to his astonishment saw a pallid
shoot rising from the ground above the pod. At the tip pale green
leaves already were unfolding into the sunlight. Teehalt stood back,
examined the grove with new interest: had each of these trees
grown from a pod originated in the body of a subterranean grub?
He examined the foliage, limbs, and bark and found nothing to
suggest such an origin.

He looked across the valley, to the great dark-leaved giants:

surely the two varieties were similar? The giants were majestic,
serene, with trunks rising two or three hundred feet to the first
branching. The trees grown from the black pods were frail; their
foliage was a more tender green, the limbs were more flexible, and
branched close to the ground—but the species were clearly related.
Leaf shape and structure were almost identical, as was the general
appearance of the bark: supple, yet rough-texture d, though the bark
of the giants was darker and coarser. Teehalt's head swarmed with
speculations.

Later the same day he climbed the mountain across the valley
and, crossing the ridge, came down upon a glen with precipitous
rocky walls. A stream rushed and splashed through mossy boulders
and low fernlikc plants, falling from pool to pool. Approaching the
brink, Teehalt found himself on a level with the foliage ot the giant

THE STAR KING

15

trees, which here grew close beside the cliff. He noted dull green
sacs, like fruit, growing among the leaves. Straining, risking a fall,
Teehalt was able to pluck one of these sacs. He carried it down the
mountainside and across the meadow^ toward the boat.

He passed a group of dryads who, fixing their purple-green eye
bruises on the sac, became rigid. Teehalt observed them with puz-
zlement. Now they approached, their gorgeous fans quivering and
shimmering in agitation. Teehalt felt embarrassed and guilty; evi-
dently by plucking the sac he had offended the dryads. Why or how
he could not fathom, but he hastily sought the concealment of his
ship, where he cut the sac. The husk was pithy and dry; down the
center ran a stalk from which depended white pea-sized seeds, of
great complexity. Teehalt inspected the seeds closely under a mag-
nifier. They bore a remarkable resemblance to small underdevel-
oped beetles, or wasps. With tweezers and knife he opened one out
on a sheet of paper, noting wings, thorax, mandibles: clearly an
insect.

For a long while he sat contemplating the -insects which grew
on a tree: a curious analogue, so Teehalt reflected, to the sapling
which sprouted from a pod taken from the body of a worm.

Sunset colored the sky; the distant parts of the valley grew in-
distinct. Dusk came and evening, with the stars blurring large as
lamps.

The long night passed. At dawn when Teehalt emerged from
his boat he knew that the time of his departure was close at hand-
How? Why? He had no answer. The compulsion nevertheless was
real; he must leave, and he knew he would never return. As he
considered the mother-of-pearl sky, the curve and swell of the hills,
the groves and forests, the gentle river, his eyes went damp. The
world was too beautiful to leave; far too beautiful to remain upon.
It worked on something deep inside him, aroused a queer tumult
which he could not understand. There was a constant force from
somewhere to run from the ship, to discard his clothes, his weapons,
to merge, to envelope and become enveloped, to immolate himself
in an ecstasy of identification with beauty and grandeur . . . Today
he must go. "If I'm here any longer," thought Teehalt. "I'll be
carrying leaves over my head with the dryads."

He wandered up the valley, turning to watch the sun swell into
the sky. He climbed to the ridge of the hill, looked east over a
succession of rolling crests and valleys, rising gradually to a single

16 •HIE DEMON PRINCES

great mountain. To west and south he caught the glimmer of water;

to the north spread green parkland, with a crumble of gray boulders
like the ruins of an ancient city.

Returning into the valley, Teehalt passed below the giant trees.
Looking up, he noticed that all the pods had split, and now hung
limp and withered. Even as he watched he heard a drone of wings.
A hard heavy pellet struck his cheek, where it clung and bit.

In shock and pain Teehalt crushed the insect, or wasp. Looking
aloft he saw others—a multitude, darting and veering. Hastily he
returned to the ship and dressed in a coverall of tough film. His
face and head were protected by transparent mesh. He was unrea-
sonably angry. The wasp's attack had marred his last day in the
valley, and in fact had caused him the first pain of his stay. It was
too much to expect, he reflected bitterly, that paradise could exist
without the serpent. And he dropped a can of compressed insect
repellent into his pouch, though it might or might not be efficacious
against these half-vegetable insects.

Leaving the ship, he marched up the valley, with the insect's
bite paining him still. Approaching the forest he came upon a
strange scene: a group of dryads surrounded by a buzzing swarm
of wasps. Teehalt approached curiously. The dryads, he saw, were
under attack, but lacked any efficient means of defense. As the wasps
darted in to settle on the silver skin, the dryads flapped their
branches, rubbed against each other, scraped with their legs, dis-
lodging the insects as best they could.

Teehalt approached, filled with horrified anger. One of the dry-
ads near him seemed to weaken; several of the insects gnawed
through its skin, drawing gouts of ichor. The entire swarm suddenly
condensed upon the unfortunate dryad, which tottered and fell,
while the remaining dryads moved sedately away.

Teehalt, impelled to disgust and loathing, stepped forward,
turned the can of repellent upon the nearly solid mass of wasps. It
acted with dramatic effectiveness, the wasps turning white, with-
ering, dropping to the ground; in a single minute the entire swarm
was a scatter of small white husks. The dryad under attack also lay
dead, having been almost instantly stripped of its flesh. The dryads
who had escaped -were now returning, and, so Teehalt thought, in
a state of anguish and even fury. Their branches quivered and
flashed; they marched down upon him with every indication of an-
tagonism. Teehalt took to his heels and returned to his ship.

THE STAR KIXG

17

With binoculars he watched the dryads. They stood about their
dead comrade in a state of anxiety and irresolution. Apparently—
or at least it seemed so to Teehalt—their anguish was as much for
the withered insects as the dead dryad.

They clustered over the fallen body. Teehalt could not observe
exactly what they did, but presently they arose with a glossy black
ball. He watched them carry it across the valley toward the grove
of giant trees.

I have examined the native life forms of over two thousand
planets. I have noted many examples of convergent evolu-
tion, but many more of divergence.

. . . Life, Volume II, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey.

It is first of all essential that we understand exactly what
we mean by the well-used term "convergent evolution."
Especially we must not confuse statistical probability with
some transcendental and utterly compelling force. Consider
the class of all possible objects, the number of which is
naturally very large: infinite, indeed, unless we impose an
upper and lower limit of mass and certain other physical
qualifications. Thus imposing and so qualifying, we find
that still only an infinitesimal fraction of this class of objects
can be considered life forms. . . . Before we have even
started the investigation we have exercised a very stringent
selection of objects which by their very definition will show
basic similarities.

To particularize: There are a limited number of meth-
ods of locomotion. If we find a quadruped on Planet A, and
a quadruped likewise on Planet B, does this imply conver-
gent evolution? No. It merely implies evolution, or perhaps
no more than the fact that a four-legged creature can ef-
fectively stand without toppling and walk without stum-
bling. In my opinion, therefore, the expression "convergent
evolution" is tautological.

. ..Ibid.

THE STAR KING

From: "The Wages of Sin," by Stridenko: article in Cos-
mopoUs, May, 1404:

Brinktown: what a city! Once the jumping-off place, the
last outpost, the portal into infinity—now just another set-
tlement of the North East Middle Beyond. But "just an-
other"? Is this a fair description? Decidedly not. Brinktown
must be seen to be believed, and even then the hard of
belief depart incredulous. The houses are set far apart along
shaded avenues; still they rise like watchtowers, thrusting
up into and through the palms, virebols, scalmettos, and it
is a mean house which does not soar above the treetops.
The ground level is no more than an entry, a raised pavilion
where the clothes must be changed, for local habit ordains
the use of paper house capes and paper slippers. Then
above: what an explosion of architectural conceits, what tur-
rets and spires, belfries and cupolas! What elaborate
magnificence, what inspired scrimshaw, what intricate, in-
ventive, farcical, wonderful applications and misapplications
of likely and unlikely materials! Where else can one find
balustrades of tortoiseshell studded with gold-plated fish
heads? Where else do ivory nymphs hang suspended by
their hair from the roof gutters, their faces expressing only
bland benediction? WTiere else can a man's success be
gauged by the sumptuousness of the tombstone he designs
for himself and erects in his front yard, complete with pan-
egyrical epitaph? And in fact where but in Brinktown is
success such an ambiguous recommendation? Few indeed
of the inhabitants dare show themselves within the Oiku-
mene. The magistrates are assassins; the civil guard arson-
ists, extortioners and rapists; the elders of the council,
bordello owners. But civic affairs proceed with a punctilio
and gravity worthy of the Grand Sessions at Borugstone, or
a coronation at the Tower of London. The Brinktown jail
is one of the most ingenious ever propounded by civic au-
thorities. It must be remembered that Brinktown occupies
the surface of a volcanic butte, overlooking a trackless jun-
gle of quagmire, thorn, eel-vine skiver tussock. A single
road leads from city down to jungle; the prisoner is merely
locked out of the city. Escape is at his option; he may flee

20 THE DEMON PRINCES

as far through the jungle as he sees fit: the entire continent
is at his disposal. But no prisoner ever ventures far from
the gate; and, when his presence is required, it is only nec-
essary to unlock the gate and call his name.

Teehalt sat looking into the fire. Gersen, vastly touched, won-
dered if he intended to say more.

At last Teehalt spoke. "So I left the planet. I could stay no
longer. To live there a person must either forget himself, give way
completely to the beauty, drown his identity in it—or else he must
master it, break it, reduce it to a background for his own construc-
tions. I could do neither, so I can never go back. . . . But the mem-
ory of the place haunts me."

"In spite of the wasps?"

Teehalt nodded somberly. "Yes indeed. I did wrong to inter-
fere. There is a rhythm to the planet, an equilibrium which I blun-
dered into and disturbed. I've speculated for days, but I still don't
understand the process completely. Wasps are born as fruit of the
tree; the worms yield the seed to one kind of tree—this much I
know. I suspect that the dryads produce the seed to the great giants.
The process of life becomes a great circle, or perhaps a series of
incarnations, with the great trees as the end result.

"The dryads seem to tap the worms for part of their sustenance,
the wasps devour the dryads. Where do the worms come from? Are
the wasps their first phase? Flying larva, so to speak? Do the worms
eventually metamorphose into dryads? I feel this must be the case—
though I don't know. If so, the cycle is beautiful, in a fashion I can't
find words to describe. Something ordained, stately, ancient—like
the tides, or the rotation of the galaxy. If the pattern were disturbed,
if one link were broken, the whole process would collapse. This
would be a great crime."

"So therefore you don't want to reveal the location of the world
to your sponsor whom you believe to be Malagate the Woe."

"I know to be Malagate," said Teehalt stiffly.

"How did you find out?"

Teehalt looked at him sidewise. "You are very interested in
Malagate."

Gersen, wondering if, after all, he were so transparent,
shrugged. "One hears many strange tales."

THE STAR KING 21

"True. But I do not care to document them. And do you know
why?"

"No."

"I have changed my thoughts about you. Now I suspect you of
weaselry."

"If I were a weasel," said Gersen, smiling, "I'd hardly admit it.
The IPCC has few friends Beyond."

"I am unconcerned," said Teehalt. "But I hope for better days
if—when—I return home. I do not care to incur Malagate's ani-
mosity by identifying him to a weasel."

"If I were a weasel," said Gersen, "you have already compro-
mised yourself. You know of truth drugs and hypnotic rays."

"Yes. I also know how to avoid them. But no matter; it's not
important. You asked how I learned that Malagate was my sponsor.
I have no objection to telling you this. It was through my own
drunken prolixity. I put into Brinktown. In Sin-San's Tavern I
spoke at length, much as I spoke to you tonight, to a dozen en-
thralled listeners. Yes, I held their attention." Teehalt laughed bit-
terly. "Presently I was called to the telephone. The man at the other
end said his name was Hildemar Dasce. Do you know him?"

"No."

"Odd," said Teehalt, "since you are so interested in Attel Mal-
agate. . . . But, in any event, Dasce spoke to me, told me to report
to Smade's. He said I'd meet Malagate here."

"What?" demanded Gersen, unable to control the sharpness of
his voice. "Here?"

"Here at Smade's. I asked, what's this to me? I had no dealings
with Malagate and wished none. He convinced me otherwise. So
I'm here. I am not a brave man." He made a small helpless gesture,
picked up his empty glass, looked into it. "I don't know what to
do. If I remain Beyond. . . ." Teehalt shrugged.

Gersen considered a moment. "Destroy the monitor filament."

Teehalt shook his head regretfully. "It's the surety I carry for
my life. Indeed, I'd rather—" he stopped short. "Did you hear
anything?"

Gersen jerked around in his chair. No use denying his ner-
vousness—at least, not to himself. "Rain. Thunder."

"I thought I heard tubes blowing." Teehalt rose to his feet,
peered from the window. "Someone is coming."

Gersen also went to the window. "I see nothing."

I HI DF\10\ PRI\CFS

"A ship dropped down into the field," said Teehalt He thought
for a moment " I here are, or w ere, only two ships there \ours and
the Star King's "

"Where is your ship^"

"T set down in a valley to the north I want no one meddling
with my monitor " He seemed to listen, then, looking into Gersen's
eyes, he said, ""You are not a locator "

"No "

Teehalt nodded "Locators are, by and large, a vile lot You are
not of the IPCC="

"Think of me as an explorer "

"Will you help me?"

The harsh precepts of Gersen's training contended with his
impulses He muttered ungraciously, "Within limits—ver\ narrow
limits "

Teehalt smiled thinly "What are these limits'""

"My own business is urgent I can't allow myself to be di-
verted "

Feehalt was neither disappointed nor resentful, he could expect
no more from a stranger "Odd," he said once more, "that you do
not know Hildemar Dascc—sometimes known as Beauty Dasce
But he will come in presently "liou ask, how do I know^ Bv the
logic of plain ordinary tear "

"You'll he sate so long as you stay inside the tavern," said Ger-
sen shortly "Smade has his rules "

Teehalt nodded, politely acknowledging the discomfiture he
had caused Gersen A minute passed The Star Kmg rose to his
feet, his pink and red garment glowing in the firelight He walked
slowly up the stairs, looking neither to right nor left

I eehalt followed him with his eves "Impressive creature    I
understand that only the handsome ones are allowed to leave their
planet "

"Sol have heard"

Teehatt sat looking into the tire Gersen started to speak, then
restrained himself He felt exasperation with Teehalt, tor a clear
and simple reason Teehalt had aroused his sympathy, 1 eehalt had
entered his mind, I eehalt had burdened him with new troubles
He also relt dissatisfaction with himself—tor reasons by no means
so simple, in fact for no rational reason whatever Beyond argu-
ment, his own affairs were oi paramount importance, he could not

THE SFAR K!\G 23

permit himself to be diverted If emotion and sentiment could sway
him so easily, where would such things stop?

The dissatisfaction, far from being appeased, grew more insis-
tent There was a connection, too tenuous to be defined, with the
world Teehalt had described, a sense of loss and longing, of some
indefinable inadequacy    Gersen made a sudden angry motion,
swept all the irritating doubts and questions from his mind. They
could only decrease his effectiveness

Five minutes passed Teehalt reached into his jacket, brought
forth an envelope "Here are photographs you might be pleased to
inspect at your leisure "

Gersen took them without comment

The door slid back Three dark shapes stood in the gap, looking
into the room Smade roared from behind the bar, "Come in or
stay out' Must I warm the whole cursed planet7"

Into the hall stepped the strangest human being of Gersen's
experience "And there," said Teehalt with a sick titter, "you see
Beauty Dasce."

Dasce was about six feet tall His torso was a tube, the same
gauge from knee to shoulder His arms were thin and long, ter-
minating in great bony wrists, enormous hands His head was also
tall and round, with a ruff of red hair, and a chin seeming almost
to rest on the clavicle Dasce had stained his neck and face bright
red, excepting only his cheeks, which were balls of bright chalk-
blue, like a pair of mildewed oranges At some stage of his career
his nose had been cleft into a pair of cartilaginous prongs, and his
eyelids had been cut away, to moisten his corneas he wore two
nozzles connected to a tank of fluid which every few seconds dis-
charged a film of mist into his eyes There was also a pair of shut-
ters, now raised, which could be lowered to cover his eyes from the
light, and which were painted to represent staring white and blue
eyes similar to Dasce's own

The two men at his back by contrast appeared ordinary run-
of-the-mill human beings both dark, hard, competent-seeming,
with quick clever eyes

Dasce made a brusque signal to Smade, who stood impassively
watching from behind the bar "Three rooms, if you please We
will eat presently "

"Very well"

"The name is Hildemar Dasce "

24

THE DKMON PRINCES

"Very well, Mr. Dasce."
Dasce now sauntered across the room to where Teehalt and

Gersen sat. His glance shifted from one to the other. "Since we are
fellow travelers, houseguests of Mr. Smade, let us introduce our-
selves," he said politely. "My name is Hildemar Dasce. May 1 in-
quire yours?"

"I am Kirth Gersen."

"I am Keelen Tannas."

Dasce's lips, pale purple-gray against the red of his skin, moved
in a smile. "To an amazing degree you resemble a certain Lugo

Teehalt whom I expected to find here."

"Think of me as you like," said Teehalt in a reedy voice. "I

have spoken my name."

"But what a pity; I have business to transact with Lugo Tee-
halt!"

"It is pointless, then, to approach me."

"As you wish. Though I suspect that the business with Lugo
Teehalt might interest Keelen Tannas. Will you step aside for a

moment's private conversation?"

"No. I am not interested. My friend knows my name; it is Kee-
len Tannas."

"Your 'friend'?" Dasce turned his attention to Gersen. "Do you

know this man well?"

"As well as I know anyone."

"And his name is Keelen Tannas?"

"If this is the name he offers you, I suggest that you accept it."

Without further remark Dasce turned away. He and his men

went to a table at the end of the hall, where they ate.

Teehalt spoke in a hollow voice. "He knows me well enough."
Gersen felt a new spasm of irritation. Why should Teehalt feel

impelled to embroil a stranger in his troubles, if his identity were

already known?

Teehalt explained his act in the next breath. "Since I fight the

hook, he thinks he has me trapped, and he amuses himself."

"What of Malagate? I thought you had come here to meet

him."

"Better that I return to Alphanor and confront him there. I will

return his money, but I will not lead him to the planet."

At the end of the hall Dasce and his two companions were

THE STAR KING 25

served with platters from Smade's kitchen. Gersen watched them
for a moment. "They seem unconcerned."

Teehalt sniffed. "They think that I will deal with Malagate, but
not with them. ... I will try to escape. Dasce does not know that I
landed over the hill. Perhaps he thinks that your ship is mine."

"Who are the other two men?"

"Assassins. They know me well enough, from the tavern at
Brinktown. Tristano is an Earthman. He kills by touches of his
hand. The other is a Sarkoy venefice. He can brew stuff to kill from
sand and water. All three are madmen—but Dasce is the worst. He
knows every horror there is to be known."

At this moment Dasce looked at his watch. Wiping his mouth
with the back of his hand, he rose, crossed the room, bent over
Teehalt. In a husky whisper he said, "Attel Malagate waits you
outside. He will see you now."

Teehalt stared at him with sagging jaw. Dasce swaggered back
to his table.

Teehalt rubbed his face with quivering fingers, turned to Ger-
sen. "I can still evade them if I can lose myself in the dark. When
I run out the door, will you detain these three?"

"How do you suggest 1 do this?" asked Gersen sardonically.

Teehalt was silent a moment. "I don't know."

"Nor do I, with the best will in the world."

Teehalt gave a sad nod. "Very well, then. I will fend for myself.
Good-bye, Mr. Gersen."

He rose to his feet, walked to the bar. Dasce slanted his eyes
at him, but otherwise seemed uninterested. Beside the bar, Teehalt
stood beyond the reach of his vision, whereupon he darted into the
kitchen, out of sight. Smade looked after him with wonder, then
returned to business.

Dasce and the two assassins stolidly continued their meal.

Gersen watched covertly. Why did they sit with such uncon-
cern? Teehalt's ruse had been pitifully obvious. Gersen's skin began
to prickle; he drummed his fingers on the table. In spite of his
resolve, he rose to his feet, went to the doorway. Pushing open the
timber panels, he stepped out on the veranda.

The night was dark, lit only by stars. The wind, for a wonder,
was still; but the sea, swirling and flowing, sent up a muffled sad
sound. ... A short sharp scream, a whimper, from behind the tav-
ern. Gersen abandoned his resolve and started forward. A grip like

26

I HE DEMON PRINCES

the pinch of steel seized his arm, tweaked nerves at the back of his
elbow; another hand clamped at his neck. Gersen let himself fall,
broke the grip. Suddenly all his doubts and exasperations were
gone; he was a whole man. He rolled over, bounced to his feet,
stood m a half crouch, shuffled slowly forward. Facing him with an
easy smile stood Tnstano the Earthman.

"Careful, friend," said Tnstano in the clipped flat Earth accent.
"Give me trouble and Smade pitches you into the sea "

Dasce came out the door, followed by the Sarcoy poisoner.
Tnstano |omed them and the three walked to the spaceport. Gersen
remained on the terrace, breathing heavily, crawling internally with
his frustrated need for action.

Ten minutes later two ships rose into the night. The first was
a squat armored vessel, with weapons fore and aft. The second was
a battered old locator's ship, Model 9B.

Gersen stared in wonder. The second ship was his own.

The ships disappeared, the sky once more was empty. Gersen
returned into the tavern and sat before the fire. Presently he
brought forth the envelope given him by Lugo Teehalt, opened it,
and extracted three photographs, which he examined for the better
part of an hour.

The fire burnt low, Smade took himself off to bed, leaving a
son dozing behind the bar. Outside, the night rams began to thrash
down, lightning crackled, the ocean groaned.

Gersen sat m deep thought. Presently from his pocket he
brought a sheet of paper, which listed five names:

Attel Malagate (the Woe)

Howard Alan Treesong

Viole Falushe

Kokor Hekkus (the Killing Machine)

Lens Larque

From his pocket he brought a pencil, but still he deliberated. If he
continually added names to his list he would never finish. Of course
there was no real need to write; there was no real need for a list.
Gersen knew the five names as well as he knew his own He com-
promised. To the right and below the last name of the original list
he appended a sixth: Hildemar Dasce. For a space he sat looking
at the names, with two sides to his mind- the one so alive and

THE STAR KING -*/'

passionate that the other, the cerebral detached observer, felt a trace
of amusement.

The flames settled low; chunks of fossilized moss glowed scar-
let; the sea sound was slower and lower m pitch. Gersen rose to his
feet, climbed the stone stairs to his room.

During his life Gersen had known little other than a succession
of strange beds; nevertheless sleep came slowly and he lay staring
into the dark. Visions passed before him, from as early as he could
remember. First there was a landscape which, as he recalled it, was
wonderfully pleasant and bright. There were tawnv mountains, a
village painted in faded pastel colors along the banks of a wide
tawny river.

But this picture, as always, was followed by another even more
vivid: the same landscape littered with hacked and bleeding bodies
Men and women and children shuffled into the holds of five long
ships under the weapons of two score men in strange grim cos-
tumes. With an old man who was his grandfather, Kirth Gersen
watched, horrified, from across the river, concealed from the slavers
by the bulk of an old barge. When the ships had lifted, they re-
turned across the river to the silence of death. Then his grandfather
told him, "Many fine things your father had planned for you. learn-
ing and useful work and a life of satisfaction and peace. Do you
recall this3"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"The learning you shall have. You will learn patience and re-
source, the ability of your hands and your mind. You will have
useful work: the destruction of evil men. WTiat work could be more
usefuP This is Beyond, you will find that your work is never done—
so therefore you may never know a life of peace. However, I guar-
antee you ample satisfaction, for I will teach you to crave the blood
of these men more than the flesh of woman."

The old man had been as good as his word. Eventually they
made their way to Earth, the ultimate repository of every sort of
knowledge.

Young Kirth learned many things, from a succession of strange
teachers which it would be tedious to detail. He killed his first man
at the age of fourteen, a footpad who had the ill-luck to accost them
in a back alley of Rotterdam. WTiile his grandfather stood by, in
the manner of an old fox teaching a cub to hunt, young Kirth,

28

THE. DEMON PRINCES

gasping and sobbing, broke first the ankle, then the neck of the
astonished assailant.

From Earth they moved to Alphanor, capitol planet of the Rigel
Concourse, and here Kirth Gersen gained more conventional
knowledge. When he was nineteen his grandfather died, bequeath-
ing him a comfortable sum of money and a letter which read:

My dear Kirth:

I have seldom told of my affection and high regard for
you; I take this occasion to do so. You have come to mean
more to me than ever did my own son. I will not say I am
sorry that I have set your feet in the path they now must
take, even though you will be denied many ordinary pleas-
ures and luxuries. Have I been presumptuous in so shaping
your life? I think not. For several years you have been self-
motivated, and have showed no inclination to point yourself
in any other direction. In any event, 1 can think of no more
useful service for a man to perform than that which I have
ordained for you. The Law of Man is bounded by the limits
of the Oikumene. Good and evil, however, are ideas which
encompass the universe; unluckily, beyond the Pale there
are few to ensure the triumph of good over evil.

Actually the triumph consists of two processes: first evil
must be extinguished, then good must be introduced to fill
the gap. It is impossible that a man should be equally effi-
cacious in both functions. Good and evil, in spite of a tra-
ditional fallacy, are not polarities, nor mirror images, nor is
one merely the absence of the other. In order to minimize
confusion, your work will be the destruction of evil men.

What is an evil man? The man is evil who coerces obe-
dience to his private ends, destroys beauty, produces pain,
extinguishes life. It must be remembered that killing evil
men is not equivalent to expunging evil, which is a rela-
tionship between a situation and an individual. A poisonous
spore will grow only in a nutrient soil. In this case the nu-
trient soil is Beyond, and since no human effort can alter
the Beyond (which must always exist), you must devote your
efforts to destroying the poisonous spores, which are evil
men. It is a task of which you will never see the end.

Our sharpest and first motivation in this matter, agreed,

THE STAR KING

is no more than a primitive ache for revenge. Five pirate
captains destroyed certain lives and enslaved others who
were precious to us. Revenge is not an ignoble motive,
when it works to a productive end. The names of these five
pirate captains I do not know. My best attempts have
brought me no information. One man, an underling, I rec-
ognized: his name is Parsifal Pankarow, and he is no less
baneful than the five captains, though his potentialities for
harm are less. You must seek him Beyond and learn from
him the names of the five.

Then you must kill the five, and it will do no harm if
they suffer pain in the process, for they have brought an
immeasurable amount of pain and grief to others.

There is still much for you to learn. I would advise you
to join the Institute, except I fear that the disciplines of this
body would not set well with you. Do as you think best. In
my youth I thought to become a catechumen, but Destiny
ruled otherwise. If I were friends with a Fellow I would
send you to him for counsel—but I have no such friend.
Perhaps you will be less constricted outside the Institute.
Stringent conditions are imposed upon the catechumen
through the first fourteen degrees.

In any event, I advise you to devote a time to the study
of Sarkoy poisons and hand techniques, preferably on Sar-
kovy itself. There is room for improvement in your marks-
manship and knifeplay, though you need fear few men at
hand fighting. Your intuitive judgments are exact, your self-
control, economy of action, and versatility are to be com-
mended. But you still have much to learn. For the next ten
years, study, train—and be cautious. There are many other
capable men; do not rashly waste yourself against any such
until you are more than ready. In short, do not make an
overvirtue of courage or heroism. A goodly amount of cau-
tion—call it fear or even cowardice—is a highly desirable
adjunct for a man such as yourself, whose one fault might
be said to be a mystical, almost superstitious, faith in the
success of your destiny. Do not be fooled: we are all mortal,
as I now attest.

So, my grandson, I am dead. I have trained you to know
good from evil. I feel only pride in my accomplishment,

HI DFMON PRINOS

and hope that you will remember me with affection and
respect

Your loving grandfather,
Rolf Marr Gersen

For eleven years Kirth Gersen obeyed the dictates of his grandfa-
ther, or exceeded them, meanwhile seeking both \uthm the Oiku-
mene and Beyond for Parsifal Pankarow, but fruitlessly

Few occupations offered more challenge, more hazard, more
chilling rebuffs to incompetence than weaselmg for the IPCC Ger-
sen undertook two assignments, on Pharode and Blue Planet Dur-
ing the term of this latter, he submitted a preemptive requisition
for information regarding Parsifal Pankarow, and felt himself well
rewarded to learn that Parsifal Pankarow currently resided at Brink-
town, where he was Ita Bugloss, operator of a prosperous import
business

Gersen found Ira Bugloss, or Pankarow, to be a burly, hearty
man, egg-bald, his skin dyed lemon-yellow, his mustachios wide,
black and luxuriant

Bnnktown occupied a plateau which stood like an island in a
black-and-orange )ungle Gersen scrutinized Pankarow's move-
ments for two weeks, and learned his routine, which was that of a
man without a care Then one evening he hired a cab, rendered the
operator unconscious, and waited outside the Jodisei Conversation
and Flower Arranging Club until Pankarow tired of sporting with
the inmates and emerged into the humid Bnnktown night Well
pleased with himself, humming a tune he had only )ust learned, he
staggered into the cab and was conveyed, not to his sumptuous
home, but to a remote clearing in the )ungle Here Gersen put
questions which Pankarow had no wish to answer

Pankarow made an effort to hold his tongue, to no avail Finally
five names were wrung from his memory "Now what will you do
with me7" croaked the erstwhile Ira Bugloss

"I will kill you," said Gersen, pale and quivering after exercise
he did not en)oy "I have made you my enemy, furthermore, you
deserve to die a hundred times over."

"At one time, ves," cried the sweating Pankarow "Now I lead
a blameless life, I m)ure no one'"

Gersen wondered it every such occasion would cause him such
nausea, misgivings and misery He responded in a voice held crisp

THE STAR KI\'G 31

and even by enormous effort "What you say perhaps is true, but
your wealth stinks of pain And certainly you will make a report to
the first agent of any of the five you meet "

"No. I swear not And my wealth—take it all."

"Where is your wealth7"

Pankarow tried to make conditions. "I will lead you to it "

Gersen shook his head sadly "Accept my excuses You are
about to die It comes to all men, you had best feel that you are
requiting the evil you have done—"

"Under my tombstone'" screamed Pankarow "Under the stone
tombstone before my house'"

Gersen touched a tube to Pankarow's neck, which spat a Sarkoy
poison into the skin "I will go to look," he said "You will sleep
until you see me again " Gersen spoke no more than the truth
Pankarow relaxed thankfully and was dead in seconds.

Gersen returned to Bnnktown, a deceptively placid settlement
of tall ornate three-, four-, and five-story houses embowered among
green, purple and black trees At twilight he sauntered along a quiet
back lane to Pankarow's house The stone tombstone stood plain
to see. a massive monument of marble spheres and cubes sur-
mounted by a sculptured image of Parsifal Pankarow in a noble
pose, head thrown back to the sky, arms outspread As Gersen stood
appraising it a boy thirteen or fourteen years old stepped down from
the porch and approached Gersen.

"Are you from my father3 Is he with the fat women?"

Gersen steeled his heart to the inevitable pangs, and put aside
all thought of confiscating Pankarow's wealth "I bring a message
from your father "

"Will you come m3" inquired the boy, tremulously anxious.
"I'll call my mother "

"No Please don't I have no time Listen carefully Your father
has been called away He is not sure when he can return Perhaps
never "

The boy listened round-eyed "Did he—run away3"

Gersen nodded "Yes Some old enemies found him, and he
does not dare show himself He said to tell you or your mother that
money is hidden under the tombstone."

The boy stared at Gersen "Who are you3"

"A messenger, no more Tell your mother exactly what I have
told you One more thing when you look beneath the tombstone,

32 I HF DF MON PRINCFS

be careful. There may he a trap to guard the money Do you un-
derstand what I'm saying^"

"Yes A booby trap "

"That's right Be careful Get the help of someone you can
trust "

Gersen departed Bnnktown He thought of Smade's Planet,
with its elemental quiet and isolation, precisely the antidote to his
fretful conscience Where, he asked himself, as the locater boat
skidded down a fracture in the continuum, did the balance lie3 He
had by no means reached the tipping point Parsifal Pankarow de-
served the callous execution he had received But what of wife and
son7 They must bear the pain, but why7 To protect the women
and children of more deserving men from worse   so Gersen re-
assured himself But the haunted dark look of the boy's eyes would
not leave his memory

Destiny led him The first at Smade's Tavern engaged him with
Malagate the Woe, the first name Parsifal Pankarow had blurted
forth In his bed Gersen heaved a deep sigh Pankarow was dead,
poor miserable Lugo Teehalt was probably dead All men must die,
let there be an end to brooding He grinned into the dark, thinking
of Malagate and Beauty Dasce examining the monitor of his ship
To begin with they would be unable to open the monitor with their
key—a formidable difficult}, even worse if they suspected thief-
proofing of explosive, poison gas or acid When after great travail
they eventually extracted the filament, it would show blank Ger-
sen's monitor was no more than window dressing, he had never
bothered to activate it

Malagate would look questiomngly at Beauty Dasce, who would
mutter some sort of objurgation Perhaps then they would think to
check the serial number of the ship, only to find that it was different
from that issued to Lugo Teehalt And then swiftly back to Smade's
Planet But Gersen would be gone

3

Question (put to Eale Maurmath, Chief Quaestor of
Tn-Planetary Police System, during a roundtable tele-
vision discussion broadcast from Conover, Cuthbert,
Vega. May 16, 993)

I know your problems are tremendous, Quaestor
Maurmath, in fact I don't really comprehend how you get
on top of them. For instance, how can you possibly locate
some one particular man, or trace his background, among
ninety-odd inhabited planets and billions of people, of all
varieties of political complexion, local habit, doctrines of
belief?

Answer;

Usually we can't.

Message of Lord Jaiko Jaikoska, Chairman of the Ex-
ecutive Board, to the Valhalla General Legislative As-
sembly, Valhalla, Tau Gemini, August 9, 1028

I urge you not to endorse this sinister measure.
Humanity many times has had sad experience ofsuperpow-
erful police forces .. As soon as (the police) slip out from
under the firm thumb of a suspicious local tribune, they
become arbitrary, merciless, a law unto themselves They
think no more of justice, but only of establishing themselves
as a privileged and envied elite. They mistake the attitude
of natural caution and uncertainty of the civilian population
as admiration and respect, and presently they start to swag-
ger back and forth, |inglmg their weapons in megalomaniac
euphoria. People thereupon become not masters, but ser-

TIIF. DKMON PRINCF.S

vants. Such a police force becomes merely an aggregate of
uniformed criminals, the more baneful in that their position
is unchallenged and sanctioned by law. The police mentality
cannot regard a human being in terms other than as an item
or object to be processed as expeditiously as possible. Public
convenience or dignity means nothing; police prerogatives
assume the status of divine law. Submissiveness is de-
manded. If a police officer kills a civilian, it is a regrettable
circumstance: the officer was possibly overzealous. If a ci-
vilian kills a police officer all hell breaks loose. The police
foam at the mouth. All other business comes to a standstill
until the perpetrator of this most dastardly act is found out.
Inevitably, when apprehended, he is beaten or otherwise
tortured for his intolerable presumption. The police com-
plain that they cannot function efficiently, that criminals
escape them. Better a hundred unchecked criminals than
the despotism of one unbridled police force. Again I warn
you, do not endorse this measure. If you do, I shall surely
veto it.

Excerpt from address of Richard Parnell, Commis-
sioner of Public Weal, Northern Territory, Xion, Rigel
Concourse, to the Association of Police Officers, Civil
Guards and Crime Detection Agencies, at Parilia, Pil-
gham, Rigel, December 1, 1075;

... It is not enough to say that our problems are
unique; they have become catastrophic. We are held
responsible for the efficient conduct of our jobs, but are
refused the necessary tools and powers to do man can mur-
der and rob anywhere within the Oikumene, jump into a
waiting spaceship and he light years away before his crime
is discovered. If he passes beyond the Pale, our jurisdiction
ends—at least officially, although all of us know of coura-
geous officers who have put justice ahead of expediency and
caution and have gone beyond the Pale to make their ar-
rests. This of course they have a right to do, since every
human law becomes invalid Bcvond, but the risk is their

own.

More often the criminal who goes Beyond escapes scot
free. When he chooses to return into the Oikumene he may

THE STAR KING

have changed his appearance, his LOSI coordinates, and his
fingerprints, and is safe unless he has the misfortune to be
arrested for a new^ infraction in the community where he
committed his original crime and was there genified.*

Essentially, in this day of the Jarnell Intersplit, any
criminal who takes a few elementary precautions can go
unpunished.

This association many times has sought to establish a
more satisfactory basis for crime detection and prevention.
Our main problem is the diversity of local police organi-
zations, with their totally disparate standards, goals, and
range of problems, and the consequent chaos of information
files and retrieval systems. An obvious solution exists, and
the association's standing recommendation is the formation
of a single official police system to maintain law and order
throughout the Oikumene,

The advantages of such a system are obvious: standard-
ization of procedure, use of new equipment and ideas, uni-
fied control, a central office for the filing, indexing, and
cross-indexing of information, and, perhaps of highest im-
portance, the creation and maintenance of an esprit, a pride
of profession, to attract and hold men and women of the
highest abilities.

As we all know, this centralized agency has been denied
us, no matter how urgently we plead its virtues. The osten-
sible motive behind this refusal is known to us all, and I
will not dignify it by mentioning it. I will say that police
morale is sinking to an ever lower level and soon may van-
ish—unless something is done.

Today I wish to put before the convention a proposal for
the "something.1' Our association is the private organization
of a group of private individuals. It has no official status or
connection with any governmental office whatever. In short,
we are free to do what we please, enter into any kind of busi-
ness we please, so long as we contravene no laws.

I propose that this association go into business, that we
found a private crime-detection agency. The new company
will be strictly a commercial proposition, financed by as-

*The noun is gene-classification, thence to adjective gene-classified, abbreviated to seinfied.

THE DF.MON PRINCES

sociation money and by private subscription. Headquarters
will be established at some central and convenient location,
but there will be branches on every planet. Our staff will
l)e recruited from among members of this association and
any other qualified persons. They will be well paid, from
fees and profits. Where will these fees and profits derive?
Primarily from local police organizations, who will use cer-
tain of the facilities of this new interplanetary agency, in-
stead of expending large sums to maintain redundant
facilities of the same sort. Since the proposed agency will
be a private business organization subject to all local and
interplanetary laws, the critics of our former schemes must
be silenced.

.. . Eventually the Intel-world Police Coordination
Company would automatically be called upon to handle all
problems of crime detection and prevention other than
those that are purely local, and even here the IPCC may
function usefully. In due course the IPCC will certainly
dwarf in scope all present and future official police groups.
We will have our own laboratories, research programs, ab-
solutely complete files, and an absolutely high-class staff—
recruited, as I say, from members of the association, and
others. Are there any questions?

Question from the floor: Is there any reason why police
officers of a municipality or a state should not simultane-
ously be members of the IPCC staff?

Ansu'er: This is a very important point. No, there is no
reason. I see no conflict between the two agencies, and
there is even' reason to hope that local police officials will
automatically wish to become affiliated with the IPCC.
This would be to the advantage of the IPCC, the local po-
lice group, and the individual himself. In other words, the
local police officer would have nothing to lose and every-
thing to gain by referring cases to the IPCC and author-
izing the subsequent fee if he himself were a staff member.

From Chapter III, The IPCC: Men and Methods, by
Raoul Past:

. . . Nominally an intra-Oikumene organ, the IPCC has
been forced by the dynamics of its basic rationale to operate

THE STAR KING

37

Beyond. Here, where the only laws are local ordinances and
taboos, the IPCC finds little cooperation: indeed, the very
opposite. The IPCC operative is known as a weasel; his life
is constantly balanced on a knife edge. The Central Agency
shrouds in secrecy the exact number of "weasels," and also
the percentage of casualties. The first figure is suspected to
be low, through difficulties of recruitment; the second high,
through both the exigencies of the work and the efforts of
that most fantastic of human constructions, the Deweasel-
mg Corps.

. .. The universe is infinite; worlds without end exist;

but certainly one must travel far to find a situation so par-
adoxical, whimsical, and grim as this: that the single disci-
plined organization of the Beyond exists only to extirpate
the nominal forces of law and order.

Gersen awoke in the strange bed, the sky through the small square
window only vaguely gray. He dressed and xlescended the stone
steps to the hall, where he found one of Smade's sons, a dour dark
lad of twelve, fanning the coals in the fireplace to life. He bade
Gersen a gruff "Good morning," but seemed indisposed for further
conversation. Gersen stepped outside to the terrace. Predawn mist
concealed the ocean, rolling in sheets and curls across the heath—a
dreary, monochromatic scene. The sense of isolation was suddenly
oppressive. Gersen returned inside, went to warm himself at the
new fire.

The boy was sweeping the hearth. "Killing last night," he told
Gersen in gloomy satisfaction. "Little thin man got it- Right behind
the moss shed."
''   "Is the body there?" Gersen asked.

"No. No body. They took it with them. Three bad ones, maybe
four. Father is black mad; they did their dirt inside the fence."

Gersen grunted, displeased with every aspect of the situation.
He asked for breakfast, which was presently forthcoming. As he ate,
the dwarf sun lifted above the mountains, a brittle white wafer
barely visible through the mist. An onshore wind came up, the mist
dissipated; and when Gersen once more went outside the sky was
clear, though fog wisps still blew in from the oily sea.

Gersen walked north along the shelf between ocean cliffs and

38

THE. DEMON PRINCES

mountains. Underfoot was a carpet of spongy gray moss, redolent
with a musty resinous odor. The sunlight streamed over his head,
out to sea, the black water giving back no glint or reflection. Pie
went to the edge of the cliff, looked down two hundred feet to the
rise and fall of the water. He tossed a stone, watched the splash,
the ripples quickly absorbed in the larger motion. What would it
be like, he wondered, to sail a boat on this ocean? Out across the
horizons, with the whole world to explore: barren coasts, bleak
headlands, tall stern islands, with no sight of human being or dwell-
ing until the return to Smade's Tavern. Gersen turned away from
the cliff, continued North. Fie passed the mouth of a valley fenced
in against Smade's cattle. Teehalt certainly had not left his boat
here. A quarter mile ahead a spur of the mountains humped down
almost to the sea. In the shadow of the ridge Gersen found Tee-
halt's boat.

He made a quick inspection. The vessel was indeed a Model

9B, identical to his own. The gear and machinery seemed in good
order. In a housing under the bow bulge hung the monitor which

had cost Teehalt his life.

Gersen returned to the tavern. His original plan, to spend sev-
eral days, must be altered; Malagate might discover his mistake and
return with Hildemar Dasce and the two assassins. They would
wish to take Teehalt's monitor, and this Gersen was resolved they
should not do, though he did not care to risk his life in the effort

to keep it.

Returning to the tavern, he noted that the landing field was
empty. The Star King had departed. This morning? Or during the
night? Gersen had no idea. He settled his score and, moved by some
obscure impulse, paid Lugo Teehalt's bill. Smade made no com-
ment. He was clearly consumed by cold fury. His eyes showed white
around the drab irises, his nostrils were distended, his chin jutted
forward. The rage was not on Lugo Teehalt's behalf, Gersen re-
alized; the murderer, whoever he might be—Dasce had mentioned
Attel Malagate—had flouted Smade's law; he had disturbed the se-
renity of Smade's Tavern; he had wronged Smade. Gersen felt a
twinge of sad amusement, which he took pains to conceal. Politely
he inquired, "When did the Star King leave?" Smade merely glared
silently back at him like an angry Black Angus bull.

Gersen gathered his small packet of belongings and departed
the tavern, declining the twelve-year-old boy's proffer of assistance.

THE STAR KING

39

Once more he walked north across the gray heath. Crossing the
ridge, he looked back toward the tavern. Staunch and secure it
stood, facing the black, wind-whipped sea—utterly alone. Gersen
shook his head dubiously and turned away. "Everyone is the same,"
he told himself. "Anxious to arrive and, when they leave, wondering
why they came."

A few minutes later he took Teehalt's boat aloft on its boosters,
then pointed it back toward the Oikumene and cut in the oversplit-
Smade's Planet dwindled astern and, with its white dwarf sun, pres-
ently became lost, a single spark among a million. Stars slid by like
fireflies blown on a dark wind, the light reaching Gersen by back-
splash or backcurl, wherein the Doppler effect played no role. Per-
spective was lost; the eye was fooled; stars moved astern, the near
slipping across the far. Within hand reach? A hundred yards dis-
tant? Ten miles? The eye had no tool by which to judge.

Gersen set the star finder to the index of Rigel, engaged the
autopilot, made himself as comfortable as the spartan facilities of
the Model 9B permitted.

The visit to Smade's Tavern had served him well, though the
occasion had been bought by Lugo Teehalt's death. Malagate
wanted Lugo Teehalt's monitor; this was the premise which con-
trolled the shape of the future. Malagate would be willing to enter
negotiations, and, with equal certainty, he would act through an
agent. Although, thought Gersen, he had seen fit to kill Lugo Tee-
halt at first hand.. . . There was something puzzling here. Why
need Lugo Teehalt die? Sheer malice on the part of Malagate? Not
impossible. But Malagate had killed and ravaged so extensively that
taking the life of one thin miserable man could provide him only
paltry gratification.

More likely the motive was habit, sheer offhanded casual habit,
To sever relations with a man who might be inconvenient, you
killed him. ... A third possibility: Had Teehalt penetrated the an-
onymity which Malagate, among all the Demon Princes, held of
supreme importance? Gersen reviewed his conversation with Tee-
halt. For all his ravaged and woebegone appearance, Teehalt had
used educated intonations. He had seen better days. Why had he
turned to the disreputable profession of locating? The question, of
course, had no real answer. Why did a man set himself in any
specific direction? Why and how did a man, presumably born of
ordinary parents, become Attel Malagate the Woe?

40

THE DEMON PRINCES

Teehalt had hinted or implied that Malagate was somehow in-
volved in the leasing of the locater ship. With this thought in mind,
Gersen made a careful inspection of the ship. He tound the tradi-
tional brass plate naming the place of manufacture; Liverstone on
Fiame, a planet of the Rigel Concourse. The monitor likewise car-
ried a bronze flake detailing its serial number and the manufacturer:

the Feritse Precision Instruments Company, at Sansontiana on
Olliphane, also of the Concourse. But there was no indication of
the owner, no evidence of registration.

It would be necessary, then, to trace ownership of the boat
indirectly. Gersen set himself to consider the problem. Estate
houses maintained two-thirds of all locater ships, their stock in
trade consisting of worlds with specific attributes: planets highly
mineralized, planets suitable for colonization by dissident groups,
planets pleasant enough to serve as a millionaire's reserve, planets
distinguished by a sufficiently interesting flora and fauna to attract
curio dealers or biologists; most rarely, planets supporting intelli-
gent or semi-intelligent life, of interest to sociologists, cultural tax-
onomists, linguists, and the like.

The estate houses were concentrated in the cosmopolitan cen-
ters of the Oikumene: three or four worlds of the Concourse, chief
among them Alphanor; Vega's Cuthbert, Boniface, Aloysius; Noval;

Pi Cassiopeta's Copus and Orpo; Quantique; old Earth. The Con-
course would be the logical starting place, if in fact Lugo Teehalt
worked for an estate house. But this was by no means certain; in
fact, as Gersen seemed to recall, Teehalt had implied otherwise. If
so, the investigation was narrowed considerably. Next to the estate
houses, universities and research institutes were the chief employers
of locaters. And Gersen had a new thought. If Teehalt had been
either a student or a faculty member at some specific lyceum, col-
lege or university, he would probably apply to this same institution
for employment.

Gersen corrected his thinking: the conjecture was not neces-
sarily probable. A proud man, with friends and associates who might
remember him, would use his old school in this fashion only as a
last resort. Was Lugo Teehalt proud? Not in this way, or so it
seemed to Gersen. Teehalt had seemed a man who might easily
turn to his old haven for security.

There was another obvious source of information: the Feritse
Precision Instrument Company at Sansontiana, where the monitor

THE STAR KING 41

would be registered in the name of its purchaser. And another rea-
son for visiting the Feritse Precision Instrument Company: Gersen
wanted to open the monitor and remove the filament. To this end
he needed a key. Monitors were often tamperproofed with explosive
capsules or corrosives; violent extraction of the filament seldom
yielded useful information.

The officials of the Feritse Company might or might not prove
accommodating, Sansontiana was a city of Braichis, one of Olli-
phane's nineteen independent nations, the Braichish were a head-
strong, involute, altogether peculiar people. Concourse law,
however, repudiated private claims beyond the Pale, and discour-
aged the use of explosive traps. Hence, in an ordinance detailing
the equipment required aboard spacecraft: "The manufacturers of
such devices (referring to monitors) are thereupon enjoined and
required to furnish keys, switching devices, code sticks, number se-
quences or any other tool, appliance or information necessary to
the safe opening of the instrument in question, without delay, com-
plaint, error, exorbitant charge, or any behavior or act calculated
to deter the petitioner from obtaining the key, coded device or
information demanded, if and when the petitioner is able to dem-
onstrate ownership of said instrument. Presentation of the serial
plate originally or thereafter affixed by the manufacturer to the
instrument shall be deemed sufficient and adequate evidence of
ownership."

All well and good. Gersen could secure the key, but the com-
pany need not furnish information as to previous registration of the
instrument. Especially if Artel Malagate should suspect that Gersen
might come to Sansontiana with such a purpose in mind, and take
steps to preclude the contingency.

The thought opened a set of new vistas. Gersen frowned. Had
his temperament been other than careful and orderly, these various
options and possibilities might not occur to him. He would be saved
a great deal of difficulty, but he probably would die sooner.. . . He
shook his head in resignation, reached for the star charts.

Not far off his line of fission was the star Cygnus T342, and
its planet Euville where an unpleasant and psychotic population
lived in five cities: Oni, Me, Che, Dun and Ve, each compulsively
built in pentagonal patterns, from a central five-sided citadel. The
spaceport, on a remote island, was opprobriously named "Orifice."
Everything Gersen needed could be found at the spaceport; he had

42

-I'lIE DEMON PRINCES

no desire to visit the cities, especially since each required, in lieu
of passport, the tattooing of a star on the forehead, a different color
for each citv. To visit all five cities the prospective tourist must
display rive stars; orange, black, mauve, yellow and green.

4

From New Discoveries in Space, by Ralph Quarry:

... Sir Julian Hove apparently derived his attitudes
from the late Renaissance explorers. Upon return to Earth,
members of his crews imposed upon themselves (or had
imposed) a strict rule of discretion and secrecy. Details nev-
ertheless leaked out. Sir Julian Hove was, to use the most
comprehensive term, a martinet. He was likewise a man
utterly without humor. His eye was bleak, he spoke without
moving his lips; his hair was combed day after day in pho-
tographically identical furrows. While he did not actually
require that the personnel wear dinner jackets to meals,
certain of his rules imposed an almost equivalent punctilio.
. .. The use of rirst names was eschewed; salutes were ex-
changed at the beginning and termination of each watch,
even though the personnel was by and large civilian. Tech-
nicians whose specialties were without scientific pertinence
were forbidden to set foot on the fascinating new worlds:

an order which came close to fomenting mutiny, until Sir
Julian's second in command, Howard Coke, prevailed upon
Sir Julian to ameliorate this regulation.

The Rigel Concourse is Sir Julian's most noteworthy
discovery: twenty-six magnificent planets, most of them not
only habitable but salubrious, though only two display even
quasi-intelligent autochthones. . . . Sir Julian, exercising his
prerogatives, named the planets for boyhood heroes: Lord
Kitchener, William Gladstone, Archbishop Rollo Gore, Edythe

THE DEMON PRINCES

MacDevott, Rudyard Kipling, Thomas Carlyle, William Kirk-
cudbright^ Samuel B. Gorsham, Sir Robert Peel, and the like.

But Sir Julian was to be deprived of his privilege. He
telegraphed ahead the news of his return to Maudley Space
Station, together with a description of the Concourse and
the names he had bestowed upon the members of this mag-
nificent group. The list passed through the hands of an
obscure young clerk, one Roger Pilgham, who rejected Sir
Julian's nominations in disgust. To each of the twenty-six
planets he assigned a letter of the alphabet and hurriedly
supplied new names: Alphanor, Barleycorn, Chrysanthe,
Diogenes, Elfland, Flame, Goshen, Hardacres, Image, Jez-
ebel, Krokinole, Lyonnesse, Madagascar, Nowhere, Olli-
phane, Pilgham, Quinine, Raratonga, Somewhere, Tan-
tamount, Unicorn, Valisande, Walpurgis, Xion, Ys and
Zacaranda—the names derived from legend, myth, ro-
mance, his own whimsey. One of the worlds was accom-
panied by a satellite, described in the dispatch as "an
eccentric, tumbling, odd-shaped fragment of chondritic
pumice," and this Roger Pilgham named "Sir Julian."

The press received and published the list and Rigel's
planets became so known, though Sir Julian's acquaintances
wondered about the sudden extravagance of his imagina-
tion. And who, or what, was "Pilgham"? Sir Julian presum-
ably would explain upon his arrival.

The clerk, Roger Pilgham, presently returns to the ob-
scurity from which he sprang, and there is no record of his
conduct or state of mind as Sir Julian's return became im-
minent. Did he feel apprehension? Uneasiness? Indiffer-
ence? Beyond all doubt he had become resigned to the
prospect of discharge from his position.

In due course Sir Julian made a triumphant return, and
in due course used the phrase, "most impressive perhaps
are the New Grampian Mountains on the North Continent
of Lord Bulwer-Lytton." A member of the audience po-
litely asked the whereabouts of Lord Bulwer-Lytton, and
the substitution was revealed.

Sir Julian's reaction to the deed was one of extraordi-
nary fury. The clerk prudently went into seclusion; SirJul-

THE STAR KING

ian was encouraged to reintroduce his own nominations,
but the damage had been done; Roger Pilgham's brash deed
caught the fancy of the public, and Sir Julian's Cfrmmology
gradually faded from memory.

From Popular Handbook of the Planets, 303rd Edition,
published 1292:

Alphanor, a planet considered the administrative node
and cultural center of the Rigel Concourse. It is eighth in
orbital order.

Planetary Constants:

Diameter        9300 miles
Mass            102

Mean Day       29 hours, 16 minutes, 29.4 seconds
etc.

General Remarks: Alphanor is a large bright sea world
with a generally bracing climate. Ocean occupies three-
quarters of the total surface, including the polar ice floes.
The land mass is divided into seven nearly contiguous con-
tinents: Phrygia, Umbria, Lusitania, Scythia, Etruria, Lydia
and Lycia, in a configuration suggesting seven petals of a
Bower. There are uncounted islands.

Autochthonous life is complex and vigorous. The flora
has in no way yielded to terrestrial imports, which must be
carefully tended and nurtured. The fauna is likewise com-
plex, and on occasion actively savage; to cite the clever hyr-
can major of upper Phrygia, and the invisible eel of the
Thaumaturge Ocean.

The political structure of Alphanor is a pyramidal de-
mocracy—simple in theory, intricate in practice. The con-
tinents are divided into provinces, thence prefectures,
districts and wards: these latter defined as population blocs
of five thousand persons. Each ward committee sends a rep-
resentative to the district council, which elects a delegate
to the prefectural diet, which sends a member to the pro-
vincial congress, which does likewise for the continental
parliament. Each parliament elects seven rectors to the

THE DEMON PRINCES

46

Grand Council at Avente, in the Sea Province of Umbria,
which thereupon chooses a chairman.

From Preface to Peoples of the Concourse, by Strick and
Chernitz:

The Concourse populations are far from homogeneous.
During the migrations from Earth racial groups tended to
follow their own, and in the new environments, under the
influence of interbreeding and new behavior patterns, such
groups specialized even further. . .. The folk of Alphanor
eneral are fair, brown-haired, of medium stature,

in

0 -

though an hour's walk along the Grand Esplanade at Avente
will show the observer every conceivable style of human

being.

The Alphanor psychology is more difficult to express.

Every inhabited world is different in this regard; and
though the differences are real and distinct enough, it is
hard to present them accurately without discursiveness—
especially since each planetwide generalization is com-
pounded, vitiated, or contradicted by regional differences.

Rigel, dead ahead, was a bright blue-white point from which every
other star seemed to flee. Gersen had little to do but contemplate
his destination, fight restlessness and tension, speculate regarding
Attel Malagate's probable intentions, and formulate his own set of
responses. The first problem; Where to land? One hundred and
eighty-three spaceports on twenty-two of the twenty-six worlds
were convenient to his lawful use, as well as unlimited desert and
wasteland, should he choose to risk arrest for violation of the quar-
antine laws.

How intensely did Malagate want Teehalt's monitor? Would
he arrange a watch at every spaceport? Theoretically, this could be
done, by the suborning of port officials. The cheapest and perhaps
most effective system would be to offer a resounding reward to the
man who reported Gersen's arrival. Gersen of course might choose
to set down at another star system. It would be difficult to mount
guard over every space port of the Oikumene.

But it was by no means Gersen's purpose to go into hiding. In
the next phase of proceedings he must necessarily expose himself.

THE STAR KING

47

This next phase was the identification of Malagate. Two methods
to this end suggested themselves: he could either trace the registry
of the monitor, or await the approach of some member of Mala-
gate's organization, and then try to trace the nerve of authority back
to its source.

Malagate would take for granted Gersen's intent to investigate
the monitor, and would presumably concentrate his vigilance at the
Kindune spaceport, which served Sansontiana.

Nevertheless, for a series of indefinite reasons—little more than
hunches—Gersen decided to land at the Grand Interplanetary
Spaceport at Avente.

He approached Alphanor, coasted down into landing orbit,
locked his autopilot into the official landing program, and once
more sat back. The boat settled, bumped in a roar of expiring jets
upon the scorched red earth. The jets died; there was silence. Au-
tomatically the pressure-equalizing valve began to hiss.

The port-officials approached in a slide car. Gersen answered
questions, submitted to a brief medical inspection, received an entry
permit. The officials departed; a mobile crane trundled up, lifted
the boat, carried it to a bay in the storage line at one side of the
field.

Gersen descended to the ground, feeling exposed and vulner-
able. He started to detach the monitor, keeping a careful lookout
in all directions.

Two men sauntered along the storage line, casually, or so it
seemed. Gersen recognized one of them instantly: the Sarcoy who
had followed Hildemar Dasce into Smade's Tavern.

As they approached, Gersen gave them no overt heed, but they
made no twitch or move that he did not observe. The Sarkoy wore
a modest suit of dark gray with epaulettes embroidered with opals;

his companion, a thin sandy-hatred man with dancing white-gray
eyes, wore a laborer's loose blue coverall.

The two stopped a few feet from Gersen, stood watching as if
in casual interest. Gersen, after a glance, ignored them, though his
skin crawled and his pulse pounded. The Sarkoy muttered some-
thing to his associate, came a little forward.

"I think we've met?" His voice was soft, sardonic.

"Your name evades me," said Gersen politely.

"I am Suthiro, Sivij Suthiro."

48

THK DEMON PRINCKS

Gersen examined him carefully, seeing a man of middle weight,
with the curious flat head of the Sarkoy Steppeman,* the face wider
than high. Suthiro's eyes were soft dead olive-drab, the nose snub
and dark of nostril, the mouth wide, thick-lipped—a face shaped
by more than a thousand years of specialization and inbreeding.
Gersen could not detect the "breath of death," an accomplishment
forced upon indentured assassins, which shortened their lives, gave
the skin a yellowish glaze, and caused the hair to stiffen. Suthiro's
skin was untoned pallid ivory, his hair was a glossy black pelt, and
he wore tattooed on his right cheek the small Maltese cross of the

Sarkoy hetman.

Gersen said, "My apologies, Scop Suthiro. I don't remember

the occasion you mention."

"Ah." Suthiro's eyes widened at Gersen's use of the honorific.
"You have visited Sarkovy. Dear green Sarkovy, its boundless

steppes, its merry festivals!"

"Merry, so long as the harikap last. Then what will you tor-
ture?"

Suthiro, of a race inured to insult, took no offense. "We always

have each other. ... I see you know my planet well."

"Fairly well. Perhaps you remember me from Sarkovy."
"No," said Suthiro wryly. "Elsewhere, and more recently."
Gersen shook his head. "Impossible. I have just come in from

Beyond."

"Exactly. We met Beyond. At Smade's Tavern."

"Indeed."

"Yes. With certain others I came to meet my friend Lugo Tee-
halt. In the confusion and excitement Lugo left Smade's Planet in
your spaceship. Surely you are aware of this?"

*The Sarkoy were held in low esteem by other peoples of the Oikumene, by virtue of
repugnant eating habits and gross and exhibitionistic sexual conduct. Also despised was
the popular Sarkov sport known as harbite, or the baiting of a harikap, a large bristle-
furred semi-intelligent biped of the north forests- The wretched creature, brought to a
state of tension by hunger, would be thrust into a circle of men armed with pitchforks
and torches, stimulated to wild activity by being set on fire, thrust deftly with pitchforks
back into the center of the circle as it sought to escape,

Sarkovy, the single planet of Phi Ophiuchi, was a dim world of steppes, swamps,
black forests, morasses. The Sarkoy lived in tall wooden houses behind timber palisades;

not even the largest of the towns was secure from the attack of bandits and nomads from
the wastelands. By practice and tradition the Sarkoy were accomplished poisoners- A Mas-
ter Venefice reportedly could kill a man merely by walking past him.

THE STAR KING

49

Gersen laughed. "IfTeehalt has either apologies or complaints,
I'm sure he will seek me out."

"Exactly," said Suthiro. "Lugo Teehalt sent me to make ad-
justment. He begs forgiveness for his mistake, and wishes only that
I recover his monitor."

Gersen shook his head. "You can't have it."

"No?" Suthiro moved closer. "Lugo offers a thousand SVU*
to indemnify you for his mistake."

"I accept with thanks. Give me the money."

"And the monitor?"

"I will return it when he comes for it."

The thin-faced man made an irritable clicking sound, but Su-
thiro grinned. "This is not exactly feasible. You will have the
money, but we will not have the monitor."

"There is no reason why you should have the monitor. Lugo
Teehalt is one principal in the matter; I will give him his monitor.
I am the other principal in the matter; it is perfectly legitimate for
you to give me the money. Unless, of course, you distrust my hon-
esty."

"By no means, since we do not intend to put it to the test. We
propose, in fact, to take the monitor at this moment."

"I think not," said Gersen. "I plan to take possession of the
filament."

"This is out of the question!" said Suthiro gently.

"Try to stop me." Gersen returned to work, disengaged the
seals from the monitor housing.

Suthiro watched placidly. He made a signal to the thin-faced
man, who backed away and kept lookout. "I could stop you so
suddenly you'd become a marble statue." He looked over his shoul-
der to the thin-faced man, who nodded. Suthiro exhibited a weapon
he carried in his hand. "I can provide you a heart spasm, a brain
hemorrhage, or a convulsion of the small intestine, whichever you
prefer."

Gersen paused in his work, drew a deep sigh. "Your arguments
are impressive. Pay me five thousand SVU."

"I need pay you nothing. But here is the thousand I men-
tioned." He tossed Gersen a packet of notes, then motioned to the
thin-faced man, who came forward, took Gersen's tools, and ex-

*SVU: Standard Value Unit of the Oikumene.

50

THE DEMON PRINCES

pertly detached the monitor. Gersen counted the money, moved to
the side. The two dropped the monitor into a bag and, without
another word, departed. Gersen laughed quietly. This was the mon-
itor he had bought and installed at Euville, at a cost of four hundred
SVU. Teehalt's monitor was safe inside the ship.

Gersen returned into the ship, closed the ports. Time now was
of the essence. Suthiro would require about ten minutes to com-
municate his success, either to Dasce or conceivably to Malagate
himself. Messages would then go out to various other spaceports of
the Concourse, calling off the alert. Malagate would not receive the
monitor, if Gersen were in luck, for several hours, perhaps not for
days, depending upon his whereabouts. There would be an addi-
tional delay while the deception was discovered, and then Mala-
gate's organization would once again be mobilized, the focus now
upon the Feritse Precision Instrument Company at Sansontiana, on

Olliphane.

By this time Gersen hoped to have been there and gone. Cer-
tainly he would have no time to spare. Without further delay he
started the jets, rose into the blue Alphanor sky, pointed the boat
toward Olliphane.

From Popular Handbook of the Planets:

Olliphane, nineteenth planet of the Rigel Concourse.
Planetary Constants:

Diameter      6700 miles

Mass           0.9

etc.

General Remarks: Olliphane is the most dense of the
Rigel planets, and orbits close at the outer edge of the Hab-
itable Zone. It has been speculated that when the proto-
planet of the Third Group disintegrated Olliphane received
an unduly large share of core materials. In any event, until
recent astronomic times, Olliphane was subject to intense
plutonic activity, and even today boasts ninety-two active
volcanoes.

Olliphane is highly mineralized. An imposing relief
provides vast hydro-electric potential, furnishing cheaper
energy than is possible from traditional sources. A diligent
disciplined population, utilizing these advantages, has made
Olliphane the most highly industrialized world of the Con-
course, rivaled only by Tantamount, with its shipyards, and
Lyonnesse, with its monumental Gnome Iron Works.

Olliphane is relatively cool and wet, with the population
concentrated in the Equatorial Zone, notably around the
shores of Lake Clare. Here the visitor will find the ten larg-
est cities of the planet, led by Kindune, Sansontiana, and
New Ossining.

THE DEMON PRINCES

Olliphane is likewise nutritionally self-sufficient. Few
other than natural foods are consumed, of which per capita
consumption is highest in the Concourse, third highest
among major worlds of the Oikumene. The alpine valleys
surrounding the lake are devoted to dairying and the pro-
duction of greenstuffs.

The Olphs are a mingled stock, derived primarily from
a colony of Hyperborean Skaters. They are typically blond
to brown of hair, large-boned, often inclined to corpulence,
with fair undyed skins. They are respectful of orthodoxy,
sedate in personal lives, but notoriously enthusiastic during
the public fetes and celebrations which serve as emotional
release to an otherwise conventional and reserved folk.

A caste system, though without legal status, permeates
every phase of the social structure. Prerogatives are care-
fully denned, jealously observed; the language has expanded
and loosened to provide at least a dozen styles of address.

From "A Study of Inter-Class Accommodations," by
Frerb Hankbert, in Journal of the Anthropicene, Vol.

Mcxm:

It is a remarkable experience for a visitor to watch a
pair of Olphs, strange to each other, appraising each other
for caste. The operation requires no more than an instant,
and appears almost intuitive, for the persons concerned may
well be wearing standard garments.

I have questioned many Olphs in this matter, and can
still make no definite assertions. In the first place most
Olphs blandly deny the existence of caste structure, and
consider their society completely egalitarian. In the second
place, the Olphs themselves are not quite sure how they
divine the caste of a stranger. He either has more of the
quality known as haute than oneself, or less.

I have theorized that rapid unconscious and almost un-
detectable eye movements are the key to the assessment of
haute, with characteristic shifts or steadiness indicative of
each caste. Hands and hand morions may play a similar
function.

As might be expected, high officials of the bureaucracy

THE STAR KI\G

enjoy the most exalted caste, and especially the Civic Tu-
telars, as the Olphs name their police.

Gersen landed at the Kmdune spaceport and, with Tcehalt's mon-
itor in a suitcase, boarded a subway for Sansontiana. To the best of
his knowledge no one had heeded his arrival, no one had followed
him.

But now time was growing short. At any moment Malagate
must realize he had been duped and would seek to re-establish con-
tact. For the moment Gersen considered himself safe; nevertheless,
he performed a few classic maneuvers to disengage himself from
stick-tight* or tracker. Finding nothing to disconcert him, he de-
posited the monitor in a public locker, at the subway interchange
under the Rapunzel Hotel, retaining only the brass serial plate.
Then, boarding an express car, he was delivered in fifteen minutes,
to Sansontiana, eighty miles south. He consulted a directory, trans-
ferred to a local for the Ferristoun District, and presently was dis-
charged into a station only a few hundred yards from the Feritse
Precision Instrument Company.

Ferristoun was a dismal district of industrial structures, ware-
houses, an occasional tavern; these latter cheerful little nooks, lavish
with ornament, colored glass, carved wood, in emulation of the
grand pleasure arcades along the lake shore.

The time was middle morning; rain had darkened the black
cobblestone pavement. Six-wheel drays lumbered along the streets,
the entire district sounded to a subdued hum of engines. As Gersen
walked a short sharp bleat of whistle signaled a change of shift; the
sidewalks at once became crowded with workers. They were pale
people, blank and humorless of face, wearing warm well-made cov-
eralls in one of three colors: gray, dark blue, or mustard yellow; a

"Stick-tight—these come in at least five varieties, suitable to various applications

The bervo-opticai—a spy cell supported on rotary \vings, remotely guided h\ an oper-
ator

The automatic—a similar cell [o follow ,1 radioactive or monochromatic lag fixed to, ur
smeared upon, a man or vehicle

The Gulp spy master—a semi-inteiligenr flying crearure trained to follow any suh|ect
of interest, clever, cooptrative, ichahle, hue relatively large and nodceable
The M.inv spy bird—a smaller, less obnusive cre.irure, trained to perform smularlv, less
docile and intelligent, more aggressive
The Manx sp\ bird modification—similar to the above, equipped with control devices

54

THE DEMON PRINCES

contrasting belt, either black or white; black round-topped kaftans.
All were standard issue, the government being an elaborate syndi-
calism, as thoroughgoing, careful and humorless as its constituency.
Two further bleats of the whistle sounded; as if by magic the
streets cleared, the workers ducking into buildings like cockroaches

exposed to the light.

A moment later Gersen came to a stained concrete facade on
which large bronze letters read FERITSE, and below, in the hooked
Olph script; Precision Instruments. Again it had become necessary to
expose himself to his enemies; the prospect was far from comfort-
able. Well, there was no help for it. A single small door led into
the building. Gersen entered, to find himself in a long dim hallway,
a concrete tunnel, which after a hundred feet brought him to the
administration offices. He went to stand at a counter, and was ap-
proached by an elderly woman of pleasant appearance and manner.
By local custom, she wore masculine garments while at work; a dark
blue suit with a black belt. Recognizing Gersen as an off-worlder,
of unguessable caste, she bowed with unctuous courtesy and asked
In a low reverent voice: "How, sir, may we serve you?"

Gersen tendered the brass plate. "I have lost the key to my

monitor, and I want a duplicate."

The woman blinked. Her manner underwent an instant, if un-
conscious, change. She reached hesitantly for the plate, held it be-
tween thumb and forefinger as if it were tainted, looked over her

shoulder.

"Well?" asked Gersen in a voice made suddenly harsh by ten-
sion. "Is there any difficulty?"

"There are new regulations," the woman muttered. "I have had
instructions to. ... I must consult Director-Controller Masensen.

Excuse me, sir."

She went almost at a trot to a side door, disappeared. Gersen

waited, the subconscious perceptors in his brain ticking and prick-
ling. He was more nervous than he cared to be; nervousness
clouded the Judgment, affected the accuracy of observation... . The
woman slowly returned to the counter, looking to right and left,
evading Gersen's eyes. "Just a moment, sir. If you will wait.. . .
There are records to be inspected; isn't this the way always? When

a person wishes haste. . . ."

"Where is the serial plate?" asked Gersen.
"Director-Controller Masensen has taken it into charge."

THE STAR KING

55

"In that case, I'll speak to Director-Controller Masensen at
once."

"I will inquire," said the woman.

"Please don't bother," said Gersen. Ignoring her startled
squeak of protest, he let himself through a swinging door, passed
ahead of her into the inner chamber. A portly thick-faced man in
faddish Special Issue blue and dove gray sat at a desk talking into
a telephone. He looked at the brass serial plate as he spoke. At the
sight of Gersen his eyebrows rose, his mouth sagged in irritation
and dismay. Quickly he laid down the telephone. There was an
instant while his eyes nicked up and down Gersen's clothes before
he shouted, "Who are you, sir? Why do you come into my room?"

Gersen reached across the desk, took possession of the serial
plate. "Whom do you telephone in connection with this matter?"

Masensen became fiercely haughty. "None of your concern,
whatsoever! Impudence! Here in my office!"

Gersen spoke in a soft even voice. "The Tutelars will be inoer-
ested in your illegal actions. I am puzzled that you choose to defy
the law."

Masensen sat back, in puff-cheeked alarm. The Tutelars, of a
caste so elevated that the distinction between Masensen and his
office clerk would seem insignificant, were not to be trifled with.
They were no respecters of persons; they tended to believe the
accusation rather than the protestation of innocence. They wore
uniforms of a sumptuous thick pile which showed various sheens
according to the light: plum, dark green, gold. Not so much arro-
gant as intensely serious, they conducted themselves to the full
implications of their caste. On Olliphane penal torture was admin-
istered as a cheaper, if not more effective, deterrent than fines of
imprisonment; the threat of a police accusation could therefore
bring consternation to the most innocent.

Director-Controller Masensen cried out, "I have never defied
the law! Do I refuse your request? No indeed."

"Then furnish my key immediately, as the law requires."

"Softly then," said Masensen. "W''e cannot go so fast. There
are records to inspect. Don't forget, we have more important affairs
than leaping to serve every raggle-taggle vagabond of a locator who
marches into our room to insult us."

Gersen stared into the round pale face, which gave back hos-

56

THE DKMON PRINCES

tility and defiance. "Very well," said Gersen. "I will go to complain
before the Board ofTutelars."

"Now then, be reasonable!" blurted Masensen in heavy affa-
bility. "All things do not come at once."

"Where is my key? Do you still plan to defy the law?"
"Naturally, no such thing is possible. I will see to the matter.
Come, be patient. Take a chair and compose yourself for just these

few minutes."

"I do not care to wait."

"Go, then!" bellowed Masensen. "I have done exactly as the
law requires!" His lips were pushing in and out; his face was pink
with fury; he hammered the desk with his fists. The clerk, standing
horrified in the doorway, emitted a low wail of terror. "Bring the
Tutelars!" raged Masensen. "I will accuse you of molestation and
threats! I will see you whipped!"

Gersen dared delay no longer. Furiously he turned, departed.
He passed through the outer office and out into the concrete tun-
nel. He paused, turned a quick look behind him. The receptionist,
fluttering in excitement, paid him no heed. Grinning like a wolf,
Gersen walked up the hall, away from the entrance, and presently
came to an arched opening giving upon the production chambers.

Standing to the side, inconspicuous in the shadow of a pilaster,
he made a careful appraisal of the rooms, tracing the various pro-
duction lines. Certain phases were under biomechanical control,
others were performed by debtors, moral deviants, vagrants or
drunks, leased by the dozen from the city. They sat chained to their
benches, guarded by an old warden, and worked with apathetic ef-
ficiency. The room supervisor sat on an elevated platform, which
could swing on a boom to any area of the room.

Gersen located the process where monitors were constructed,
identified the area where locks were installed: an alcove two hun-
dred feet along the wall, beside a cubicle where a clerical worker,
perhaps a timekeeper, sat on a high chair.

He made a final survey of the room. No one had showed the
slightest interest in him. The supervisor's attention was turned else-
where. He walked quickly along the wall to the cubicle where the
clerk sat: a harassed hollow-cheeked young-old man, with sardonic
black eyebrows, a wrinkled sallow skin, a cynical hook of nose and
curl of mouth: a man not necessarily a pessimist, but apparently one

THE STAR KING

57

without optimism. Gersen stepped to the back of the cubicle, where
there were shadows.

The clerk looked around in astonishment. "Well, sir? W-Tiat do
you wish? This is not permitted; you must know that."

Gersen asked, "Would you care to earn a hundred SVU—very
quickly?"

The clerk grimaced sadly. "Of course. W'Tio must I kill?"

"My wants are less demanding," said Gersen. He displayed the
brass plate. "Get me the key for this instrument, and fifty SVU is
yours." He placed five purple notes on the table. "Find out to
whom the serial number is registered—fifty SVU more." He
counted down the notes.                  '

The clerk looked at the money, then turned a speculative glance
over his shoulder, out across the shop. "WTiy not go to the front
office? The Director-Controller usually handles such things."

"I have irritated Director-Controller Masensen," said Gersen.
"He makes difficulties, and I am in a hurry."

"In other words, Director-Controller Masensen would not ap-
prove of my helping you."

"Which is why I offer you the hundred SVU to perform an
entirely legal errand for me."

"Is it worth my job?"

"If I leave by the back way, no one need know. And Masensen
will never know the difference."

The clerk considered. "Very well," he said. "I can do it. But
I'll need another fifty SVU for the keymaker."

Gersen shrugged, brought forth an orange fifty SVU note. "I
will appreciate haste."

The clerk laughed. "From my viewpoint, the sooner you are
gone the better. I'll have to look through two sets of records. We're
not too efficient here. Meanwhile keep to the back, out of sight."
He noted the serial number, left the cubicle, disappeared behind a
partition.

Time passed. Gersen noticed that the back wall was paneled
with painted glass. Bending, he put his eye to a scratch and obtained
a blurred view of the room behind the partition.

The clerk stood at an old-fashioned filing case, nipping cards.
He found the file, made a set of notes. But now from a side door
Masensen lumbered into the room. The clerk closed the file, walked
away. Masensen stopped short, fired a question at the clerk, who

58

THP^ DEMON PRINCES

responded with an indifferent word or two. Gersen paid silent trib-
ute to his sang-froid. Masensen glared after him, then wheeled and

went to the files.

With one eye on Masensen's burly back, the clerk bent over
the keymaker, whispered in his ear, departed. Masensen looked
around suspiciously, but the clerk had left the room.

The machinist dropped a key blank into the machine, consulted
a paper, punched a set of buttons to control the notches, twists,
conductivities and magnetic nodes of the key.

Masensen rummaged through the files, extracted a card,
marched from the room. The clerk at once returned. The machinist
tossed him the key; the clerk came back to the cubicle. He handed
the key to Gersen, took five purple notes from the table.

"And the registration?" asked Gersen.

"I can't help you. Masensen got to the files ahead of me and

removed the card."

Gersen glumly considered the key. His main purpose had been
to learn the registered owner of the monitor. The key of course
was better than nothing; the record filament was easier to hide than
the monitor itself- But time was short; he dared delay no longer.
"Keep the other fifty," he said. The money, after all, had come
from Malagate. "Buy your children a present."

The clerk shook his head. "I accept pay only for what I achieve.

I need no gift."

"As you wish." Gersen returned the money to his pocket. "Tell

me how to leave inconspicuously."

"You had better go the way you came," said the clerk. "If you
try to go out the back way you will be stopped by the patrol."
"Thank you," said Gersen. "You are not Olph?"
"No. But I've lived here so long I've forgotten anything better."
Gersen looked cautiously from the cubicle. The situation was
as before. He slipped out, walked quickly along the wall to the arch,
slipped through into the concrete tunnel. Passing the door which
led into the administration offices, he looked through, saw Masen-
sen pacing back and forth, evidently in a vicious mood. Gersen
stepped past, hurried down the hall toward the outside door.

But now this door opened. A man entered, his features dark
against the outside light. Gersen continued forward briskly, confi-
dently, as if his business were the most legitimate in the world-

THE STAR KING

59

The man approached; their eyes met. The newcomer stopped:

it was Tristano the Earthman.

"Luck!" declared Tristano in a voice of hushed pleasure. "Luck
indeed."

Gersen made no reply. Slowly, carefully, he sought to sidle past,
too nervous and tense to feel fear. Tristano took a step, blocked his
way. Gersen halted, appraised him. Tristano was shorter than him-
self by an inch, but thick in the neck and shoulders, flat but rather
wide at the hips: an attribute indicating agility and good muscular
leverage. His head was small, almost hairless; his features were neat.
The ears were surgically cropped, the nose flat, the area around the
mouth thick with muscle. His expression was calm, with a serene
secret half-smile twisting up the corners of his mouth. He seemed
reckless rather than vicious: a man who would fee! neither hate nor
pity, a man driven only by the need to fulfill the extremes of his
capabilities. A highly dangerous man, thought Gersen. He said qui-
etly, "Stand aside."

Tristano extended his left hand almost affably. "Whatever your
name is, be wise. Come with me." Flicking and weaving the ex-
tended hand, he leaned forward. Gersen watched Tristano's eyes,
ignoring the distracting left hand. WTien the right hand darted forth
he knocked it aside, drove his fist into Tristano's face.

Tristano reeled back, as if in desperate pain, and Gersen pre-
tended to be deceived. He rushed forward, arm cocked back to
administer another blow, then halted abruptly as with incredible
agility Tristano swung up his leg: a kick intended to cripple or kill.
As the foot swung by, Gersen seized toe and heel, twisted hard.
Tristano, relaxing instantly, turned in mid-air, pulled himself into
a ball, used the momentum of his turn and fall to wrench the foot
harmlessly from Gersen's grasp. He caught himself catlike on hands
and feet, started to bounce away, but Gersen caught the back of
Tristano's head, yanked Tristano's face down against his knee. Car-
tilage crushed, teeth broke.

Tristano fell back, now startled. For an instant he sat laxly
asprawl. Gersen caught Tristano's leg and ankle in a lock, threw
over his weight, and felt the bone snap. Tristano sucked in his
breath. Snatching for his knife, he left his throat exposed; Gersen
hacked backhand at the larynx. Tristano's throat was well-muscled,
and he retained consciousness, but fell back, feebly waving his knife.

60

THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen kicked it away, but edged forward carefully, for Tristano
might be equipped with one or a dozen secret built-in weapons.

"Leave me be," croaked Tristano. "Leave me be, go vour way."
He dragged himself to the wall.

Gersen cautiously reached forth, giving Tristano the option to
counter. Tristano refused; Gersen made contact with the massive
shoulders, gripped. Tristano suffered this. The two stared eye to
eye- Tristano made a sudden grab for an armlock, simultaneously
bringing up his good leg. Gersen avoided the armlock, seized the
leg, prepared to break the other ankle. Behind him there was out-
cry, a flurry of movement. Director-Controller Masensen, face con-
torted, came running awkwardly down the hall. Behind him trotted
two or three underlings.

"Stop this!" cried Masensen. "What do you do here, in this
building?" lie fairly spat in Gersen's face, "You are a devil, a crim-
inal of the worst sort! You insult me, you attack my customer! I
will have the Tutelars attend to you!"

"By all means," panted Gersen, suddenly brimming with vin-

dictiveness. "Call the Tutelars."

Masensen raised his eyebrows. "What? You have this insolence
too?"

"No insolence is intended," said Gersen. "A good citizen assists
the police in apprehending criminals."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a certain name which I need speak only once to the
Tutelars. I need only hint that you and this person are in collusion.
For proof? This man"— he looked down at the half-smiling, half-
dazed Tristano—"do you know him?"

"No. Of course I do not know him."

"But you identified him as a customer."

"So I'thought him."

"He is a notorious murderer."

"Waning, my agile friend," croaked Tristano. "No murderer I."

"Lugo Teehalt is not alive to contradict you."

Tristano essayed a grimace of outraged innocence. "W^e spoke,
you and I, while the old man died."

"In this case, neither Dasce nor the Sarkoy killed Teehalt. Who
came with you to Smade's Planet?"

"We came alone."

THE STAR KWG

61

Gersen stared in puzzlement. "I find this hard to believe. Hil-
demar Dasce told Teehalt that Malagate awaited him outside."

Tristano's response was a faint shrug.

Gersen stood looking down at him. "I respect the Tutelars and
their scourges; I dare not kill you. But I can break more bones, and
you will walk sideways like a crab. I can spread apart your eyes, and
you will look in two different directions the rest of your life."

The lines bracketing Tristano's mouth became deep and mel-
ancholy. He slumped heavily back against the wall, uninterested,
sodden with pain. He mumbled, "Since when is killing beyond the
Pale called murder?"

"Who killed Teehalt?"

"I saw nothing. I stood with you, by the door."

"But the three of you came together to Smade's."

Tristano made no response. Gersen leaned forward, performed
a quick vicious act. Masensen made an inarticulate sound, stumbled
away; then, halting as if caught by a wire, he slowly turned to stare.
Tristano looked numbly at his dangling hand.-

"Who killed Teehalt?"

Tristano shook his head. "I will say no more. I would rather
limp and squint than die of the Sarkoy's cluthe."

"I can infect you with cluthe."

"I will say no more."

Gersen leaned forward, but Masensen uttered a short quavering
cry. "This is intolerable! I will not allow it! Must you give me
nightmares? I do not sleep well."

Gersen examined him without friendliness. "You would do well
not to interfere."

"I will call in the Tutelars. Your acts are grossly illegal; you
have broken laws of the state."

Gersen laughed. "Call the Tutelars. We will learn who has
broken laws and who will be punished."

Masensen rubbed his pallid cheeks. "Go then. Never return,
and I will say no more."

"Not so fast," said Gersen, in high good spirits. "You are in
serious difficulties. I came here on a legal errand; you telephone for
a murderer, who attacks me. This conduct no one should ignore."

Masensen licked his lips. "You are making false charges; I will
add this to my particulars." It was a poor effort. Gersen laughed.
He went to Tristano, turned him over on his face, pulled the jacket

62

THK DEMON PRINCES

down the broad back to constrict the arms, tied it in place with
Tristano's sash. With his broken bones Tristano was now immo-
bilized.

Gersen stepped down the hall, motioned to Masensen. "Let us

go to your office."

Gersen led the way, with Masensen stumping reluctantly be-
hind; once within the inner office, Masensen sank on nerveless legs

into his chair.

"Now then," said Gersen, "call the Tutelars."

Masensen shook his head. "It—it is better to make no difficul-
ties. The Tutelars are sometimes unreasonable."

"In that case you must tell me what I want to know."

Masensen bowed his head. "Ask."

"Who did you telephone when I appeared?"

Masensen showed extreme agitation. "I cannot tell you," he
said huskily. "Do you insist that I be killed?"

"The Tutelars will ask the same question, as well as many oth-
ers."

Masensen looked in anguish to right, left, up at the ceiling. "A
man," he said, "at the Grand Pomador Hotel. His name—Spock."

"I know better," said Gersen. "You are lying. I give you one
more chance. Who did you call?"

Masensen shook his head desperately. "I do not lie."

"Have you seen the man?"

"Yes. He is tall. He has short pink hair, a long big head and
no neck. His face is a peculiar red color, and he wears dark spec-
tacles, and a nose guard—very unusual. He has no more feeling

than a fish."

Gersen nodded. Masensen was telling the truth. This would be
Hildemar Dasce. He turned. "Now then, this is most important. I
wish to know to whom the monitor is registered."

Masensen started to shake his head, then gave a fatalistic shrug
and rose to his feet. "I will go for the record."

"No," said Gersen. "We will go together. And if we cannot
find the record, I swear to you I will lodge the strongest possible

charges."

Masensen rubbed his forehead wearily. "I remember now. The
record is here." He brought forth a card from his desk. "Sea Prov-
ince University, Avente, Alphanor. Beneficial Grant 291."

"No name?"

THE STAR KING

63

"No. And there is no value to you in the key. The university
uses a coder in each of its monitors. We have sold them several."

"Indeed." The use of a coder, to thwart the double-dealing of
an unscrupulous locater, was common enough.

Masensen's voice became heavily ironic. "The university has
evidently sold you a coded monitor without the descrambling strip.
If I were you I would complain to the Avente authorities."

Gersen considered the implications of the information. They
were far-reaching indeed, if one certain condition were met.

"Why did you telephone the man Spock? Did he offer you
money?"

Masensen nodded miserably. "Money. And—he made threats.
An indiscretion in my past—" he made a vague gesture.

"Tell me, did Spock realize that the monitor was coded?"

"Certainly. I mentioned this to him, but he was already aware
of it."

Gersen nodded. The condition had been met. Attel Malagate
must necessarily have access to the descrambling strip at the Sea
Province University.

He reflected for a moment. Information was accumulating.
Malagate himself had killed Teehalt, if Hildemar Dasce were to be
believed. Tristano indirectly had verified this; he had conveyed
more information than he meant to. He had also confused the sit-
uation. If Dasce, the Sarkoy poisoner, and Tristano had come to-
gether, with no fourth person, how was the presence of Malagate
to be explained? Had he arrived simultaneously in another ship?
Possible, but unlikely. . . .

Masensen was staring at him anxiously, miserably.

"I'm going now," said Gersen. "Do you plan to tell this Spock
that I was here?"

Masensen nodded, all his bluster departed. "I must."

"But you will wait one hour."

Masensen made no protest. He might or might not respect
Gersen's wishes—most likely not. But there was no help for this.
Gersen turned, departed the office, leaving Masensen utterly de-
flated.

Walking down the hall Gersen overtook Tristano, who some-
how had managed to squirm and writhe himself erect. Now he
hopped down the hall, one foot dragging at a queer angle. He
looked over his shoulder at Gersen, still wearing the quiet half

64

THE, DEMON PRINCES

smile, though the muscles around his mouth were tight. Gersen
stopped to consider the man. It would be wise and desirable to kill
him, except for the possibility of police interference. So, contenting
himself with a polite nod, and stepping past Tristano, he went his

way.

6

Preface to Men of the Oikumene,
by Jan Holberk Vaenz LXII:

There is a stifling quality to this age which has been
observed, remarked on and lamented by a number of the
contemporary anthropologists: an oddity, for never before
have such variegated opportunities and possible channels of
life existed. It is profitable to consider this situation, for it
will recur many times in the pages to follow.

The most important fact of human life is the infinity of
space: the bounds which can never be reached, the worlds
without number still unseen—in short, the Beyond. It is my
belief that the awareness of these awesome possibilities has
somehow clotted at the core of human consciousness, and
has diminished or dampened human enterprise,

An instant qualification is necessary. Men of enterprise
indeed exist, though sadly enough most of them work Be-
yond, and their enterprise is not entirely constructive. (The
statement is not completely ironical: many of the most nox-
ious forms of life exert some sort of useful side effect.)

But, in general, ambition is turned inward, rather than
out toward the obvious goals. Why? Does infinity, as an
object of experience instead of a mathematical abstraction,
daunt the human mind? Are we complacent and secure,
knowing that the riches of the galaxy are always there for
the taking? Is contemporary life already sated by too rich a
diet or novelty? Is it conceivable that the Institute wields
more control over the human psyche than we suspect? Or

THK DEMON PRINCES

is there current a feeling of frustration ant] staleness, the
conviction that all glory- has been won, that all the mean-
ingful goals have been achieved?

Undoubtedly there is no single answer. But several
points are noteworthy. First (to be mentioned without com-
ment) is the peculiar situation where the most influential
and effective systems of the day are the private, or at best
semipublic, associations: the IPCC, the Institute, theJarnell

Corporation.

Second is the decline of the general level of education.
The extremes are certainly farther apart; the savants of the
Institute on the one hand, and, say, the serfs of a Tertullian
estate on the other. If we consider the condition of men
beyond the Pale, the polarity is even more pronounced.
There are obvious sources to the decline. Pioneers settling
in strange and often hostile environments have sheer sur-
vival for their first concern. Possibly even more daunting is
the unmanageable mass of accumulated knowledge. The
trend toward specialization began with modern times, but
after the breakout into space, and the consequent new am-
plitude of information, specialization has become even

more narrowly focused.

It is perhaps pertinent to consider the manner of man
who has become the new specialist. He lives in a materi-
alistic age, where comparatively small interest is given to
absolutes. He is a man of charm, wit, sophistication, but no
profundity. His ideals are not abstract. His field of en-
deavor, if he is a scholar, may be mathematics or one of the
physical sciences; but it is a hundred times more likely to
be a phase of what loosely are called humanistic studies:

history, sociology, comparatives, symbology, esthetics, an-
thropology, the varieties of experience, penology, educa-
tion, communication, administration and coercion, not to
mention the morass of psychology already trampled by gen-
erations of incompetents, and the still unexplored wilder-
ness of psionics.

There are also those who, like the author, ensconce

themselves on a thunderous crag ot omniscience, and with
protestations of humility which are either unconvincing or
totally absent, assume the obligation of appraisal, commen-

THE STAR KING

dation, derogation or denunciation of their contemporaries.
Still, by and large it is an easier job than digging a ditch.

From Ten Explorers: A Study of a Type,
by Oscar Anderson:

Every world has its distinctive psychic aroma: this is a
matter attested to by each of the ten explorers. Isack Can-
aday is willing to wager that if he were blindfolded and
taken to any planet of the Oikumene or the immediate Be-
yond, he would correctly identify this planet immediately
upon removal of the blindfold. How does he perform such
a feat? At first glance it seems incomprehensible. Canaday
himself professes not to know the source of his knowledge.
"I Just raise my nose, I look around the sky, I take a couple
jumps—and it comes to me."

Canaday's explanation is of course arch and consciously
quaint. Our senses are undoubtedly much more acute than
we suspect. The composition of the air, the color of the
light and the sky, the curvature and proximity of the hori-
zon, the tension of gravity: these are presumably interpreted
in our brains to produce an individuality, exactly as the sight
of eyes, a nose, hair, a mouth, ears, creates the look of a
face.

All of this without mention of flora and fauna, the ar-
tifices of autochthone or man, the possibly distinctive look
of sun or suns. . . .

From Life, Volume III,
by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

As a society matures, the struggle for survival imper-
ceptibly graduates and changes emphasis, and becomes
what can only be termed the quest for pleasure. This is a
large statement, possibly of no startling novelty. Neverthe-
less, as a generality, it affords a rich resonance of implica-
tions. The author suggests as a lively topic for a dissertation
a survey of various environment-survival situations and the
special types of pleasure goals deriving therefrom. It seems
probable, from a moment's reflection, that every particular

68

THE DFMON PRINCFS

scarcity or compulsion or danger generates a corresponding
psychic tension demanding a particular gratification.

Gersen returned to the subway terminal at Sansontiana. He re-
co\ered the monitor, immediately made a trial of the key. To his
gratification the lock moved smoothly, the case slid open.

There was neither explosive nor acid present He extracted the
little cylinder containing the filament, weighed it m his hand. Then
he stepped into a post-office booth and mailed the cylinder to him-
self at the Hotel Credenza, Avente, Alphanor. He rode the subway
back to Kindune and the spaceport, and with no untoward incident
took his ship aloft.

The blue crescent of Alphanor presently bulged across the sky,
with Ri^el dazzling beyond. When the seven continents began to
emerge from the dark, Gersen engaged his autopilot into the Av-
ente landing program, and so was guided down to the spaceport.
The crane lifted the boat, earned it to a storage bay; Gersen
emerged, made a cautious reconnaissance. Finding no evidence of
his enemies, he proceeded down the ranks of stored spacecraft to
the terminal building Here he breakfasted and considered his plans.
They were, he decided, completely straightforward, deriving from
a progression of logical steps in which he could see no flaw:

a. Lugo Teehalt's monitor was registered to the Sea Province

University.

b. The information on the monitor filament was coded, acces-
sible only upon application of the decoding, or descramblmg,

strip
c. The decoding strip was in possession of the Sea Province

University at Avente.
d.

1. According to Lugo Teehalt, Attel Malagate had been his
original sponsor (a fact he had apparently understood for
the first time at Brmktown. Indiscretions by Hildemar
Dasce^ Everything considered, Malagate probably still
regarded his incognito secure).

2  Malagate vigorously sought possession of the monitor
and its filament, and hence must have access to the de-
coding strip.
e.      Gersen's course of action would therefore be-

THE STAR K1\G

69

1. Identify the persons who had access to the decoding
strip.

2. Learn which of these fulfilled a set of conditions consis-
tent with the identity and activities of Malagate. Which,
for example, had been gone long enough for a visit to
Smade's Planet^

A straightforward and logical line of attack indeed. But, Gersen
reflected, the implementation of his logic might not be quite so
easy. He dare not arouse Malagate's apprehensions. To a certain
extent, possession ofTeehalt's filament provided security; however,
if Malagate felt a personal threat, he would find little difficulty, and
no qualms, in arranging an assassination. To this moment, Malagate
had no reason to fear exposure, and it would be foolhardy to con-
vince him otherwise. The initiative, for the present, was Gersen's;

there was no occasion for breakneck haste. . . . His attention be-
came distracted. In a booth nearby sat a pair of pretty girls who
evidently had come to the terminal to welcome a friend, or to see
one off- Gersen contemplated them wistfully, aware, not for the
first time, of an empty area in his life, and feeling a dissatisfaction
not unlike the indefinable emotion he had known at Smade's Planet.
Frivolity . . . the two girls evidently had very little else on their
minds. One had dyed her hair forest green and toned her skin a
delicate lettuce green. The other wore a wig of lavender metal shav-
ings with dead-white skin toning; an elaborate cloche of silver leaves
and tendrils clung to her forehead, clasped her cheeks.

Gersen drew a deep breath. Undoubtedly he had lived a grim,
cheerless existence. Thinking back across the years, scenes came
crowding into his mind, all of which were variations on a single
theme: other children occupied with irresponsible pleasure, while
he, a rather thin boy with a grave face, watched from a distance.
He had felt only interest and wonder at the easy gaiety—so he
recalled—never relating the scenes to himself. His grandfather had
seen to that. .. .

One of the girls at the nearby booth had noticed his attention;

she whispered to her friend. Both glanced across the aisle, then
ostentatiously ignored him. Gersen smiled ruefully. He felt no con-
fidence in his dealings with women; he had known few intimately.
He frowned, turned the two a wary side glance. Not impossibly,
Malagate had sent these girls to beguile him. Ridiculous. Why two;i

70

THE DF.MON PRINCES

They rose and departed the restaurant, each turning on him one
swift covert glance.

Gersen watched their retreat, resisting the sudden urge to run
after them, to introduce himself, to make them his friends. . . . Ri-
diculous again, doubly ridiculous. What would he say? He pictured
the two pretty faces at first puzzled, then embarrassed, while he
stood making lame efforts to ingratiate himself. The girls were
gone. Just as well, thought Gersen, half amused, half angry with
himself. Still, why deceive himself? Living the life of half a man
was difficult, a source of dissatisfaction. The circumstances of his
life had given him small command of the social graces.

Still, what of that? He knew his mission in life, and he was
superbly prepared to fulfill this mission. He had no doubts, no un-
certainties; his goals were exactly defined. A sudden idea disturbed
the flow of his self-reassurances: Where would he be without this
clear purpose? If he were less artificially motivated, he might not
show so well in comparison with the easy men around him, with
their pleasant manners and fluent talk. . . . Turning the thought
over, back and forth, Gersen began to feel spiritually deficient. No
phase of his life had occurred by his own free choice. He felt no
slightest tremor in his dedication: this was not the point at issue.
But, he thought, a man's goals should not be imposed upon him
until he knew enough of the world to make his own survey, to weigh
his own decisions. He had not been given this option. The decision
had been made, he had accepted it. ... After all, what matter? More
to the point, what would he do when and if he succeeded in his
aims? The chances were small, of course. But—assuming the death
of five men—what then would he do with his life? Once or twice
before he had reached this point in his reflections; warned by some
subconscious signal, he had never gone beyond it. Nor did he do
so now. His breakfast was finished; the girls, who had prompted
him to his brooding, had taken themselves off. Evidently they were
not agents ofMalagate the Woe.

Gersen sat a few minutes longer considering the best approach
to his problem, and again decided upon simple directness.

He went to a communication booth and was connected to the
Information Bureau at the Sea Province University in the suburb
of Remo, ten miles south.

The telescreen flickered first with the university seal, then a
conventional reception presentation, printed with the words, Please

THE STAR KING

71

speak clearly. Simultaneously a recorded voice asked, "How may we
serve you?"

Gersen spoke to the still unseen receptionist. "I want infor-
mation regarding the university's exploration program. W^hich de-
partment is directly concerned?"

The screen clarified through a decorative cross-hatching to
show the gold-toned face of a young woman with blonde hair in
flamboyant puffs at each ear. "That depends on the type of explo-
ration."

"It would be connected with Beneficial Grant 291."

"Just a moment, sir, and I'll inquire." The scene retreated be-
hind the cross-hatching.

Presently the girl's face reappeared. "I'll connect you with the
Department of Galactic Morphology, sir."

Gersen looked into another pale receptionist face. This young
woman had arch piquant features toned nacreous silver, and wore
her hair in a dark nimbus of ten thousand tiny varnished spikes.
"Galactic Morph."

"I want to inquire about Beneficial Grant 291," said Gersen.

The girl considered for a moment. "You mean the grant itself,
sir?"

"The grant, how it operates, who administers it."
The arch young face pursed its mouth dubiously. "There's not

much I can tell you, sir. It's the fund which finances our exploration

program."

"I'm particularly interested in a locater named Lugo Teehalt,
who worked under the grant."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't know anything about him. Mr.
Detteras could tell you, but he's not available for appointments
today."

"Mr. Detteras hires the locators?"

The girl twisted her eyebrows, squinted; she had a mobile ex-
pression, a wide mouth with a merry upward twitch at the corners.
Gersen watched her in fascination. "I don't know too much about
things like that, sir. We have our part in the Master Exploration
Program, of course. That's not under Grant 291, though. Mr. Det-
teras is Director of Exploration; he could tell you whatever you
wanted to know."

"Is there anyone else in the department who might sponsor a
locater on Grant 291 ?"

72

THE DF.MON PRINCES

The girl looked speculatively sidewise at Gersen, wondering as
to the nature of his interest. "Are vou a police official?" she asked

timidly.

Gersen laughed. "No, I'm a friend of Mr. Teehalt's, trying to

finish up some business for him."

"Oh. Well, there's Mr. Kelle who is Chairman of the Research
Planning Committee. And Mr. Warweave, the Honorary Provost,
who made the donation for Grant 291. Mr. Kelle is gone for the
morning; his daughter is marrying tomorrow and he's very busy."

"What about Mr. Warweave? Can I see him?"

"Well—" the girl pursed her lips, bent her head over an ap-
pointment panel. "He's busy until three, and then he keeps an open
hour, for students or persons without appointments."

"That would suit me very well."

"If you'd care to leave your name," said the girl demurely, "I'll
put it at the head of the list. Then you won't have to wait, in case

there are lots of others."

Gersen was startled by her solicitude. He searched her face,
and was further surprised to find her smiling at him. "That's very
kind of you. My name is Kirth Gersen."

He watched her write. She seemed in no hurry to terminate
the conversation. He asked, "What does an Honorary Provost do?

What are his duties?"

She shrugged- "I don't know, really. He comes and goes. I think
he does just what he wants. Anyone who is rich does just what he

wants. Wait till I'm rich."

"One more thing," Gersen said. "Are you familiar with the

routine of the department?"

"Why yes, I should say so." The girl laughed. "In so far as

there is a routine."

"The recording filament of the monitor in a locater boat is

coded. You're aware of this?"

"So I have been told." The girl was definitely speaking to Ger-
sen as an individual, rather than a face on a screen. Gersen thought
her deliciously pretty, in spite of her rather extravagant hair style.
Definitely he had been in space too long. He kept his voice even
with an effort. "WTio unscrambles the filaments? WT-io is in charge

of the code?"

Again the girl was doubtful. "Mr. Detteras for one. Perhaps

Mr. Kelle."

THE STAR KING

73

"Can you find out definitely?"

The girl hesitated, examining Gersen's face. It was always wise
to refuse to answer questions whose motives she could not fathom;

still—where could be the harm? The man who inquired seemed
interesting: wistful and sad, so she thought, and a trifle mysterious;

and definitely not unattractive, in a hardbitten fashion. "I can ask
Mr. Detteras' secretary," she said brightly. "Will you wait?"

The screen dimmed, and a minute or two later brightened
again. The girl smiled back at Gersen, "I was right. Mr. Detteras,
Mr. Kelle, and Mr. Warweave—these are the only people who have
access to the decoding strip."

"I see. Mr. Detteras is Director of Exploration, Mr. Kelle is
Chairman of the Research Planning Committee, and Mr. War-
weave is—what?"

"Honorary Provost. They gave him the title when he endowed
the department with Grant 291. He's a very wealthy man, and very
interested in space exploration. He frequently goes Beyond. .. .
Have you ever been Beyond?"

"I've just returned."

She leaned forward, her face alive with interest. "Is it really as
wild and dangerous as everyone says?"

Gersen threw caution to the winds, with a bravado that startled
even himself. "Come out with me and see for yourself."

The girl did not appear unduly perturbed. But she shook her
head. "I'd be alarmed. I've been taught never to trust strange men
from the Beyond. You might be a slaver and sell me."

"Such things have happened," said Gersen dampened. "You're
probably safer where you are."

"Still," she said coquettishly, "who wants to be safe?"

Gersen hesitated, started to speak, stopped short. The girl
watched him with an expression of bland innocence. Well, why not?
he asked himself. His grandfather had been old and parched. . . .

"In that case—if you're willing to risk it—perhaps you'd spend
the evening with me."

"For what purpose?" The girl was suddenly demure. "Slavery?"

"No. Just—the usual. Whatever you'd like to do."

"This is very abrupt. After all, I haven't even seen you face to
face."

"Yes, you're right," said Gersen once more abashed. "I'm not
very gallant."

74

•HIE DKMON PRINCES

"And still, what could be the harm? I'm impulsive myself, or
so I've been told."

"I suppose it depends on circumstances."

"You're just in from Beyond," the girl said magnanimously. "So
I guess you can be excused."

"Then you'll do it?"

She pretended to consider. "Very well. I'll take a chance.
Where will I meet you?"

"I'll be out at three o'clock to see Mr. Warweave; we can make
arrangements then."

"I'm off duty at four. . . . You're sure you're not a slaver?"

"I'm not even a pirate."

"Rather an unenterprising sort, I'd say. . . . But I'm just as
pleased, until I know you a little better."

A wide sandy beach extended a hundred miles south of Avente,
around the entire concavity of Ard Hook. As far as Remo, and a
few miles beyond, villas built of glaring white coquina lined the
crest of the sandy bluffs which overlooked the ocean.

Gersen hired a car, a small surface slider, and skidded south
over the broad white turnpike,, the inevitable dust puffing up behind
him. For a space the road followed the shore. Sand dazzled under
the brilliant Rigel light; blue water under a collar of white foam
sparkled and rolled calmly7 up and down the sand, creating a sound
invariable on every wwld in every galaxy where surf meets shore.
The road presently climbed the bluffs; to the left spread sand dunes
overgrown with black and purple iron bush, punctuated by tall
white balloon flower, the inflated pod floating at the end of a long
stem. Other white villas looked forth from groves of cool green
deodars, native feathertree, hybrid palm.

Ahead the ground rose, and the sandy bluffs became a range of
low hills, presenting a steep face to the ocean. Remo occupied the
flat land at the foot of one of these hills. A pair of piers terminating
in high-domed casinos reached forth to create a harbor filled with
small boats. The university occupied the crest of the hill: a series
of low, flat-rooted structures connected by arcades.

Gersen -arrived at the campus parking area, lowered the slide
car, alighted. A slideway took him through a commemorative arch
into a wide mall, where he inquired directions from a student.

THE STAR KING

75

"The College of Galactic Morphology? Into the next quad, sir;

the building at the far corner."

Ruefully pondering the respectful "sir" from a man no more
than seven years his junior, Gersen walked to the end of the mall,
threading a many-voiced, many-costumed multitude of students.
He crossed the quadrangle, approached the building at the far cor-
ner. At the portal he paused, aware of an emotion strangely like
diffidence, or shyness, which had gradually been asserting itself dur-
ing the entire trip out to the university. He jeered at himself. Was
he a schoolboy, that the prospect of an evening with a strange girl
should give him tremors? And more remarkable, the emotion
seemed to take precedence over the basic goal ot his existence! He
shrugged, irritated and amused together, then entered the foyer.

At a desk a girl looked up, with an uncertainty Gersen identified
as equivalent to his own. She was smaller and more slender than
he had thought her to be, but by no means less appealing. "Mr.
Gersen?"

Gersen put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It occurs
to me that I don't know your name."

She relaxed a trifle. "Pallis Atwrode."

"That takes care of the formalities," said Gersen. "I hope that
our arrangement is still working?"

She nodded. "Unless you've changed your mind."

"No."

"I act far bolder than I actually am," said Pallis Atwrode. She
gave an embarrassed laugh. "I've simply decided to ignore my up-
bringing. My mother is a blue-stocking. Perhaps it's time I began
to overcompensate."

"You begin to alarm me," said Gersen. "I'm not very bold ei-
ther, and if I have to cope with overcompensation—"

"Not really formidable overcompensation. 1 won't become in-
toxicated, or pick a fight, or—" She stopped.

"Or?"

"Oh—just -or.' "

Gersen looked at his watch. "I'd better see Mr. Warweave."

"His offices are down that corridor. And Mr. Gersen—"

Gersen looked down into the upturned face. "Yes?"

"Today I told you something which it seems I shouldn't have.
About the code. It's supposed to be secret. Would you please not
mention it to Mr. Warweave? I'd get in trouble."

76

^ HE DEMON PRINCES

"I'll say nothing about it "

"Thank you."

He turned, went off down the corridor she had indicated The
floor was resilient black and gray tesserae, the walls and ceiling were
plastered white, devoid of decoration or relief except for the various
doors and identificators—these in various muted tones of maroon,
mauve, dark green, indigo

Three doors along the corridor Gersen came upon a free-
floating identificator of luminous blue letters, which read. GYLE
WARWEAVE, and below PROVOST

He paused, struck by the incongruity of Malagate the Woe in
such surroundings. Was there a break in his chain of reasoning5
The monitor was coded, registered to the university Hildemar
Dasce, Malagate's lieutenant, had sought possession of the filament,
which was useless without the decoder. Gyle Warweave, Detteras
and Kelle were the three men who had access to the decoder, one
of the three must be Malagate. So then which, Warweave, Detteras
or Kelle3 Conjecture without facts was useless, he must deal with
events as they occurred He stepped forward, the door slipped aside,
quick as a camera shutter, the identificator broke into individual
letters which scattered like frightened fish, to regroup after he had
passed

In the outer office a tall thin middle-aged woman with keen
unsympathetic gray eyes stood listening to an obviously unhappy
young man, shaking her head slowly, continually, as he spoke

"I'm sorry," she said finally, m a clear brittle voice, "these ar-
rangements are all made on a formal basis of student achievement.
I can't allow you to bother the provost with your complaints "

"WTiat is he there for, then5" shouted the young man. "He had
open office hours, why can't he listen to my side of the story?"

The woman shook her head "I'm sorry." She turned away
"Are you Mr Gersen5" she asked
Gersen came forward.
"Mr Warweave is expecting you, please go through that door "

Gersen went as directed Gyle Warweave, sitting at a desk, rose
to his feet as Gersen entered a tall handsome man, strong and fit
looking, of an age not immediately obvious—perhaps ten or fifteen
years older than Gersen His hair was a cushion of black curls
shaped close to his skull, his skin dye a conservative pale umber
His face was emphatically marked, the eyes narrow, deep-set, black

THE STAR KING

77

and brooding, the nose and chin harsh He saluted Gersen with a
measured courtesy "Mr Gersen, sit down, if you will I'm glad to
make your acquaintance."

"Thank you " Gersen looked about him. The room was larger
than the usual office, the desk occupying an unconventional posi-
tion by the left of the door, with the greater part of room beyond
Tall windows at the right overlooked the quadrangle, the opposite
wall was papered with hundreds of maps Mercator pro)ections of
many worlds The center of the room was empty, giving it the
semblance of a conference chamber from which the table had been
removed. At the far end, on a pedestal of polished wood, stood a
construction of stone and metal spires, the provenance of which
Gersen was ignorant He seated himself, returned his attention to
the man behind the desk

Gyle Warweave hardly conformed to Gersen's picture of the
typical university administrator This of course would well be true,
thought Gersen, if Warweave were Malagate Contradicting the
evidence of his conservative skin dye, Warweave wore a rich bright-
blue suit with a white sash, white leather greaves, pale blue sandals
garments which might be affected by a young buck of the Sailmaker
Beach district, north of Avente.    Gersen groped at an elusive fa-
miliarity, a tantalizing wisp of recollection, which fled completely
from view.

Warweave inspected Gersen \uth a similar frank curiosity, in
which there was a trace of condescension Gersen definitely was no
dandy He wore the neutral garments of a person either uninter-
ested m current modes or unaware of them His skin was undyed
(walking along the streets of Avente, Gersen had felt almost un-
dressed), his thick dark hair was cropped into an undistinguished
ruff

Warweave waited with attentive politeness Gersen said, "I'm
here, Mr. Warweave, in connection with a rather complex matter
My motives are beside the point, so I'll ask you to listen without
troubling about them "

Warweave nodded "Rather difficult, but I'll try "
"First of all, are you acquainted with Mr Lugo Teehalt5"
"No, I am not " The answer \\as immediate and decisive
"May I ask who has the responsibility for the university's space
exploration program5"

78

THE DEMON PRINCES

Warweave considered. "Do you refer to major expeditions,

shotgun surveys, or what in particular?"

"Whatever program makes use of locators in leased boats."
"Hm," said Warweave. He turned a quizzical look toward

Gersen. "By any chance, are you a locater in search of a post? If

so-

Gersen smiled politely. "No, I'm not after a job."

Warweave smiled in his turn, a quick humorless grimace. "No,
of course not. I'm inept in my judgments. For instance, your voice
tells me very little. You're not a native of the Concourse. If you
were of a different physiognomy I'd place you from Mizar's Third."

"During most of my youth I lived on Earth."

"Indeed?" Warweave raised his eyebrows in manufactured
astonishment. "Out here, you know, we think ofEarthmen in terms
of stereotypes: cultists, mystics, hypercivilized eptcenes, sinister old
men in Institute black, decadent aristocrats.. .."

"I claim no particular niche," said Gersen. "Incidentally, you
puzzle me no less than I puzzle you."

Warweave put on an expression of rueful whimsey. "Very well,
Mr. Gersen. You were asking about our policy in connection with
locators. First of all, we cooperate with a number of other institu-
tions in the Master Space Exploration Program. Secondly, there is
a small fund which may be drawn upon to expedite some special
project."

"That is Beneficial Grant 291?"

Warweave inclined his head in curt assent.

"Very odd," said Gersen.

"Odd? How so?"

"Lugo Teehalt was a locater. The monitor in his boat was char-
tered to Sea Province University, under Grant 291."

Warweave pursed his lips. "It's quite possible that Mr. Teehalt
might be working for one of the department heads on some special
project."

"The monitor was coded. That should narrow the possibilities."

Warweave pierced Gersen with a hard glance of black eyes. "If
I knew what you wanted to learn, I could answer more to the
point."

There was nothing to lose by telling at least part of the truth,
thought Gersen. If Gyle Warweave were Malagate, he would know

THE STAR KING 79

what had happened. If he were not, no harm could be done. "The
name Attel Malagate is familiar to you?"

"Malagate the Woe? One of the so-called Demon Princes."

"Lugo Teehalt located a world of apparently idyllic condi-
tions—a world literally beyond value, more Earthlike than Earth.
Malagate learned of the discovery, how I don't know. In any event,
at least four ofMalagate's men hunted Teehalt to Smade's Tavern.

"Teehalt arrived )ust after I did. He landed in a hidden valley
and walked to the tavern. During the evening Malagate's men ar-
rived. Teehalt tried to escape, but they caught him in the dark,
killed him. Then they took off in my ship, apparently assuming that
it was Teehalt's. Both were the same, old Model 9B." Gersen
laughed. "When they checked my monitor they had a sorry sur-
prise.

"The next day I left in Teehalt's boat. Naturally I took pos-
session of his monitor. I plan to sell the filament for as much as
the market will bear."

Warweave nodded briskly, moved a sheet of paper on his desk
an inch to the right. Gersen watched him, studying the immaculate
hands, the glossy fingernails. Looking up, he caught the stare of
Warweave's gaze, less affable than his tone of voice. "And from
whom do you propose to collect?"

Gersen shrugged. "I'll give Teehalt's sponsor the first oppor-
tunity. As I mentioned, the filament is coded, and is valueless with-
out the decoding strip."

Warweave leaned back in his chair. "Offhand I don't know who
might have contracted with this man Teehalt. Whoever it is natu-
rally would not buy a pig in a poke."

"Naturally not." Gersen placed a photograph on the desk.
Warweave glanced at it, dropped it into a projection slot- A screen
on the far wall burst into color. Teehalt had taken the picture from
a rise of ground to one side of a valley. On either hand hills rolled
back, over, away and beyond—the rounded tips could be seen re-
ceding into the distance. Groves of tall dark trees stood to the side
of the valley; a river wandered through the meadows, the banks
lined with rushes. At the far side of the meadow, almost in the shade
of the forest, stood what appeared to be a bank of flowering shrubs.
The sun could not be seen, but the sunlight was golden-white,
warm, languid, and the time was evidently noon.

Warweave studied the picture at length, then made a gruff non-

80

THE DEMON PRINCES

committal sound. Gersen provided another photograph; the screen
shifted to display the view down the valley: the river meandering
and twisting, finally disappearing into the far distance. Trees stand-
ing tall at either side formed a sort of aisle, diminishing until all
faded into haze.

Warweave heaved a sigh. "Beyond question a beautiful world.
A hospitable world. What of atmosphere and biogens?"

"Completely compatible, according to Teehalt."

"If it is as you say—undiscovered, uninhabited—an indepen-
dent locater could name his own price. Still, not being born yes-
terday, I wonder, could not this photograph have been made
elsewhere? Even on Earth, where the vegetation is similar to this?"

For answer, Gersen brought forth a third photograph. War-
weave dropped it into the slot. The screen depicted, as if from a
distance of twenty feet, one of the objects which in the first pho-
tograph had appeared as a flowering shrub. It was revealed as a
perambulatory being, semihumanoid, graceful. Slender gray legs
supported a gray, silver, blue, green torso; purple-green eyes looked
forth from a perfect ovoid head, which was otherwise featureless.
From the shoulders, armlike members reached three feet into the
air, branching and webbing, to support the peacock's tail fan of

fronds.

"The creature, whatever it is—"

"Teehalt called it a dryad."

"—certainly it is unique. I've never seen its like before. If the
picture is not faked—and I do not believe that it is—then the planet
is what you claim it to be."

"I claim nothing. Teehalt made the claims. It is a world—so
he told me—so beautiful that he could neither bear to stay nor bear

to leave."

"And you have Teehalt's filament in your possession."
"Yes. I want to sell it. The market is presumably limited to
those persons who have access to the decoding strip. Of these, the
man who sponsored Lugo Teehalt's operation should have the first

option."

Warweave gave Gersen a long steady inspection. "A quixotic

attitude, which puzzles me. You do not seem a quixotic man."
"Why not Judge from deeds rather than impressions?"
Warweave merely raised his eyebrows in something like dis-
dain. Then he said, "Conceivably I could make you an offer for the

THE STAR KING

81

filament: say two thousand SVU now, another ten thousand after
inspection of the world. Possibly a trifle more."

"Naturally I will take the best price 1 can get," said Gersen.
"But I would like to interview Mr. Kelle and Mr. Detteras first.
One of them must be Teehalt's sponsor. If neither is interested in
the filament, then—"

Warweave interrupted sharply. "WTiy do you specify these two
men?"

"Other than yourself, they are the only persons who have access
to the decoding strips."

"May I ask how you are aware of this?"

Remembering Pallis Atwrode's request, Gersen felt a pang of
guilt. "I asked a young man in the quadrangle. Apparently it's com-
mon knowledge."

"Altogether too much loose talk," said Warweave, his mouth
in a hard angry line.

Gersen wanted to inquire how Warweave had spent the pre-
vious month, but the occasion was clearly inopportune. It could not
be a wise question, if posed directly: if Warweave were Malagate,
his suspicion would instantly be reinforced.

Warweave now tapped fingers on his desk, rose to his feet. "If
you will give me half an hour I will ask Mr. Detteras and Mr. Kelle
to step into my office, and you can make your inquiry. Will that
be satisfactory?"

"No."

"No?" barked Warweave. "Why not?"

Gersen also rose to his feet. "Since the matter does not concern
you, I would prefer to interview Mr. Kelle and Mr. Detteras alone,
on my own terms."

"This is at your option," said Warweave coldly. He considered
a moment. "WTiat you are after, I can't guess. I put little faith in
your candor. But I will make a bargain with you."

Gersen waited.

"Kelle and Detteras are busy men," said Warweave. "They are
not as accessible as I am. I will arrange that you see them at once—
today, if you like. Possibly one or the other will admit to an ar-
rangement with Lugo Teehalt. In any case, after your interview
with Kelle and Detteras, you will report to me what offers, if any,
they have made, and so give me the opportunity of meeting or
exceeding the offer."

82

THF DEMON PRINCES

"In other words," said Gersen, "you'd keep this world for your
private use5"

"Why not5 The filament is no longer the property of the uni-
versity You have taken possession of it And, if the truth be known,
my money has gone to endow Grant 291 "

"That's reasonable enough "

"You agree to my bargain, then7"

"Yes So long as you understand that the first refusal goes to
Teehalt's sponsor "

Warweave's eyelids drooped, he inspected Gersen with a rather
cynical twist of the lips "I wonder why you insist on this."

"Perhaps I am a quixotic man after all, Mr. Warweave "

War-weave swung about, spoke into the desk screen, listened,
turned back to Gersen "Very well. Mr Kelle will see you first,
then Mr. Detteras After that you will report back to me."

"I agree "

"Good You will find Kelle's office at the opposite end of the
building "

Gersen went out into the corridor past Warweave's glint-eyed
secretary, returned to the foyer Pallis Atwrode looked up with an
eager expectancy Gersen found very appealing "Did you learn what
you wanted to5"

"No. He's sending me to see Kelle and Detteras."

"Today5"

"Right now."

She looked at him with new interest "You'd be surprised at
the people both Mr Kelle and Mr Detteras have refused to see
today."

Gersen grinned. "I don't know how long I'll be .. If you're
off duty at four—"

"I'll wait," said Palhs Atwrode, and then she laughed "I mean,
you won't be very much longer than four, and I'd have to walk
home, and explain where I live—it's )ust easier waiting "

"I'll be as fast as I can," said Gersen.

Deeming the unsubstantiated dogma of a locali/ed religious
cult to be an undignified and unsuitable base on which to
erect the chronology of galactic man, the members of this
convention hereby declare that time shall now be reckoned
from the year 2000 A D (Old System), which becomes the
year 0 The revolution ofFarth about Sol remains the stan-
dard annual unit

Declaration at the Oikumemcal Convention for the
Standardization of Units and Meters

"Everything of which we are conscious   has for us a
deeper meaning still, a final meaning And the one and only
means ot rendering this incomprehensible comprehensible
must be a kind of metaphysics which regards everything
whatsoever as having significance as a symbol."

Oswald Speng-ler

"Who are our basic enemies^ This is a secret, unknown
even to those basic enemies "

Xaviar Skolcamp, Over-Centennul Fellon ot the
Institute, indulgently, in response to a )ournahst's too-
searching question

Kagge Kelle was a small, compact man with a large, solid, well-
arranged head His skin was only faintly dyed, to a waxv bisque
pallor, he wore a severe costume of dark brown and purple His
eyes were clear and remote, his nose short and blunt, his mouth
prim, held firmly as if in compensation for its overfullness

84

THE DEMON PRINCES

Kelle seemed to make a virtue of inscrutability. He greeted
Gersen with austere courtesy, listened to his story without com-
ment, saw the photographs without perceptible show of interest.
Choosing his words with care, he said, "I am sorry that I cannot
help you. I did not sponsor Mr. Teehalt's expedition. I know noth-
ing about this man."

"In that case, will you allow me the use of the decoding strip?"

Kelle sat motionless for a moment. Then he said in an even
voice, "Unfortunately, this is contrary to the rules of the depart-
ment. I would encounter not a little criticism. Still. .. ." He picked
up the photographs, examined them once more. "This is beyond
question a world of interesting characteristics. What is its name?"

"I don't have that information, Mr. Kelle."

"I cannot conceive why you seek Teehalt's sponsor. Are you a
representative of the IPCC?"

"I am a private individual, though naturally I can't demonstrate

this."

Kelle was skeptical. "Everyone works to his own interests. If I
understood what you were trying to achieve, I could possibly act
with more flexibility."

"That is more or less what Mr. Warweave told me," said Ger-
sen.

Kelle turned on him a sharp look. "Neither Warweave nor my-
self are what might be called innocent men." He thought for a
moment, then said grudgingly, "On behalf of the department, I can
go so far as to make you an offer for the filament—though, as you
tell the story, it actually is the property of the department to begin
with."

Gersen nodded in full agreement. "That is exactly the point I
am trying to establish. Does the filament actually belong to the
university, or can I feel free to do as I like with it? If I could find
Lugo Teehalt's sponsor—or determine whether the sponsor actu-
ally exists—then any number of new possibilities would appear."

Kelle was not to be moved by Gersen's ingenuousness. "It is
an extraordinary situation ... As I say, I might be able to make you
an attractive offer for the filament—even as a private party, if that
would expedite matters. Although I would naturally insist on a prior
inspection of the planet."

"You know my qualms in the matter, Mr. Kelle."

Kelle's response was only a small incredulous smile. Once more

THE STAR KING

85

he studied the photographs. "These—er, dryads, I must say they
are creatures of considerable interest. . . . Well, I can help you to
this extent. I will consult university records for information regard-
ing Lugo Teehalt. But in exchange, I would like you to assure me
an opportunity to consider the purchase of this world, in the event
that you do not find the so-called 'sponsor.' "

Gersen could not restrain a mild gibe. "You gave me to un-
derstand that you weren't particularly interested."

"Your assumptions are of no consequence," said Kelle evenly.
"This should not injure your sensibilities, for you clearly are not
concerned as to my opinion of you. You approach me as if I were
mentally deficient, with a tale which would not impress a child."

Gersen shrugged. "The 'tale,' as it stands, is substantially ac-
curate. Naturally I haven't told you everything I know."

Kelle smiled again, rather more generously. "Well, let's see
what the records have to tell us." He spoke into the microphone.
"Confidential Information. Authority of Kagge Kelle."

The nonhuman voice of the information bank responded.
"Confidential Information, ready."

"The file on Lugo Teehalt." He spelled out the name.

There was a series of subdued mutterings, a quiet eerie whis-
tling. The voice spoke once more, reading off the information it
had gathered. "Lugo Teehalt: his file. Contents: Application for
admission, verification and appended comment. April 3, 1480."

"Pass," said Kelle.

"Application for admission to advanced regimen, verification
and appended comment. July 2, 1485."

"Pass."

"Thesis for degree in College of Symbology: title: 'The Mean-
ingful Elements in the Eye Motion of the Tunkers of Mizar Six.'
December 20, 1489."

"Pass."

"Application for post as associate instructor, verification and
comment. March 15. 1490."

"Discharge of Lugo Teehalt, associate instructor, for conduct
prejudicial to morale of student corpus. October 19, 1492."

"Pass."

"Contract between Lugo Teehalt and Department of Galactic
Morphology, January 6, 1521."

86 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen exhaled a small sigh at the relaxation of tension of
whose existence he had barely been aware. It was definite:

Lugo Teehalt had been employed as locater by someone within
the department.

"Quote in resume," Kelle ordered.

"Lugo Teehalt and Department of Galactic Morphology agree
and covenant to the following: Department will furnish Teehalt a
suitable space vessel, provisioned, equipped, found in typical and
useful manner, in order that Teehalt shall conduct, as agent of de-
partment, assiduous exploration of certain areas of galaxy. Depart-
ment advances Teehalt sum of five thousand SVU and guarantees
a bonus of graduated values for degrees of successful exploration.
Teehalt agrees to devote best efforts to successful pursuit of explo-
ration, to preserve results of said exploration secure and secret from
all persons, groups, and agencies other than those authorized by
Department. Signatures: Lugo Teehalt for Lugo Teehalt; Ominah
Bazerman for department.

"No further information."

"Mmf," said Kagge Kelle. He spoke to the screen. "Ominah
Bazerman."

A click, a voice spoke. "Ominah Bazerman, Chief Clerk."

"Kelle speaking. Two years ago a certain Lugo Teehalt was
despatched as a locater. You signed his contract. Do you remember
the circumstances?"

There was a moment's silence. "No, Mr. Kelle, I can't say that
I do. The contract probably came to me in a set of other papers."

"You don't remember who would have initiated this contract,
who sponsored this particular exploration?"

"No, sir. It must have been either yourself, or Mr. Detteras, or
perhaps Mr. Warweave. No one else would order out such an ex-
ploration."

"I see. Thank you." Kelle turned to Gersen, his eyes mild,
almost bovine. "And there you have it. If it wasn't Warweave, it
must be Detteras. As a matter of fact Detteras is former Dean of
the College of Symbology. Perhaps he and Teehalt were acquain-

^i

tances. ...

Rundle Detteras, Director of Exploration, seemed a man com-
pletely at his ease—at peace with himself, his job, the world at large.
When Gersen entered his office, Detteras held up his hand in easy

THE STAR KING

87

salute. He was a large man, surprisingly ugly for this age when a
pointed nose or an overloose mouth could be repaired in a matter
of hours. He had made no attempt to camouflage his ugliness; in-
deed, it seemed as if his rather harsh blue-green skin dye, almost
the color of verdigris, accentuated the coarseness of his features,
the rather gauche brusqueness of his motions. His head was the
shape of a gourd; the heavy chin rested on his breast with no per-
ceptible intervention of neck, the hair was a bristle dyed the color
of wet moss. From knee to shoulder he seemed of uniform thick-
ness, with a torso like a log. He wore the quasimilitary uniform of
a Baron of the Order of Archangels: black boots, loose scarlet
breeches, and a splendid blouse striped green, blue and scarlet, with
gold epaulettes and filigreed breast plates. Rundle Detteras was of
sufficient presence to command both the uniform and his odd phys-
iognomy; a man with the slightest dubiety or self-consciousness
would instantly have seemed eccentric.

"Well, well, Mr. Gersen," said Detteras, "is it too early for a
taste of arrack?"

"I'm out of bed."

Detteras stared in brief puzzlement, then laughed heartily. "Ex-
cellent! This is when I usually hoist the hospitality flag. Tint, tang,
or white?"

"White, please."

Detteras poured from the tall slender flask. He raised his glass:

"Detteras au pouvoir!" and drank with gusto. "First of the day, like
a visit home to mother." He poured himself a second tot, settled
back, turned upon Gersen a glance of leisurely appraisal, Gersen
asked himself, which one: Warweave? Kelle? Detteras? One of
these exteriors hid the ferocious soul of Attel Malagate the Woe.
Warweave? Kelle? Detteras? Gersen had inclined toward War-
weave; now he was once more dubious. Detteras had undeniable
force, a rude, harsh-textured energy, almost palpable.

Detteras apparently felt no urgency about coming to grips with
Gersen's business, for all the reputed press of his affairs. It was not
unlikely that he and Warweave had been in communication, and
possibly Kelle likewise. "A never-ending puzzle," said Detteras,
rather pompously. "The modes of why and how men differ."

If Detteras were in no hurry, thought Gersen, neither was he.
"No doubt you're right," he said, "although I don't understand the
immediate relevance."

88

THE DEMON PRINCES

Detteras laughed; a heavy booming sound. "Quite as it should
be; I would be surprised if you professed otherwise." He held up
his hand to forestall Gersen's response. "Presumption on my part?
No. Hear me out. You are a somber man, a pragmatic man. You
carry a heavy load of secrets and dark resolves."

Gersen sipped suspiciously at the arrack. The verbal pyrotech-
nics might be intended as a distraction, a device to diminish his
wariness. He concentrated on the arrack, senses keen for the
faintest off flavor. Detteras had poured both drinks from the same
flask; he had offered Gersen a choice of three distillations; he had
taken up glasses without seeming calculation. There existed, none-
theless, enormous scope for ruse, which no normal vigilance could
prevent. . . . The drink was innocent, so Gersen's tongue and nasal
passages, trained on Sarkovy, assured him. He focused his attention
upon Detteras and the previous remark.

"Your opinions regarding me are exaggerated."
Detteras grinned, a great gap-lipped grimace. "But nevertheless
essentially accurate?"
"Possibly."

Detteras nodded complacently, as if Gersen had given him the
most emphatic of corroborations. "It is a skill, or habit of obser-
vation, born of long years of study. I formerly specialized in Sym-
bology, until I decided that I'd cropped the pasture as short as my
teeth were long, and as far as my tether would reach. So here I am
in Galactic Morphology. A less complicated field, descriptive rather
than analytic, objective rather than humanistic. Still, I occasionally
find application for my previous field. Now is a case in point. You
come into my office, an utter stranger. I assess your overt symbolic
presentation: skin color; shape, condition, color of your hair; fea-
tures, clothes, your general style. You will say, this is common prac-
tice. I reply, true. Everyone eats, but a skilled taster is rare. I read
these symbols with minute exactitude, and they provide me with
information about your personality. I, on the other hand, deny sim-
ilar knowledge to you. How? I bedizen myself with random and
contradictory symbols, I am in constant camouflage, behind which
the real Rundle Detteras watches, as calm and cool as an impresario
at the hundredth performance of a glittering carnival extravaganza."

Gersen smiled. "My nature might be as flamboyant as your
symbols, and I might dissemble it for reasons similar to your own—
whatever they are. A second point: your presentation, if it can be

THE STAR KING

89

believed, illuminated you almost as clearly as the set of your natural
symbols. Third—why bother in the first place?"

Detteras seemed much amused. "Aha! You show me for the
fraud and charlatan I am! Still, I cannot avoid the conviction that
your symbols tell me more about you than mine do about me."

Gersen leaned back in his seat. "To little practical effect."

"Not so fast," exclaimed Detteras. "You occupy yourself exclu-
sively with positivity! Consider negativity for a moment. Some peo-
ple fret regarding the cryptic mannerisms of their colleagues. You
protest that the symbols tell you nothing of importance; you dismiss
them. These others worry because they cannot integrate a prolif-
eration of information." Gersen started to demur; Detteras held up
his hand. "Consider the Tunkers ofMizar Six. You are acquainted
with them? A religious sect."

"I heard them mentioned a few minutes ago."

"As I say," Detteras continued, "they are a religious group:

ascetic, austere, devout to an astonishing extreme. The men and
women dress identically, shave their heads, use-a language of eight
hundred and twelve words, eat identical meals at identical hours—
all this to protect themselves from the perplexity of wondering
about each other's motivations. True. This is the basic purpose of
the Tunker mode. And not too far from Mizar is Sirene, where for
a similar reason men wear highly conventionalized masks, from
birth to death. Their faces are their dearest secrets." He proffered
the arrack flask. Gersen held out his glass.

Detteras continued. "The practice here on Alphanor is more
complicated. We gird ourselves for offense and defense, or sheer
playfulness, with a thousand ambiguous symbols. The business of
living is enormously complicated; artificial tensions are established;

uncertainty and suspicion become normality."

"And in the process," suggested Gersen, "sensitivities are de-
veloped unknown to either the Tunkers or the Sirenese."

Detteras held up his hand. "Again, not so fast. I know a great
deal about both these peoples; insensitivity is a word which cannot
be applied to either. The Sirenese will detect the most remote nu-
ance of uneasiness when a man masks himself above his status. And ,
the Tunkers—I know less of them, but I believe that their personal
differentiations are as refined and varied as our own, if not more
so. I quote an analogous esthetic doctrine: the tighter the discipline
of an art form, the more subjective the criteria of taste. In another

90 THF- DEMON PRINCES

category, becoming ever more didactic, consider the Star Kings—
nonmen driven by their psyches to literally superhuman excellences.
They must enter the field cold, as it were, without even the human
racial unconscious as a matrix for their symbolic education. Re-
turning to Alphanor, it must be remembered that the folk thrust an
enormous amount of perfectly valid information at each other, as
well as ambiguities."

"Confusing," said Gersen dryly, "if one allows himself to be
distracted."

Detteras laughed quietly, evidently well pleased with himself.
"You've led a different life than I have, Mr. Gersen. On Alphanor
the issues aren't life and death; everyone is fairly sophisticated. It's
easier than not to accept people at their own valuation. Indeed, it's
often impractical not to do so." He looked sidelong at Gersen.
"Why do you smile?"

"It dawns upon me that the dossier on Kirth Gersen, requested
from the IPCC, is slow in arriving. In the meantime, you find it
impractical to accept me at my own valuation. Or even your own."

Detteras laughed in his turn. "You do both me and the IPCC
an injustice. The dossier came promptly, several minutes before
your arrival." He pointed to a photostat sheet on his desk. "I or-
dered the dossier, incidentally, in my role as a responsible officer
of the Institution. I think I can make a case for my caution."

"What did you learn?" asked Gersen. "I haven't seen the dos-
sier recently."

"It's marvelously blank." He picked up the paper. "You were
born in 1490: where? Not on one of the major worlds. At the age
of ten you registered into Galileo Spaceport on Earth, in the com-
pany of your grandfather, whose antecedents perhaps we should
likewise check. You attended the usual schools, were accepted by
the Institute as a catechumen, reached the eleventh phase at the
age of twenty-four (quite respectable progress), when you withdrew.
From now on there is no record, suggesting that either you re-
mained permanently on Earth, or departed illegally, without reg-
istration. Since you now sit before me, the latter seems to have
been the case. Remarkable," said Detteras, "that a person could live
to your age in a society as complex as the Oikumene with no small
impingement upon the official record! Long years of silence while
you were occupied where? How? To what purpose, and to what
effect?" He glanced questioningly at Gersen.

THE STAR KING 91

"If it's not there," said Gersen, "I don't want it there."

"Naturally. There is very little more." He tossed down the dos-
sier. "Now you are anxious to make your inquiries. I will anticipate
you. I knew Lugo Teehalt, far back indeed, in my undergraduate
days. He involved himself in some sort of unsavory mess and
dropped from sight. A year or so ago he came to me, asking for a
locator's contract."

Gersen stared at him, fascinated. So here was Malagate! "And
you sent him out?"

"I chose not to do so. I did not want him dependent upon me
for the rest of his life. I was willing to help him, but not on a
personal basis. I told him to apply either to the Honorary Provost,
Gyle War-weave, or the Chairman of the Research Planning Com-
mittee, Kagge Kelle; to mention my name, that very likely they
could assist him. This was the last I heard of him."

Gersen took a deep breath. Detteras spoke with the assurance
of truth. But which of them had not? Detteras at least had con-
firmed that one of the three—either himself, Warweave or Kelle—
was lying.

Which?

Today he had seen Artel Malagate, looked into his eyes, listened
to his voice. .. . He was suddenly uneasy. WTly was Deterras so
relaxed? Presumably a busy man, how could he spare so much time?
Gersen abruptly sat up in his chair. "I will get to the point of my
call upon you." He told the story he had already related to War-
weave and Kelle, while Detteras listened with a faint smile playing
over his coarse mouth. Gersen displayed the photographs and Det-
teras looked at them negligently.

"A beautiful world," said Detteras. "If I were wealthy I would
ask you to sell it to me to be my personal estate. I am not wealthy.
On the contrary. In any event, you seem not so much anxious to
sell your rights to this world as you do to locate poor old Teehalt's
sponsor."

Gersen was somewhat taken aback. "I'll sell to the sponsor for
a reasonable price."

Detteras smiled skeptically. "Sorry. I can't admit to a falsehood.
W^arweave or Kelle is your man."

"They deny it."

"Strange. So then?"

92

THE DEMON PRINCES

"The filament is useless to me in its present condition. Will
you furnish me the decoding strip?"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"I thought as much. So I must sell to one or the other of you,

or to the university. Or destroy the filament."

"Hm." Detteras judiciously nodded his head. "This demands
careful thought. If your demands were not excessive, I'd be inter-
ested. ... Or perhaps the three of us, in concert, could come to
some agreement with you. Hm. . . . Let me speak to Warweave and
Kelle. And then, if you can, come back tomorrow, say at ten. I
might have a definite proposition to put before you."

Gersen rose to his feet. "Very well. Tomorrow at ten."

"Yes, we are a reactionary, secretive, pessimistic organiza-
tion. We have agents everywhere. We know a thousand
tricks to discourage research, sabotage experiments, distort
data. Even in the Institute's own laboratories we proceed
with deliberation and discretion.

"But now let me answer some of the questions and ac-
cusations we often Jiear. Do the members of the Institute
enjoy wealth, privilege, power, freedom from the law? Hon-
esty compels the answer: Yes, in varying degree, depending
upon phase, achievement.

"Then the Institute is an inbred, restricted, centripetal
group? By no means. We consider ourselves an intellectual
elite, certainly. Why should we not? Membership is open
to anyone, although few of our catechumens achieve even
so far as the fifth phase.

"Our policy? Simple enough. Space drive has given a
terrible weapon to any megalomaniacs who happen to occur
in our midst. There is other knowledge which, if equally
free, could ensure them tyrannical power. We therefore
control the dissemination of knowledge.

"We are scathed as 'self-anointed divinities'; we are ac-
cused of pedantry, conspiracy, condescension, smugness, ar-
rogance, obstinate self-righteousness; these are the mildest
of the objurgations we hear. We are accused of intolerable
paternalism, and in the same breath reproached for disen-
gagement from ordinary human affairs. \Vhy do we not use
our lore to lighten toil, alleviate pain, prolong life? WTiy do

94

THP DEMON PRINCES

we stand aloof3 Why do we not transform the human estate
into a Utopia a task well within our power3

tk the answer is simple—perhaps deceptively so We
feel these are false boons, that peace and satiety are akin to
death For all its rawness and cruel excess, we envy archaic
humanity its ardent experience We hold that gain after toil,
triumph after adversity, achievement to a goal long sought,
is a greater beneficence than prebendary nutrient from the
teat of an indulgent government "

From the television address by Madian Carbuke,

Centennial (Hundredth Phase Fellow) of the Institute,

December 2, 1502

Conversation between two Centennials of the Institute,
in connection with a third not present

—"I would gladly come to your house for a chat, if I
did not suspect that Ramus were likewise invited "

—"But what is so wrong with Ramus3 He often amuses

me

-"He is a fungus, a flatulence, a pompous old toad,
and he irritates me vastly "

Question occasionally put to Fellows of the Institute:

Are Star Kings included among the fellowship3
The customary answer We certainly hope not

Motto of the Institute A little knowledge if a dangerous
thing, a great deal of knowledge is disaster, which detractors
of the Institute scornfully paraphrase to- Somebody else's ig-
norame is hlivs

Pallis Atwrode lived with two other girls in a seaside apartment
tower to the south of Remo. Gersen waited in the lobby while she
ran up to change clothes and retint her skin

He went out on the deck overlooking the ocean, leaned against
the rail Great blazing Rigel hung low over the ocean, laying a
molten road from shore to horizon Near at hand in the harbor,
enclosed by twin piers, a hundred boats were moored power yachts,
sailing catamarans, glass-hulled submarines, a shoal of jet-powered

THE STAR KI\G

95

aquaplanes, to be ridden at maniacal speed over, through, and
across the waves

Gersen's mood was complex, and puzzled even himself There
was the heart-bumping anticipation of an evening with a pretty girl,
a sensation he had not known for years There was the melancholy
normally induced by sunset—and now the sunset was beautiful in-
deed, the sky glowed mauve and green-blue around a green bank
of persimmon-orange clouds stranded with magenta. It was not the
beauty which brought on melancholy, mused Gersen, but rather
the quiet halcyon light and its fading    And there was another
melancholy—different yet somehow similar—which came to Ger-
sen as he watched the debonair folk about him They were all
graceful and easy, untouched by the toil and pain and terror that
existed on remote worlds Gersen envied them their detachment,
their social skills. Still, would he change places with any of them3
Hardly.

Pallis Atwrode came to )om him by the rail. She had tinted
herself a beautiful soft olive-green, with a subtle patina of gold, she
now wore her hair in a loose dark curly cap She laughed at Ger-
sen's obvious approval

"I feel like a wharf rat," said Gersen "I should have changed
into new clothes."

"Please don't worry," she said "It's completely unimportant.
Now What shall we do3"                    '

"You'll have to make suggestions "

"Very we\\ Let's go into Avente and sit on the esplanade I
never tire of watching people walk past Then we can decide what's
next "

Gersen acceded; they walked to the slide car and drove north,
Paths chattering with ingenuous candor about herself, her job, her
opinions, plans and hopes She was, so Gersen learned, a native of
Singhal Island, on the planet Ys Her parents were prosperous,
owning the only cold-storage warehouse of the Lantango Peninsula
WTien they retired to the Palmetto Islands, her oldest brother took
control of the warehouse and likewise the family home The brother
next older had wished to marry her, this form of union being coun-
tenanced on Ys, which had been settled originally by a group of
Reformed Rationalists The brother was stout, red-faced, arrogant,
without a trade other than driving the warehouse van, and the pros-
pect held no charm for Pallis

96

THE DF.MON PRINCES

At this point Pallis hesitated and her candor seemed to slip
gears, for she changed the subject. Gersen guessed at the dramatic
confrontations, fierce reproaches and countering accusations which
had taken place. Pallis had now lived in Avente for two years and,
though sometimes homesick for the sights and sounds of Ys, she
felt herself happy and lucky. Gersen, who had never known anyone

so artless, was charmed by her talk.

They parked the slider, walked out along the esplanade, selected
a table in front of one of the numerous cafes, and sat watching the
crowds stroll by. Beyond spread the dark ocean, with the sky now
plum and indigo-gray, with only the faintest tinge of lemon to mark

the passage of Rigel.

The night was warm; folk from all the worlds of the Oikumene
sauntered past. The waiter brought goblets of punch. Gersen sipped
and his tensions began to relax. Neither spoke for a period; then
Pallis suddenly turned to face him. "You're so silent, so guarded;

is it because you're in from Beyond?"

Gersen had no ready reply. Finally he gave a rueful laugh. "I
hoped you'd think me easy and suave, like everyone else. . . ."

"Oh come now," said Pallis teasingly. "Nobody's like everyone

else."

"I'm not altogether sure," said Gersen. "I suppose it's a matter

of relativity: how near you are. Even bacteria have individuality, if

they're examined closely enough."

"So now I'm a bacterium," said Pallis.

"Well, I'm another, and I'm probably boring you."

"No, no! Of course not! I'm enjoying myself."

"So am I. Too much. It's—enervating."

Pallis scented a compliment. "How do you mean?"

"I can't allow myself the luxury of emotional commitments—

even if I should like to."

"You're much, much, much too sober for a young man."

"I'm not young anymore."

She made a gay gesture. "But you admit you're sober!"
"I suppose so. But be careful, don't push me too far."
"A woman likes to think herself a temptress."
Again Gersen had no response. He studied Pallis across the
table; for the moment she seemed content to watch the passersby.
What a gay, warm-hearted creature, he thought, without a trace of
malice or acerbity.

THE STAR KING

97

Pallis turned her attention back to him. "You're really such a
quiet man," she told him. "Everyone else I know refuses to stop
talking, and I listen to continual floods of nonsense. I'm sure you
know hundreds of interesting things, and you refuse to tell me any
of them."

Gersen grinned. "They're probably less interesting than you
think."

"Still, I'd like to make sure. So tell me about the Beyond. Is
life really so dangerous?"

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends on whom you meet,
and why."

"But—perhaps you'd rather I didn't ask—what do you do?
You're not a pirate or a slaver?"

"Do I look like a pirate? Or a slaver?"

"You know that I don't know what a pirate or a slaver look
like! But I'm curious. Are you a—well, criminal? Not that it's nec-
essarily a disgrace," she added hastily. "Affairs which are perfectly
acceptable on one planet are absolutely taboo'on another. For in-
stance, I told one of my friends that all my life I'd planned to marry
my oldest brother—and her hair uncurled!"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Gersen, "but I'm not a crim-
inal. ... I don't fit into any category." He considered. There could
be no indiscretion in telling her what he had told Warweave, Kelle
and Detteras. "I've come to Avente for a particular purpose, natu-
rally—"

"Let's have dinner," said Pallis, "and you can tell me while we
eat."

"Where shall we go?"

"There's an exciting new restaurant, only just opened. Every-
one's talking about it and I've never been there." She jumped to
her feet, took his hand with an easy intimacy, pulled him upright.
He caught her under the arms, bent forward, but his daring waned;

he laughed and released her. She said archly, "You're more impul-
sive than you look."

Gersen grinned, half shamefacedly. "Well, where is the exciting
new restaurant?"

"Not far. We can walk. It's rather expensive, but I plan to pay
half the account."

"That's not necessary," said Gersen. "Money is no particular

98

TI IF, DEMON PRINCES

problem to a pirate. If I run short, I'll rob someone. You, per-
haps. . .."

"It's hardly worth the trouble. Come along, then." She took

his hand, and they walked north along the esplanade like any of the
thousand other couples abroad this fine Alphanor evening.

She led him to a kiosk circled by large luminous green letters
reading NAUTILUS. An escalator dropped them two hundred feet
into a tall octagonal lobby paneled with rattan screens. A major-
domo escorted them along a glass-vaulted tunnel, out upon the
floor of the sea. Dining rooms of various sizes opened off the pas-
sage, into one of which they were conducted, and seated at a table
close beside the sloping glass dome. The sea lay beyond, with bea-
cons illuminating the sand, rocks, seaweed, coral, the passing sub-
marine creatures.

"Now," said Pallis, leaning forward, "tell me about the Beyond.

And don't worry about alarming me, because I love an occasional

shudder. Or better, tell me about yourself."

"Smade's Tavern on Smade's Planet is a good place to start,"

said Gersen. "You've been there?"

"Of course not. But I've heard it mentioned."
"It's a small, barely habitable planet out in the middle of no-
where; all mountains, wind, thunderstorms, an ocean black as ink.
The tavern is the only building on the planet. Sometimes it's
crowded, sometimes there'll be no one but Smade and his family
for weeks on end. When I arrived the only other guest was a Star

King."

"A Star King? I thought they were always disguised as men."

"It's not a matter of disguise," said Gersen. "They are men.

Almost."

'T never have understood about the Star Kings. Just what are

they?"

Gersen shrugged. "You'll get a different answer every time you

ask. The general speculation goes like this. A million years ago,
more or less, the planet Lambda Grus III, or 'Ghnarumen'—you
have to cough through your nose to get it even approximately
right—was inhabited by a rather frightening assortment of crea-
tures. Among them was a small amphibious biped without any
particular tools for survival except awareness and an ability to hide
in the mud. He probably looked a little like a lizard, or a hairless
seal. . . . The species faced extinction half a dozen times, but a few

THE STAR KING

99

always managed to hang on, and somehow scavenge an existence
among creatures who were more savage, more cunning, more agile,
better swimmers, better climbers, even better scavengers than
themselves. The proto-Star Kings had only physical advantages:

self-consciousness, competitiveness, a desire to stay alive by any
means whatever."

"They sound rather like the proto-humans on ancient Earth,"
said Pallis.

"No one knows for sure: at least no men. What the Star Kings
know they're not telling. .. . These bipeds differed from proto-man
in several respects: first, they are biologically much more flexible,
able to transmit acquired characteristics. Second, they are not bi-
sexual. There is cross-fertilization by means of spores emitted on
the breath, but each individual is male and female at once, and the
young develop as pods in the armpits. Perhaps from this lack of
sexual differentiation the Star Kings have no natural physical vanity.
Their basic drive is the urge to outdo, to outfunction, to outsurvive.
The biological flexibility coupled to a rudimentary intelligence pro-
vided the means to implement their ambitions; they consciously
began to breed themselves into a creature which could outperform
their less resourceful competitors.

"This is all speculation, of course, and what follows is specu-
lation on an even more tenuous basis. But just let's assume that
some race able to traverse space visited Earth. It might have been
the people which left ruins on the Fomalhaut planets, or the Hex-
adelts, or whoever carved Monument Cliff on Xi Puppis X.

"We assume that such a space-traveling people came by Earth
a hundred thousand years ago. Assume that they captured a tribe
of Mousterian Neanderthals, and for some reason conveyed them
to Ghnarumen, world of the proto-Star Kings. Here is a challeng-
ing situation for both parties. The men are far more dangerous
opponents to the Star Kings than the now-defeated natural ene-
mies. The men are intelligent, patient, crafty, ruthless, aggressive.
Under pressure of the environment the men themselves evolve into
a different type: more agile, faster of body and mind than their
Neanderthal predecessors.

"The proto-Star Kings suffer setbacks, but they have their
hereditary patience, as well as important weapons: the competitive
urge, the biological flexibility. Men have proved superior to them-

100

THE. DEMON PRINCES

selves; to compete with men they shape themselves into human

semblance.

"The war continues, and the Star Kings admit, very guardedly,

that certain of their myths describe these wars.

"Another assumption now becomes necessary. About fifty thou-
sand years ago the space travelers return, and convey the evolved
Earthmen back to Earth, and perhaps a few Star Kings: who knows?
And so the Cro-Magnons appear in Europe.

"On their own planet the Star Kings are at last more manlike
than men, and prevail: the true men are destroyed, the Star Kings
are supreme and remain so until five hundred years ago. The men
of Earth discover the intersplit. When they chance upon 'Ghna-
rumen' they are astonished to find creatures exactly resembling
themselves: the Star Kings."

"It sounds far-fetched," said Pallis dubiously.
"Not as far-fetched as convergent evolution. It is a fact that
Star Kings exist: a race not antagonistic, but not friendly either.
Men are not allowed to visit 'Ghnarumen'—or however the name
is pronounced. The Star Kings tell us only as much about them-
selves as they care to, and they send observers—spies, if you like—
everywhere throughout the Oikumene. There are probably a dozen
Star Kings in Avente right now."

Pallis grimaced. "How can you tell them from men?"
"Sometimes even a doctor can't, after they finish disguising and
faking themselves. There are differences, of course. They have no
genital organs; their pubic region is blank. Their protoplasm, blood,
hormones have a different composition. Their breath has a distinc-
tive odor. But the spies, or whatever they are, are altered so that
even an X-ray shows the same as that of a man."

"How did you know the—the creature at Smade's Tavern was

a Star King?" '

"Smade told me."

"How did Smade know?"

Gersen shook his head. "I never thought to ask."

He sat silent, preoccupied with a new notion. There had been
three guests at Smade's Tavern: himself, Teehalt, and the Star
King. IfTristano were to he believed—and why not?—he had ar-
rived in company only with Dasce and Suthiro. If Uasce's statement
to Teehalt were to be credited, Attel Malagate must be reckoned

THE STAR KING 101

Teehalt's murderer. Gersen had certainly heard Teehak's scream
while Suthiro, Dasce and Tristano stood within his range of vision.

Unless Smade were Malagate, unless another ship had surrep-
titiously arrived—which were both unlikely—then Malagate and
the Star King must be one. Thinking back, Gersen recalled that
the Star King had left the dining hall in ample time to allow a
conference outside with Dasce. . . .

Pallis Atwrode lightly touched his cheek. "You were telling me
of Smade's Tavern."

"Yes," said Gersen. "So I was." He looked at her speculatively.
She must certainly know a great deal about the comings and goings
of Warweave, Kelle and Detteras. Pallis, misunderstanding the na-
ture of his gaze, flushed prettily under her pale-green skin toning.
Gersen laughed uneasily. "Back to Smade's Tavern." He described
the events of the evening.

Pallis listened with interest, almost forgetting to eat. "So now
you have Lugo Teehalt's filament and the university has the de-
coder."

"Correct. And neither one is valuable without the other."

They finished dinner; Gersen, with no credit account on Al-
phanor, paid the bill in cash. They returned to the surface. "Now
what would you like?"

"I don't care," said Pallis. "Let's go back along the esplanade
to a table, for a while, anyway."

The night was now dark: the moonless black-velvet night of
Alphanor. The facade of every building at the back of the esplanade
glowed faintly, blue or green or pink; the pavement gave off a silver
effulgence; the balustrade emitted a pleasant, almost unseen amber-
beige radiance; everywhere was soft shadowless light, rich with
muted ghost color. Up in the dark sky stars floated, big, vague,
pale. A waiter brought coffee and liqueur; they settled back to watch
the passing crowds.

Pallis said in a reflective voice, "You're not telling me every-
thing."

"Of course not," said Gersen. "In fact. .. ." He paused, grap-
pling with a disturbing new thought. Attel Malagate might mistake
the nature of his interest in Pallis—especially if Malagate were a
Star King, sexless, unable to understand the male-female relation-
ship. "In fact," said Gersen in a bleak voice, "I really have no right
involving you in my troubles."

102

THE DEMON PRINCES

"I don't feel involved," said Pallis, stretching her arms lazily.
"And if I were, what of it? This is Avente on Alphanor, a civilized
city on a civilized planet."

Gersen gave a sardonic chuckle. "I told you that others were
interested in my planet. Well—these others are pirates and slavers
as depraved as your romantic heart could desire. . .. Have you ever
heard ofAttel Malagate?"

"Malagate the Woe? Yes."

Gersen resisted the temptation of telling her that she took mes-
sages and ran errands daily for Malagate. "It's almost certain," he
said, "that stick-tights are watching us. Now. This very minute. And
the other end of the circuit is possibly Malagate himself."

Pallis moved uneasily, scanned the sky. "Do you mean that
Malagate is watching me? That's a creepy feeling."

Gersen looked to right, to left, then stared. Two tables away
sat Suthiro, the Sarkoy venefice. Gersen felt a sinking at the pit of
his stomach. Meeting Gersen's eye, Suthiro nodded politely, smiled.
He rose to his feet, sauntered to the table.

"Good evening, Mr. Gersen."

"Good evening," said Gersen.

"May I join you?"

"I'd prefer not."

Suthiro laughed softly, seated himself, inclined his fox face to-
ward Pallis. "And this young lady—do you plan to introduce me?"

"You already know who she is."

"But she does not know me."

Gersen turned to Pallis. "Here you see Scop Suthiro, Master
Venence of Sarkovy. You expressed an interest in evil men; here
you have as completely evil a man as you're likely to meet."

Suthiro laughed in easy glee. "Mr. Gersen judiciously uses the
word 'likely.' Certain of my friends surpass me as grandly as I sur-
pass you. I hope indeed that you do not meet them. Hildemar
Dasce, for instance, who boasts of his ability to paralyze dogs with
a glance."

Pallis' voice was troubled: "I'd just as soon not meet him." She
stared at Suthiro in fascination. "You really—admit that you're
evil?"

Suthiro laughed once more, a subtle muffled sound. "I am a
man; I am a Sarkoy."

Gersen said, "I've just been describing our encounter at

THE STAR KING

103

Smade's Tavern to Miss Atwrode. Tell me something: Who killed

Lugo Teehalt?"

Suthiro seemed surprised. "Who else but Malagate? We three

sat within. Does it make any difference? It might as easily have

been myself or Beauty or Tristano. .. . Tristano, by the way, is

quite ill. He suffered a dreadful accident, but hopes to see you on

his recovery."

"He can consider himself lucky," said Gersen.
"He is ashamed," said Suthiro. "He thinks himself skillful. I

have told him he is not so skillful as I. Now perhaps he will believe

it.

"Speaking of skill," said Gersen, "can you do the paper trick?"

Suthiro cocked his head sidewise. "Yes, of course. Where did
you learn of the paper trick?"

"At Kalvaing."

"And what wrought you at Kalvaing?"

"A visit with Coudirou the venefice."

Suthiro pursed his heavy red lips. He wore a yellow skin tone;

his brown pelt was glossy and smooth with oil. "Coudirou is as wise
as any—but as for the paper trick. ..." Gersen handed him a nap-
kin. Suthiro suspended it from left thumb and forefinger, stroked
it lightly with his right hand. It fell to the table in five ribbons.

"Well done," said Gersen, and to Pallis: "His fingernails are
hardened, sharp as razors. Naturally he would waste no poison on
the paper, but each of his fingers is like the head of a serpent."

Suthiro made complacent acquiescence.

Gersen turned back to him. "WTiere is your friend Fancy
Dasce?"

"Not too far distant."

"Red face and all?"

Suthiro shook his head sadly at Dasce's poor taste in skin ton-
ing. "A very able, a very strange man. Have you ever wondered
about his face?"

"WTien I could bear to look at it."

"You are not my friend, you tricked me beautifully; neverthe-
less, I will warn you: never cross Fancy Dasce. Twenty years ago
he was thwarted in some small escapade. It was a matter of col-
lecting money from an obstinate man. Hildemar by chance found
himself at a disadvantage. He was knocked down and strapped hand
and foot. So his creditor had the poor taste to cleave poor Hilde-

104

THE DEMON PRINCES

mar's nose, and cut off his eyelids. . . . Hildemar eventually escaped
and now is known as Beauty- Dasce, or Fancy Dasce."

"How awful," muttered Pallis.

"Exactly." Suthiro's voice became contemptuous. "A year later
Hildemar allowed himself the luxury of capturing this man. He
conveyed him to a private place, where he lives to this day. And
occasionally Hildemar, remembering the outrage which cost him
his features, returns to this private place to remonstrate with the

man."

Pallis turned glazed eyes at Gersen. "These people are your

friends?"

"No. We are associated only through Lugo Teehalt." Suthiro

was looking along the esplanade. Gersen asked idly, "You and
Dasce and Tristano work together and train together as a team?"
"Often, though I for one prefer a singular scope."
"And Lugo Teehalt had the misfortune to blunder upon you at

Brinktown."

"He died quickly. Godogma takes all men. Is this misfortune?"

"One never likes to hasten Godogma."

"True." Suthiro inspected his strong agile hands. "Agreed." He
looked toward Pallis. "On Sarkovy we have a thousand popular
aphorisms to this effect."

"Who is Godogma?"

"The Great God of Destiny, who carries a flower and a flail,

and walks on wheels."

Gersen put on an air of studious concentration. "I will ask you
a question. You need not answer; in fact perhaps you do not know.
But I am puzzled: Why should Malagate, a Star King, so vehe-
mently desire this particular world?"

Suthiro shrugged. "That is a matter with which I have never
concerned myself. Apparently the world is valuable. I am paid. I kill
only when I must or when it profits me—so you see," he told Pallis
parenthetically, "I am not really so evil a man, am I now? Presently
I will return to Sarkovy and live out my days roaming the Goro-
bundur Steppe. Ah, now! There is the life! When I think of those
times to come, 1 wonder why I sit here now, beside this odious
wetness." He grimaced toward the sea, and rose to his feet. "It is
a presumption to advise you, but why not be sensible? You can
never defeat Malagate; therefore relinquish the filament."

Gersen thought for a moment, then said, "I will also presume,

THE STAR KING 105

in the same spirit which prompts you. My advice is this: Kill Hil-
demar Dasce the next moment you see him, or even before."

Suthiro knit his furry brown eyebrows in puzzlement, glanced
for the most fleeting instant upward.

Gersen continued. "There is a stick-tight watching us, although
I have not located it. Its microphone probably registers our con-
versation. Until you told me, I had no idea that the Star King at
Smade's Tavern was Malagate. I am interested. I do not think this
is common knowledge."

"Quiet!" hissed Suthiro, eyes blazing with sudden red wrath.

Gersen lowered his voice. "Hildemar Dasce quite possibly will
be asked to punish you. If you wish to forestall Godogma, if you
wish to take your wagon across Gorobundur Steppe—kill Dasce
and go."

Suthiro hissed something below his breath, jerked up his hand
as if to throw, then backed away, turned, melted into the crowd.

Pallis relaxed, slumped into her chair. In an uncertain voice she
said, "I'm not as adventurous as I supposed myself."

"I'm sorry," said Gersen, genuinely contrite. "I should never
have asked you out."

"No, no. I just can't accustom myself to that kind of talk, here
on the esplanade, in peaceful Avente. But I suppose I'm actually
enjoying it. If you're not a criminal, who or what are you?"

"Kirth Gersen."

"You must work for the IPCC."

"No."

"Then you must be on the Institute's Special Committee."

"I'm just Kirth Gersen, private individual." He rose to his feet.
"Let's walk for a bit."

They went north along the esplanade. To the left lay dark sea;

to the right the edifices glowing in various soft colors; and beyond,
the skyline of Avente: luminous spires against the black Alphanor
night.

Pallis presently took Gersen's arm. "Tell me, what if Malagate
is a Star King? What does that mean?"

"I've been wondering myself." Indeed, Gersen had been trying
to remember the look of the Star King. Had it been Warweave?
Kelle? Or Detteras? The lusterless black skin tone had blurred the
features; the striped coif had covered the hair. Gersen had an im-
pression that the Star King had been taller than Kelle, but not quite

106 TIIF. DEMON7 PRINCES

so tall as Warweave. But would even the black skin tone have cam-
ouflaged Detteras' rude rough features?

Pallis was speaking: "Will they really kill that man?"

Gersen glanced up to see if he could locate the stick-tight, with-
out success. "I don't know. He's useful. Incidentally. ..." Gersen
hesitated, wondering anew as to the ethics of involving Pallis in the
sordid affair, if only remotely.

"Incidentally what?"

"Nothing." For fear of the stick-right's microphone Gersen
dare not inquire as to the movements ofKelle, Detteras and War-
weave; Malagate so far had no reason to suspect his interest.

Pallis said in an injured voice, "I still don't understand how all
of this affects you."

Once more Gersen chose to be discreet. The stick-tight might
hear; Pallis Atwrode herself might be an agent of Malagate's,
though Gersen considered this unlikely. So he said, "Not at all—
except in the abstract."

"But any of these people"—she nodded at the passersby—"they
might be Star Kings. How could we separate them from men?"

"It's hard. On their home planet—I won't attempt to pro-
nounce it—they come in many approximations to man. Those who
travel the known worlds as observers—spies, if you prefer, although
I can't imagine what they hope to learn—they're almost exact fac-
similes of true men."

Pallis suddenly seemed subdued. She opened her mouth to
speak, then closed it again, and finally gave a gay fling other hands.
"Let's forget about them. Nightmares. You have me seeing Star
Kings everywhere. Even at the university. ..."

Gersen looked down into her upturned face. "Do you know
what I'd like to do?"

She smiled provocatively. "No. What?"

"First I'd like to shake off the stick-tight, which is no great
problem. And then. . . ."

"And then?"

"I'd like to go somewhere quiet, where we could be alone."

She looked away. "I don't mind. There's a place down the coast.
Les Sirenes, it's called. I've never been there." She laughed in em-
barrassment. "But I've heard people talking."

Gersen took her arm. "First to shake off the stick-tight. . . ."

Pallis entered into the maneuvers with childlike abandon.

THE STAR KING

107

Looking into the merry face, Gersen wondered about his resolve
to avoid emotional involvements. If they went to Les Sirenes, if the
night brought them to closer intimacy, what then? Gersen thrust
aside his qualms. He could cope with problems as they arose.

The stick-tight, if it had existed, was confounded and lost; they
returned to the parking area. There was little light; the ranked
round shapes glimmered with silky dull highlights.

They came to the slide car; Gersen hesitated, then put his arms
around the swaying girl, kissed her upturned face.

Behind him was the loom of movement; ahead a furtive shifting.
Gersen turned, in time to look into a horrid bloodred face with
poisonous blue cheeks. Hildemar Dasce's arm descended; a great
weight curled over Gersen's head; lightning exploded inside his
skull. He tottered and fell to his knees. Dasce leaned over him.
Gersen tried to dodge. The world reeled and toppled; he saw Su-
thiro grinning like a sick hyena, with his hand to the girl's neck.
Dasce struck again, and the world went dim, Gersen had time for
an instant of bitter self-reproach, before another thunderous buffet
extinguished his consciousness.

Excerpt from "When Is a Man Not a Man," by Podd
Hachinsky, article in Cosmopolis, June, 1500;

... As men have traveled from star to star they have
encountered many forms of life, intelligent and nonintelli-
gent (to emphasize a perfectly arbitrary and possibly an-
thropomorphic parameter). No more than half a dozen of
these life forms merit the adjective "humanoid." Of these
half dozen, a single species closely resembles man: the Star
Kings of Ghnarumen.

Ever since our initial astounded contact with the race,
the question has recurred: Are they of the family of man—
the "bifurcate, bibrachiate, monocephaloid, polygamtte/' as
Tallier Chantron waggishly puts it—or are they not? The
answer, of course, depends on definitions.

One point can instantly be settled: the Star Kings are
not homo sapiens. But if what is meant is a creature which
can talk a human language, walk into a haberdashery and
dress himself off a rack, play an excellent game of tennis,
or fight a bout of chess, attend the regal functions of Stock-
holm or the lawn fetes of Strylvania without occasioning a
lift of autocratic eyebrow—then that creature is a man.

Man or not man, the typical Star King is a courteous,
even-tempered fellow, even if suspicious and humorless. Do
him a favor and he will thank you, but feel no obligation;

injure him and he will explode in tigerish fury and kill
you—if he is in a situation where human law cannot restrain
him. If such action will cause legal trouble, he will instantly

THE STAR KING

dismiss the injury and hold no grudge. He is ruthless but
not cruel, and is puzzled by such perverse human manifes-
tations as sadism, masochism, religious fervor, flagellation,
suicide. On the other hand, he will demonstrate a whole
battery of peculiar habits and attitudes no less inexplicable
from our point of view, arising from the twists and quirks
of his own psyche.

To say that his origin is in dispute is like a remark to
the effect that Croesus was well off. At least a dozen the-
ories to explain the remarkable similarity between Star King
and Man exist: none completely convincing. If the Star
Kings themselves know, they will admit nothing. Since they
bar all anthropological and archaeological research teams
from their planet, we are afforded neither verification nor
refutal of any of these theories.                 /

On human planets they punctiliously model their con-
duct after the best human examples, but their innate be-
havior patterns are unique to the race. Perhaps to
oversimplify, one can say that their dominant trait is a pas-
sion to excel, to outdo a competitor at his own game. Since
man is the dominant creature of the Oikumene, the Star
Kings accept him as a cynosure, a champion to be chal-
lenged and outdone, and so they strive to outdo man in
every aspect of the human capacity. If this ambition (at
which they are often successful) seems unreal and artificial
to us, no less so does our sexual drive seem to them; for
the Star Kings are parthenogenetic, reproducing in a man-
ner which is beyond the scope of this article to describe.
Knowing nothing of vanity, setting no store by either
beauty or ugliness, they strive for physical perfection only
to score points in their semi-amicable contest with true
men....

What of their achievements? They are fine builders,
daring engineers, excellent technicians. They are a prag-
matic race, not particularly apt at mathematics or the spec-
ulative sciences. It is hard to conceive of their giving birth
to a Jarnell, who discovered the space splitter by sheer ac-
cident. Their cities are impressive sights, rising from the
flatlands like a growth of metallic crystals. Each adult Star
King builds for himself a spire or tower. The more fervent

110

THE DEMON PRINCES

his ambition and the more exalted his rank, the higher and
more splendid his tower (which he seems to enjoy only as
a monument). Upon his demise the tower may be tempo-
rarily occupied by some junior individual during the period
in which he accumulates sufficient wealth to build his own
tower. Inspirational as the cities seem from a distance, they
lack the most obvious municipal utilities, and the areas be-
tween the towers are unpaved, dusty, littered. Factories, in-
dustrial plants, and the like are housed in low utilitarian
domes and manned by the least aggressive and least evolved
of the species—for the race is by no means homogeneous.
It is as if every human gathering included Proconsuls,
Pithecanthropi, sinanthropus giganticus, Neanderthals, Mag-
dalentans, Solutreans, Grimaldi, Cro-Magnon, and all the
races of Modern Man.

At midnight a group of young folk came laughing and singing into
the parking area. They had dined with unaccustomed amplitude at
The Halls; they had visited Llanfelfair, Lost Star Inn, Haluce, the
Casino Plageale; they were intoxicated, but as much by exuberance
as by the wines, smokes, perfusions, subliminal whirligigs, chants,
voltes and other exaltments purveyed by the houses which they had
visited. The youth who stumbled over Gersen's body uttered first
a jocular malediction, then an exclamation of shocked concern. The
group gathered; one ran to his vehicle, pressed the emergency call
button; two minutes later a police craft dropped down from the sky,
and shortly afterward an ambulance.

Gersen was conveyed to a hospital, where he was treated for
concussion and shock with appropriate irradiation, massage and vi-
talizing medicines. He presently returned to consciousness, and for
a moment lay thinking. Then he gave a sudden lurch and tried to
rise from the bed. The attending interns cautioned him, but Ger-
sen, paying no heed, struggled erect and stood swaying.
"My clothes!" he croaked. "Give me my clothes!"
"They're safe in the closet, sir. Relax, recline, if you please.
Here is the police officer, who will take your evidence."

Gersen lay back, sick with apprehension. The police investi-
gator approached: a keen-faced young man wearing the yellow-
brown jacket and black breeches of the Sea Province Constabulary.

THE SJ'AR KING 111

He addressed himself to Gersen politely, seated himself, opened
the flap of the recorder lens.

"Now, sir, what happened?"

"I was out for the evening with a young woman, Miss Pallis
Atwrode of Remo. When we came back to the car, I was slugged,
and I don't know what happened to Miss Atwrode. The last thing
I remember, she was struggling to escape from one of the men."

"There were how many?"

"Two. I recognized them. Their names are Hildemar Dasce
and a man I know only as Suthiro, a Sarkoy. Both are notorious
men Beyond."

"I see. The young lady's name and address?"

"Pallis Atwrode, Merioneth Apartments, Remo."

"We'll check at once to make sure she hasn't arrived home.
Now, Mr. Gersen, let's go over this again."

In a dull voice Gersen gave a detailed account of the attack,
described Hildemar Dasce and Suthiro. As he spoke, a report came
in from Constabulary Control: Pallis Atwrode had not returned to
her apartment. Roads, airways and space terminals were under ob-
servation. The IPCC had been called into the case.

"Now, sir," said the investigator in a neutral voice, "may I in-
quire your business?"

"I am a locater."

"What is the nature of your association with these two men?"

"None. I saw them at work once before, on Smade's Planet.
Apparently they regard me as an enemy. I believe that they are part
ofAttel Malagate's organization."

"Very strange that they should commit an actionable offense
so brazenly. In fact, why did they not kill you?"

"I don't know." Gersen once more staggered to his feet. The
investigator watched with professional attentiveness. "What are
your plans, Mr. Gersen?"

"I want to find Pallis Atwrode."

"Understandable, sir. But best that you do not interfere. The
police are more effective than a single man. We should have news
for you at any time."

"I don't think so," said Gersen. "By now they're in space."

The investigator, rising to his feet, made tacit admission that
such was the case. "We will naturally keep you informed." He
bowed, departed.

112

THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen immediately dressed, with the disapproving help of an
orderly. His knees were weak; his head floated in a kind of gener-
alized all-embracing pain; there was a faint singing in his ears from

the drugs.

An elevator dropped him directly to a subway station; Gersen
stood on an exchange platform, straining to formulate a coherent
plan of action. A phrase kept repeating itself compulsively, like an
inchworm traversing the inner surface of his skull: Poor Pallis, poor

Pallis.

With no better plan in mind, he stepped into a capsule and sent
himself to a station under the Esplanade. He emerged, but instead
of going to the car, took a seat in a brasserie and drank coffee. "By
now she's in space," he told himself once more. "And it's my fault.
My fault." Because he should have foreseen this sort of outcome.
Pallis Atwrode knew Warweave, Kelle and Detteras well; she saw
them daily, heard whatever gossip there was to be heard. Malagate
the Star King, Malagate the Woe, was one of three men, and Pallis
Atwrode evidently had knowledge which, coupled to Suthiro's in-
discretions, made Malagate's incognito insecure. Hence she must
be removed. Killed? Sold into slavery? Taken by Dasce for his per-
sonal use? Poor Pallis, poor Pallis!

Gersen looked out over the ocean. A rim of lavender was form-
ing at the horizon, presaging dawn. The stars were fading.

"I've got to face up to it," Gersen told himself. "It's my re-
sponsibility, If she is harmed—but no. I'll kill Hildemar Dasce in
any event. . . ." Suthiro, treacherous, fox-faced Suthiro was already
as good as dead. And there was Malagate himself, the architect of
the entire evil construction. As a Star King he somehow seemed
less hateful: a dire beast, which might be expunged without emo-


tion.

Surfeited with hate and grief and misery, Gersen went to the
car in the now empty parking area. There was the spot where Dasce
had stood. There, where he had lain unconscious—what a wretched
careless fool! How the spirit of his grandfather must writhe in

shame!

He started the car, returned to his hotel. There were no mes-
sages.

Dawn had come to Avente. Rigel threw wide horizontal fans of
light between the distant Catiline Hills and a darkling bank of

THE STAR KING

113

clouds. Gersen set the alarm dial, dosed himself with a two-hour
soporific, threw himself down on the bed.

He awoke to gloom and depression even more intense than
before. Time had passed; whatever had been in store for Pallis At-
wrode was now fact. Gersen ordered coffee; he could not bring
himself to eat-

He considered what he must do. The IPCC? He would be
forced to tell everything he knew. Could the IPCC act more effi-
ciently if he laid his information before them? He could tell them
that he suspected an administrator of the Sea Province University
to be one of the so-called Demon Princes. What then? The IPCC,
an elite police force, with the vices and virtues characteristic of such
an organization, might or might not be trustworthy. Star Kings had
possibly infiltrated the group: in that case Malagate would certainly
be warned. And how could the information help rescue Pallis At-
wrode? Hildemar Dasce was the kidnaper; Gersen had reported
this, and no information could be more explicit.

Another possibility: the exchange of Teehalt's world for Pallis
Atwrode. . .. Gersen would gladly accept the trade—but whom to
trade with? He still could not identify Malagate. The IPCC no
doubt would have means to detect him. Then what? The exchange
would no longer be conceivable. There might be a quiet execu-
tion—though the IPCC generally acted only upon the formal re-
quest of some authorized governmental agency. And in the
meantime, what of Pallis Atwrode? She would be lost—a small de-
lightful spark of life extinguished, forgotten.

But if Gersen knew Malagate's identity he would have vastly
more leverage. He could make his offer with assurance. The logic
of the situation seemed to be that Gersen proceed as before. But
how slow! Think of Pallis, poor Pallis! Nevertheless, Hildemar
Dasce had gone Beyond, and no effort of Gersen or of the IPCC
could avail against this hard fact. Artel Malagate alone had the
power to order his return. If Pallis Atwrode still lived.

The situation had not changed. As before, his first urgency was:

identify Malagate. Then: bargain, or extort.

With his course of action once more clear, Gersen's spirits
lifted. More accurately, his resolve and dedication burned at a fer-
vent new heat. Hate gave him a heady, almost drunken, sense of
omnipotence. No one, nothing, could withstand emotion so in-
tense!

114

THE DEMON PRINCES

The hour of his appointment with Detteras, Warweave and
Kelle was approaching. Gersen dressed, descended to the garage,
slid his car out upon the avenue and headed south.

Arriving at the university, he parked, rode the slideway to the
mall, crossed the quadrangle to the College of Galactic Morphol-
ogy. Hoping against hope, with a sudden quick jerking of the heart,
he looked toward the reception desk. A different girl was on duty.
He asked politely, "Where is Miss Atwrode this morning?"

"I don't know, sir. She hasn't arrived. Perhaps she's not feeling

well."

Perhaps indeed, thought Gersen. He mentioned his appoint-
ment and proceeded to the office of Rundle Detteras.

Warweave and Kelle were there before him. The three un-
doubtedly had reached a common decision, a common course of
action. Gersen looked from face to face, Detteras to Warweave to
Kelle. One of these creatures was human only in similitude. At
Smade's Tavern he had glimpsed him, and he tried to think back,
to visualize, to remember. No image came. Black-dyed skin and
exotic costume were a disguise beyond his penetration. Furtively he
assessed each. Which? Warweave: aquiline, cold-eyed, arrogant?
Kelle: precise, humorless, austere? Or Detteras, whose geniality
now seemed insincere and counterfeit?

He could not decide. He forced himself into a pose of studious
courtesy, and made his primary gambit. "Let's simplify the whole
matter," said Gersen. "I'll pay you—by this I naturally mean the
college—for the decoding strip. I imagine the college could use a
thousand SVU. In any event, that's the offer I wish to make."

His adversaries, each in his own style, seemed taken aback.
Warweave raised his brows, Kelle stared fixedly, Detteras put on a

puzzled half smile.

Warweave said, "But we understood that you intended to sell
what you conceived to be your interest in this matter."

"I don't mind selling," said Gersen. "If you'll offer me

enough."

"And how much is enough?"
"A million SVU, perhaps two, or perhaps three, if you'll go

that high."

Kelle snorted. Detteras shook his big ugly head.
"Fees of that sort are not paid to locaters," said Warweave.

THE STAR KING 115

"Has it been established which of you sent out Teehalt?" asked
Gersen.

"What does it matter?" asked Warweave. "Your interest in the
affair—money—has become clear enough." He looked from Kelle
to Detteras. "Whoever it is has either forgotten or does not care
to disclose himself. Doubtless that is the way the situation will re-


main.

Detteras said, "It's certainly inconsequential. Come now, Mr.
Gersen, we have decided to make you a joint offer—certainly not
as grandiose as the figure you name—"

"How much?"

"Possibly as much as 5,000 SVU."

"Ridiculous. This is an exceptional world."

"You do not know this," Warweave pointed out. "You have not
been there; or so you claim."

"More to the point," said Kelle dryly, "neither have we."

"You have seen the photographs," said Gersen.

"Exactly," said Kelle. "We have seen no -more. Photographs
can be faked without difficulty. I for one do not propose to pay out
a large sum on the strength of three photographs."

"Understandable," said Gersen. "But for my part I don't intend
to make a move without a guarantee. Don't forget I have suffered
a loss, and this is my opportunity to make it good."

"Be reasonable!" Detteras urged bluffly. "Without the decoder,
the filament is just another spool of wire."

"Not completely. Fourier analysis eventually can break the
code."

"In theory. It is a long expensive process."

"Not as expensive as giving the filament away for next to noth-

in^"

The discussion continued for an hour, Gersen gritting his teeth

in impatience. A price of 100,000 SVU, to be deposited in escrow,
was eventually arranged; the sale conditional upon a list of provisos
relating to the physical characteristics of the world in question.

Agreement having been reached, telescreen contact with the
Bureau of Deeds and Contracts at Avente was made. The four men
identified themselves formally, represented their interests; the con-
tract was read into the records.

A second call, to the Bank of Alphanor, established the escrow
account.

116 THE DEMON PRINCES

The three administrators now sat back and inspected Gersen,
who in his turn looked from one to the other. "So much is settled.
Which of you goes with me to inspect this world3"

The three exchanged glances. "I'll go," said Wat-weave. "I'll be
very much interested to go."

"I was about to volunteer my own services," said Detteras.

"In that case," said Kelle, "I might as well come along too. I'm
very much overdue for a change."

Gersen seethed m frustration He had expected Malagate—
whoever he might be—to volunteer his services; in fact, to assert
them. Gersen could then take this individual aside and offer a new
set of conditions: the filament for Pallis Atwrode. WTiat, after all,
was the world to him? His single goal was Malagate's identity, and
after that his life.

But now this plan had gone by the boards. If all three went out
to Teehalt's planet, the identification of Malagate must depend
upon new circumstances. Meanwhile the fate ofPalhs Atwrode bore
no thinking about.

Gersen made a last-ditch protest. "My boat is small for four.
Better if only one went out with me."

"No difficulty there," Detteras stated. "We will go out in the
departmental ship. Plenty of room aboard."

"Another matter," said Gersen gruffly. 'T have urgent business
I must see to in the near future. I am sorry to inconvenience you,
but I insist that we leave today "

There was vigorous and general protest: all three declared
themselves tied up for at least a week by engagements, appoint-
ments, and commitments.

Gersen put on a show of temper. "Gentlemen, you have wasted
enough of my time. We leave today, or I'll take the filament else-
where—or destroy it." He watched the three faces, hoping to sur-
prise Malagate in dismay. Warweave gave him a glance of metallic
dislike; Kelle examined him as if he were an insubordinate child;

Detteras shook his head ruefully. There was a moment of silence.
W^ho would be the first to agree, no matter how reluctantly, to the
conditions31

Warweave said in a colorless voice, "I consider that you are
taking a very arbitrary and high-handed position."

"Confound it," grumbled Detteras, "I can't simply ditch every-
thing m five minutes."

THE \TAR KI\G 117

"One of you should be able to tear yourself loose," Gersen
suggested hopefully. "We can make a preliminary survey—suffi-
cient so I can take my money and be off about mv business."

"Humph," grunted Detteras

Kelle said slowly, "I suppose that I would be able to go out."

W^arweave nodded "My engagements, with considerable in-
convenience, can be postponed "

Detteras threw his hands into the air, turned to the screen,
called his secretary. "Cancel all my appointments Urgent business
is taking me out of town."

"For how long, sir3"

"I don't know," said Detteras, with a hard glance for Gersen.
"Indefinitely"

Gersen continued his inspection of the three men. Detteras
alone had displayed irritation. Kelle obviously regarded the trip as
an unexpected outing, Warweave maintained a cool detachment.

So much for that particular ploy, thought Gersen He went to
stand by the door "W^e'll meet at the spaceport, agreed3 At—let
us say—seven o'clock. I will bring the filament; one of you must
bring the decoding strip."

The three acquiesced, and Gersen departed

Returning to Avente, Gersen pondered the future. What chal-
lenges would he face from these three men, one of whom was Attel
Malagate3 It would be foolhardy not to make preparations, to ar-
range safeguards this was the training imposed upon him by his
grandfather, a methodical man, who had labored diligently to dis-
cipline Gersen's innate tendency to rely upon improvisation.

At the hotel Gersen examined his belongings, and made certain
selections, then packed and checked out After painstaking precau-
tions against stick-tights and human trackers, he went to a branch
office of the Amalgamated Distribution Service, another of the
monster semipublic utility companies with agencies throughout the
Oikumene. In a booth he consulted catalogues which offered him
a choice of a million products produced by thousands of fabricators
Making his choice, he punched the requisite buttons, went to the
sen ice counter

There was a wait of three minutes, while automatic machinery
ranged the shel\es of the enormous underground warehouse, then
the mechanism Gersen had ordered appeared on a belt He exam-
ined it, paid the clerk, departed, and rode the subway to the space-

118 THE DEMON PRINCES

port. He inquired the location of the university ship from an
attendant, who took him out on a terrace and pointed down the
long line of spacecraft large and small, each in its bay.

"Notice, sir, the red and yellow yacht with side platform? Well,
count down three. First the CD 16, then the old Parabola, and then
the green and blue ship with the big observation dome. That's the
job. She's going out today, eh?"

"Yes. About seven. How did you know?"

"One of the crew is already aboard, I had to let him on."

"I see." Gersen went down to the field, walked along the way
which led past the ranked spacecraft. From the shadow of the ship
in the next bay, he inspected the university ship. The contours were
distinctive, as was the rather elaborate emblem at the bow. Recol-
lection stirred at the back of his mind: somewhere before he had
seen this ship. Where? At Smade's Planet on the landing field be-
tween mountains and black ocean. It was the ship used by the Star
King.

The shape of a man passed in front of one of the observation
windows. When he moved out of sight Gersen crossed the space
between the two ships.

Cautiously he tried the outer entry port; it eased ajar. He
stepped into the transition chamber, peered through the panel into
the ship's main saloon. Suthiro the Sarkoy worked at an object
which he apparently had attached to the underside of a shelf.

Inside Gersen something more ferocious than gladness—a pe-
culiar exaltation of hate—swelled and burst, suffusing his enure
body. He tried the inner portal; it was locked from within. There
was, however, an emergency disengagement which would unlock
the door if pressure were equalized between cabin and outer atmo-
sphere. Gersen touched the emergency switch. There was an au-
dible click. Within the ship, all was silent. Not daring to glance
through the panel, Gersen pressed his ear to the port. Useless: no
sound could pass through the laminated structure. He waited a min-
ute, then carefully eased himself up to look into the cabin once

more.

Suthiro had heard nothing. He had gone forward, and now
appeared to be adjusting the padding around a stanchion. His heavy
flat-skulled head was bent forward, his lips were pursed out.

Gersen slid back the port and stepped into the cabin, a projac
pointed at the big square buckle of Suthiro's steppe-rider harness.

THE STAR KfNG 119

"Skop Suthiro," said Gersen. "This is a pleasure for which I had
not dared hope."

Suthiro's dog-brown eyes opened and shut; he grinned broadly.
"I was waiting for your arrival."

"Indeed. And why?"

"I wanted to continue our discussion of last night."

"We were speaking of Godogma, the long-legged walker with
wheels on his feet. Plainly he has wheeled across the path of your
life, and you will never drive your wagon over the Gorobundur."

Suthiro became very still, his eyes measuring Gersen.

"What happened to the girl?" asked Gersen gently.

Suthiro considered, then rejected the feasibility of feigning in-
nocence. "She was taken by Fancy Dasce."

"With your connivance. Where is she now?"

Suthiro shrugged. "He had orders to kill her. Why, I don't
know. I am told very little. Dasce will not kill her. Not till he has
the full use of her. He is a khet.^ Suthiro sneered the epithet, a
metaphor linking Dasce to the obscenely fecund Sarkovy mink.

"He has left Alphanor?"

"Certainly." Suthiro seemed surprised at Gersen's naivete.
"Probably for his little planet." He made a fretful uncomfortable
motion, which brought him an imperceptible four inches closer to
Gersen.

"Where is this planet?"

"Ha! Do you think he would tell me? Or anyone else?"

"In that case—but I must ask you to stand back."

"Pah," whispered Suthiro in a childish display of petulance. "I
can poison you any time I choose."

Gersen allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. "I have already
poisoned you."

Suthiro raised his eyebrows. "When? You have never closed
with me."

"Last night. I touched you when I handed you paper. Look at
the back of your right hand."

Suthiro stared in slow horror at the red weal. "Cluthe!"

Gersen nodded. "Cluthe."

"But—why should you do this to me?"

"You merit such an end."

Suthiro launched himself like a leopard; the projector in Ger-
sen's hand discharged a stalk of blue-white energy. Suthiro fell to

THE. DEMON PRINCES

120

the deck, lay staring up at Gersen. "Better plasma than cluthe," he

whispered huskily.

"You'll die by cluthe," said Gersen.

Suthiro shook his head. "Not while I carry my poisons."

"Godogma calls you. So now speak truth. Do you hate Hilde-

mar Dasce?"

"I hate Dasce indeed." Suthiro seemed surprised, as if there

were anyone who did not hate Dasce.
"I would kill Dasce."
"Most people would do no less."
"Where is his planet?"
"Beyond. I know no more."
"When are you to see him next?"
"Never. I am dying, and Dasce is bound for a deeper hell than

mine."

"If you lived?"

"Never. I was to return to Sarkovy."

"Who knows of this planet?"

"Malagate .. . perhaps."

"Is there no one else? Tristano?"

"No. Dasce tells little. The world is airless." Suthiro carefully
hunched himself together. "Already the skin begins to itch."

"Listen, Suthiro. You hate Dasce. Yes? And you hate me, for I
have poisoned you. Think! You, a Sarkoy, poisoned by me, and so
easily."

Suthiro muttered, "I hate you indeed."

"Tell me how to find Dasce, then. One of us must kill the
other. The death will be your doing."

Suthiro rocked his furry head in desolation. "But I cannot tell
you what I do not know."

"What has he said of his world? Does he talk?"

"He boasts: Dasce is a vile braggart. His world is harsh; only a
man like himself could master this world. He lives in the crater of
a dead volcano."

"What of the sun?"

Suthiro hunched himself together. "It is dim. Yes. It must be
red. They asked Dasce about his face—in a tavern. Why had he
dyed himself red? To match his sun, said Dasce, which was the
same color, and not much larger.

"A red dwarf," mused Gersen.

THE STAR KI.\G 121

"So it might be."

"Think! What else? Which direction? Which constellation?
Which sector?"

"He says nothing. And now—I do not care. I think only of
Godogma. Go away so that I may kill myself decently."

Gersen surveyed the huddled form without emotion. "What are
you doing here in the ship?"

Suthiro looked at his hand curiously, then rubbed his chest. "I
feel it moving." He examined Gersen. "Well, then, since you would
look on my death: watch." He put hands to his neck, convulsed his
knuckles. The brown eyes stared. "In thirty seconds now."

"Who would know of Dasce's planet? Has he friends?"

"Friends?" Suthiro, even in his last seconds, took occasion to
sneer.

"Where does he lodge in Avente?"

"North of Sailmaker Beach. In an old hut on Melnoy Heights."

"Who is Malagate? What is his name?"

Suthiro spoke in a whisper. "A Star King has no name."

"What name does he use on Alphanor?"

The thick lips opened and closed. Words rattled in the pale
throat. "You killed me. Should Dasce fail, let Malagate kill you."
The eyelids Jerked, quivered. Suthiro lay back, seemed to stiffen,
made no further movement.

Gersen looked down at the body. He walked around behind it,
studied it. The Sarkoy were notoriously treacherous and revengeful.
With his toe he attempted to turn the body over on its face. Quick
as the strike of a serpent the arm flashed around, poison prongs
ready. Gersen jerked back; the projac ejected a second dazzling line
of energy. This time Suthiro the Sarkoy lay truly dead.

Gersen searched the corpse. In the pouch he found a sum of
money, w^ich he tucked into his own wallet. There was a kit of
poisons, which Gersen examined, then, unable to comprehend Su-
thiro's cryptic nomenclature, discarded; also a device no larger than
his thumb, intended to project crystalline needles of poison or virus
on a Jet of compressed air: a man could be infected from a distance
of fifty feet and know nothing save a faint tingle. Suthiro carried a
projac similar to his own, three stilettos, a packet of fruit lozenges,
undoubtedly lethal.

Gersen dropped the weapons back into Suthiro's pouch,
dragged the body to a waste ejection locker, and crammed it away

122 THE DEMON PRINCES

out of sight. Once in space, the touch of a button would dispose of
Sivij Suthiro the Sarkoy. Next he looked to discover what Suthiro,
while alive, had so earnestly been trying to achieve. Under the shelf
he found a small toggle switch controlling a set of wires which led
to a concealed relay, which in turn activated the valves on four
reservoirs of gas at various secret spots around the cabin. Death gas
or anaesthetic? He detached one of the reservoirs and found a label
printed in the crabbed Sarkoy syllabary: Tironvirasko^s Instantaneous
Narcoleptic, an odorless sleep inducent with minimal post redacts. It
seemed that Malagate, no less methodical than Gersen, was taking
his own precautions.

Gersen took each of the four reservoirs to the entry port, re-
leased their contents, replaced them where he had found them. He
left Suthiro's switch in place, but changed its function.

This accomplished, Gersen brought out his own device: the
timer he had purchased at Amalgamated, and a grenade from his
armament.

After a moment's reflection, he secured it inside the reactor
housing, where it would do maximum damage, and yet be conven-
ient in case of need.

He glanced at his watch: one o'clock. Time was growing short.
Far too short to accomplish all that must be done. He departed,
locking the ship behind him and, returning to the terminal, took
the subway for Sailmaker Beach.

At a stand beside the station Gersen selected a self-service cab—
a single-seat scooter, gyroscopically balanced, with a transparent
canopy. Two SVU in the slot gave him possession for an hour.
Stepping aboard, he drove north through the noisy streets of Sail-
maker Beach.

The district had a unique flavor. Avente, a suave cosmopolitan
city, was almost indistinguishable from fifty other polities of the
Oikumene. Sailmaker Beach resembled no other locale in the
known universe. The buildings were low, thick-walled, constructed
for the most part of crushed coquina concrete, white or color-
washed; in the blazing light of Rigel even pastels seemed intense.
For some reason lavender and pale blue, along with white, were the
most popular tints. The district was home to scores of off-world
nationalities, each forming an enclave, each with its characteristic
food shops, restaurants, specialty houses. Though widely disparate
of origin, habit and physiognomy, the inhabitants of the district

THE STAR KING 123

were uniformly voluble, half suspicious, half naive, contemptuous
of outsiders, equally contemptuous of each other. They earned their
living from tourists, as domestic servants or day laborers, as pro-
prietors of small shops and craft studios, as entertainers or musi-
cians in the innumerable taverns, bistros, bordellos, restaurants.

At the north rose Melnoy Heights, and here the architecture
changed to tall narrow apartment buildings, of almost Gothic elon-
gation, each seeming to peer over the other's shoulder, across Sail-
maker Beach to the more conventional districts. In Melnoy Heights
Hildemar Dasce reputedly had lodgings. As methodically as short-
ness of time and anxiety allowed, Gersen sought information re-
garding him.

There was no Hildemar Dasce listed in the Melnoy Heights
Directory—nor had Gersen expected to find one. Dasce undoubt-
edly would desire privacy, the pose of normality.

Gersen began to visit the taverns, describing the tall man with
the split nose, the red skin, the chalk-blue cheeks. He soon en-
countered folk who had noticed Dasce, but not until the fourth
tavern did he find anyone who had spoken with him.

"You must mean Beauty," said the bartender, a stubby orange-
skinned man, with russet hair arranged in fine glossy festoons and
curls. Gersen stared in fascination at the chain carved from tur-
quoise which looped from a hole in his left nostril to a hole in the
lobe of his left ear. "Beauty comes in often to drink. A spaceman,
he claims himself, but as to this I can't be certain. I have often
declared myself a great lover. All of us lie, as much or more than
necessary. 'What is truth?' asks Pons Pilarus, in the fable, and I
answer: 'A commodity as cheap as air which we hide as if it were
as precious as yewl stone,' " The bartender was disposed to further
philosophy; Gersen hauled him back to the issue at hand. "Where
does Beauty Dasce house himself?"

"Up the hill, up back." The bartender made a vague gesture.
"I can tell you no more, because I know no more."

Gersen rode his scooter up the steep lanes and switchbacks of
Melnoy Heights. Inquiry at another tavern, a tiresome series of
questions at various shops, lobbies and street corners, finally re-
sulted in explicit directions to Dasce's lodgings. Riding a little un-
paved road which left the area of tall apartments, Gersen circled a
steep rocky hillside, where gangs of children scrambled like goats.
At the end of the road stood an isolated rectangular cottage, rudely,

124

THE DEMON PRINCES

if substantially, constructed. It commanded a magnificent view over
the ocean; over Sailmaker Beach; the Grand Esplanade, dwindling
far to the south; and, only just perceptible through the haze, the

apartment towers of Remo.

Gersen approached the cottage with care, though it exuded the
indefinable but unmistakable feeling of vacancy. He walked around
peering through the windows, seeing nothing of interest. After a
quick glance to right and left, he broke in the sash of an incon-
spicuous window, and cautiously, in the event that Dasce had set
out mantraps, climbed into the cottage.

The house was strong with the feel of Dasce's habitancy: a
faintly acrid odor, together with an aura more subtle than odor, of
crudeness, dark, pompous, magnificent strength. There were four
rooms, encompassing the usual functions. Gersen made a quick
general investigation, then concentrated his attention upon the par-
lor. The ceiling was scrolled plaster, painted pale yellow. The floor
was covered by a carpet of greenish-yellow fiber, the walls were a
checkerboard of maroon and dark brown hardwood tiles. At the far
end Dasce had placed a desk and a heavy chair. The wall over the
desk was hung with dozens of photographs: Dasce in all poses,
against every variety of background.

There was Dasce in startling close-up, revealing every pore of
his skin, the split cartilage of his nose, the lidless blue eyes. There
was Dasce in the costume of a Bernal flame fighter—varnished
black plates and horns and cusps and prongs, like a titanic stag
beetle. There was Dasce in a palanquin of yellow rattan, hung with
persimmon silk, borne on the shoulders of six black-haired maidens.
The angle of the wall displayed a set of photographs of a man who
was not Dasce. Apparently they had been taken over a period of
years. The first showed the face of a man thirty years old: a sturdy,
confident, bulldog face, serene, even complacent. The face had
changed alarmingly in the second of the photographs. The cheeks
were sunken, the eyes started from their sockets, the nerves at the
temples showed in an intricate mesh. In each succeeding photo-
graph the face became ever more haggard... . Gersen glanced
along a row of books: pornography of a childishly obscene nature,
weapon manuals, an index to Sarkoy poisons, a late edition of Hand-
hook to the Planets, an index to Dasce's microbook library, a Star

Directory.

The desk itself was extremely handsome: side panels of dark

THE STAR KING

125

wood carved to represent griffins and winged serpents in a jungle;

the surface an exquisite inlay of opals polished flat. Gersen checked
the drawers and pigeonholes. They were barren of information—
completely empty, in fact. Gersen stood back, a tide of grim despair
rising within him. He looked at his watch. In four hours he must
meet Detteras, Warweave and Kelle at the spaceport. He stood in
the center of the room, carefully scrutinized every article. Some-
where must be a link with Dasce's secret planet; how to recognize
it?

He went to the bookshelf, took down the Star Directory^ ex-
amined the lay of the binding. If Dasce's red dwarf were listed he
certainly must have located it in the directory. If he had done so
several times, there might be a crease, a smear, a discoloration. No
such mark was visible. Gersen held the book by its two covers, let
it hang. A third through the book the pages separated a hairbreadth.
Gersen carefully opened the book at this spot, looked down the
listing. Each star—and on this page there were two hundred—was
described under eleven headings: index number, constellation place-
ment as viewed from Earth, star type, planetary information, mass,
vector of velocity, diameter, density, location coordinates, distance
from the center of the Oikumene, remarks.

Twenty-three red dwarfs were listed. Eight of these were dou-
ble. Eleven hung solitary in space, forlorn feeble sparks. Four were
accompanied by planets, eight planets in all. These four Gersen
scrutinized with especial care. Reluctantly he was forced to con-
clude that none of these planets could conceivably be considered
habitable. Five of the planets were too hot, one was completely
awash in liquid methane, two were too massive to allow human
toleration of the gravity. Gersen's mouth drooped in disappoint-
ment. Nothing. Still, the page at one time had been earnestly con-
sulted; there must be information here which Dasce needed or
valued. Gersen tore the page from the book.

The front door opened; Gersen whirled. In the opening stood
a middle-aged man no larger than a boy often. His head was round;

his eyes brimmed with curiosity, flicking over Gersen, around the
room. He had large features, long pointed ears, a heavy protuberant
mouth: a Highland Imp from the Highlands of Krokinole, one of
the more specialized races of the Concourse.

He came forward, fearlessly swaggering. "Who are you, that's

THE DEMON PRINCES

126

in Mr. Spock's house? Looking through Mr. Spock's things? A bur-
glar, I think."

Gersen replaced the book, and the Imp said, "That's one of his
precious volumes, that bit of stuff. Not likely he wants your fingers
all over it. I'd better go for the constable."

"Come back here," said Gersen. "Who are you?"

"I'm the by-your-leave caretaker, that's who I am. Also this is
my land and my house and my freehold. Mr. Spock is the man I
let to, and why should I give every burglar north of Swansea leave
to pillage and loot?"

"Mr. Spock is a criminal," said Gersen.

"And if he is, it's proof then that there's no honor among
thieves."

"I'm no thief," said Gersen mildly. "The IPCC is after your
tenant, Mr. Spock."

The Imp bent his big head forward. "Be you IPCC? Show me
your blazer."

On the assumption that a Krokinole Imp would not recognize
an IPCC blazer when he saw one, Gersen displayed a transparent
tablet, with his photograph under a gold seven-pointed star. He
touched it to his forehead and it glowed into light, a factitious dis-
play which impressed the Imp. He instantly became effusive in his
cordiality.

"Never did think that Mr. Spock was up to good. He'll come
to a bad end, mark my words! What's he done now?"

"Kidnap. Murder."

"Bad deeds, both. I'll have to caution Mr. Spock."

"He is a wicked man. How long has he lived here?"

"Donkey's years."

"You know him well, then?"

"Well indeed. Who drinks with him when everyone else turns
their heads as if Mr. Spock smelt poorly? Me. I drink with him,
and frequently. It's no treat to look like Mr. Spock, and I have my
compassion."

"So you're Spock's friend."

The big features twisted and moved in successive displays of
tolerance, crafty speculation, virtuous indignation. "I? Certainly
not. Do I look the sort who consorts with criminals?"

"But—let us say—you have heard Spock talking."

THE STAR KING

127

"That I have, and oh, the tales he tells!" The Imp's eyes rolled
ludicrously upward. "Do I believe him? No."

"Has he ever spoken of a secret world where he has a hide-
away?"

"Again and again. He calls it Thumbnail Gulch. W^hy? He al-
ways shakes his head when he's asked. A tight-mouthed man, Mr.
Spock, for all his loose braggadocio."

"What more has he said of his world?"

The Imp shrugged. "The sun's blood-red, hardly enough to
keep him warm."

"And where is this world?"

"Aha! That's where he's sly. No word of this will he speak.
Many's the time I've wondered, thinking that suppose poor Mr.
Spock took sick on this lonesome world—who'd know to tell his
friends?"

Gersen smiled grimly. "And this argument never induced him
to confide in you?"

"Never. Why do you wish to know?"

"He's kidnaped an innocent young woman and taken her to
this world."

"The rogue. What a raffish creature." The Imp shook his head
in distress, from which a certain measure of wistful envy was not
absent. "I'll never let my land and house to him again."

"Think. WTiat has Spock said regarding the world?"

The Imp screwed up his eyes. "Thumbnail Gulch. The world
is bigger than the sun. Astonishing, no?"

"If the sun is a red dwarf, not too astonishing."

"Volcanos. There are live volcanos on this world."

"Volcanos? That's odd. A red dwarfs planet shouldn't have
volcanos. It's too old."

"Old or young, the volcanos thrive. Mr. Spock lives in a dead
crater, and he sees a whole line of volcanos smoking up along the
horizon."

"What else?"

"Nought."

"How long does it take to get to his planet?"

"That I can't say."

"You've never met any of his friends?"

"Tosspots at the tavern, no more. But yes. One. Less than a
year ago—an Earthman, a heavy cruel man."

THE DEMON PRINCES

128

"Tristano?"

"I know nothing of his name. Mr. Spock had just returned from
a business trip Beyond, to a planet called New Hope. Do you know
it?"

"I've never been there."

"Nor I, though I've wandered far. But the very day of his re-
turn, while we sit in Gelperino's Saloon, the Earthman comes in.
'Where have you been?' he asks. 'Ten days I've been here, and we
left New Hope together.' Mr. Spock gives him his haughty look.
'If you must know, I looked in on my little hideaway for half a day.
I have obligations there, you know!' And the Earthman said no
more."

Gersen thought a moment and suddenly was in a hurry to leave.
"What more do you know?"

"Nothing more."

Gersen made a last survey of the house, under the inquisitive
scrutiny of the Imp, then departed, ignoring the Imp's sudden harsh
demands for damages when he discovered the broken window sash.
Hastily, now, Gersen rode down through the winding avenues,
across Sailmaker Beach, back into central Avente. He went to an
office of the Universal Technical Consultative Service, and gained
the attention of an operator.

"Set up this problem," said Gersen. "TWX) ships leave the planet
New Hope. One proceeds directly here, to Avente. The other goes
to a red dwarf star, spends half a day, then comes to Avente, arriving
ten days later. I want a list of the red dwarf stars which this second
ship might have visited."

The operator considered. "There is obviously an ellipsoid shell
here, the foci being New Hope and Alphanor. We must take into
account the accelerations and decelerations, the probable coast pe-
riods and landing times. There will necessarily be a locus of most
probability, and areas of diminishing probability."

"Set up the problem so that the machine lists these stars in
order of probability."

"To what limits?"

"Oh—one chance in fifty. Include also the constants of these
stars as given in the directory."

"Very well, sir. The fee will be 25 SVU."

Gersen brought forth money; the operator translated the prob-
lem into precise language, spoke into a microphone. Thirty seconds

THE STAR KING

129

later a sheet of paper dropped from a slot. The operator glanced
at it, signed his name, handed it without a word to Gersen.

Forty-three stars were listed. Gersen compared the list with the
page he had torn from Dasce's Directory. A single star occurred on
both lists. Gersen frowned in puzzlement. The star was a member
of a binary, without planets. The couple was.. . . Naturally! thought
Gersen, illumination flooding his mind. How else could volcanos
exist on the companion of a red dwarf? Dasce's world was not a
planet, but a dark star: a dead surface, perhaps still faintly warm.
Gersen had heard of such worlds. Usually they were too dense, too
massive for human occupancy, but if a small star in the course of
two or three billion years happened to sweep up enough detritus to
build a thick shell of light material, the surface gravity might well
be reduced to a tolerable level.

At ten minutes to seven, Kelle, Warweave and Detteras appeared
at the spaceport, wearing spacemen's harness, their skins washed
the blue-brown tone which originally, in popular credence, was
thought to protect the human organism from certain mysterious
Jarnell effluviae, and which by usage had become a normal adjunct
to the space traveler's accoutrements. They halted in the middle of
the lobby, looked about, spied Gersen, turned to face him as he
approached.

Gersen surveyed them with a dour smile. "We seem to be
ready, all of us. I thank you gentlemen for your promptness."

"Achieved, necessarily, at great inconvenience to all of us,"
stated Kelle.

"In due course the reason for haste will become clear," said
Gersen. "Your luggage?"

"On its way to the ship," said Detteras.

"Then we will leave. We have clearance?"

"Everything has been arranged," said Warweave.

The group proceeded from the lobby and walked around to the
docking area, toward which a crane was already trundling.

The luggage, four large cases and as many smaller packets, was
stacked beside the ship. Warweave unlocked the entry ports; Gersen
and Kelle passed the cases into the cabin. Detteras made a bluff
attempt to assert command. "We have four compartments aboard.
I'll take forward starboard; Kelle, you'll have starboard aft; War-

130 THE. DEMON PRINCES

weave, port forward; Gersen, port aft. We might as well move our
luggage out of the cabin."

"One moment," said Gersen. "There is a situation that we must
resolve before we proceed any further."

Detteras' big face creased in a scowl. "What sort of situation?"

"We are two parties of interest here—at least two parties. Nei-
ther trusts the other. W^e are going Beyond, past the edge of law.
All of us, recognizing this fact, have brought weapons. I propose
that we lock all weapons in the security cabinet; that we open the
luggage and, if necessary, strip ourselves naked, to assure each other
that all the weapons have been declared. Since you are three to my
one, if any advantage lies to either side, it is to yours."

"A highly undignified process," grumbled Detteras.

Kelle, more equable now than Gersen could have believed, said,
"Come now, Rundle. Gersen is merely verbalizing reality. In short,
I agree with him. The more so since I carry no weapons."

Warweave made a careless gesture. "Search me, search my lug-
gage; but let's get under way."

Detteras shook his head, opened his case, withdrew a projac of
great power, tossed it upon the table. "I have my doubts about the
wisdom of this. I have nothing against Mr. Gersen personally—but
suppose he takes us to a far planet where he has accomplices wait-
ing, who capture us and hold us for ransom? Stranger crimes have
occurred."

Gersen laughed. "If you consider this a real danger you need
only remain here. I don't care whether one goes or all go."

"WT-iat of your own weapons?" asked W^arweave dryly.

Gersen brought forth his projac, a pair of stilettos, a dagger,
four grenades the size of walnuts.

"Mv word," said Detteras. "You maintain quite an armament."

"I occasionally have need for it," said Gersen. "Now, the lug-
gage. .. ." The accumulated arms were placed in a cabinet which
was secured with four locks, each man retaining a key to one of the
locks.

The crane trundled up to the ship; the boom swung around.
Hooks engaged in trammels; the ship jerked, hung free, was carried
out on the field.

Detteras went to the main console and touched a button, w^hich
flashed a row of green lights. "Everything ready to go," he said.
"Tanks full, machinery in order."

THE STAR KING

131

Kelle cleared his throat and brought forth a handsomely
mounted wooden case bound in red leather. "This is one of the
departmental rationalizers. You have Mr. Teehalt's filament, I as-
sume?"

"Yes," said Gersen. "I have the filament with me. But there is
no hurry. Before we engage the monitor we must reach zero base
point, which is far distant."

"Very well," said Detteras. "WTiat are the coordinates?"

Gersen brought forward a slip of paper. "If you will allow me,"
he said politely, "I will make the settings on the autopilot."

With ill grace Detteras rose to his feet. "It seems to me that
there is no longer reason for distrust. We have stripped ourselves
of our weapons; all the issues have been settled. So let us all relax
and behave amicably."

"With pleasure," said Gersen.

The ship was lowered to the launching pad, the crane disen-
gaged and rolled away. The group settled themselves into takeoff
seats; Detteras started the automatic launching-sequence. There was
a Jar, a sense of acceleration, and Alphanor retreated below.

10

From the chapter "Malagate the Woe," in the book The
Demon Princes, by Caril Carphen, published by Eluci-
darian Press, New Wexford, Aloysius, Vega:

... In our cursory summary we have seen how each
Demon Prince is unique and highly individuated, each dis-
playing his characteristic style.

This is all the more remarkable in that the basic variety
of possible crimes is limited and can be numbered on the
fingers. There is crime for gain: extortion, robbery (which
includes piracy and raids on settled communities), swindling
in its infinite guises. There is slavery, with its various man-
ifestations: procuring, selling, and using slaves. Murder, co-
ercion, and torture are merely adjuncts to these activities.
The personal depravities are equally limited, and can be
classified under sexual debauchery, sadism, violent acts
prompted by pique, vmdictiveness, revenge, or vandalism.

Doubtless the catalogue is incomplete, perhaps even il-
logical, but this is beside the point. I merely wish to display
the basic paucity, in order to illustrate this point: that each
of the Demon Princes, in inflicting one or another atrocity,
impresses the act with his own style and seems to create a
new crime.

In the previous chapters we have examined the maniacal
Kokor Hekkus and his theories of absolute frightfulness; the
devious Viole Falushe, voluptuary, sybarite, and amateur of
kinaesthetics.

Completely distinctive is Artel Malagate, the Woe, in

THE STAR KING

style and mannerism. Rather than enlarging himself, pro-
jecting a macroscopic delineation of his person and deeds,
to mesmerize his victims and intimidate his enemies, Mal-
agate prefers the possibly equally chilling device of silence,
invisibility, dispassionate impersonality. There is no reliable
description of Malagate. Certainly Malagate is a cognomen,
derived from a folk epic of old Quantique. He acts with
implacable viciousness, although his cruelties are never
wanton, and, if he maintains a pleasure palace after the style
of Viole Falushe or Howard Alan Treesong, it is a well-
guarded secret.

Malagate's activities are primarily extortion and slavery.
In the Conclave of 1500 at Smade's Planet, where five De-
mon Princes and a score of lesser operators met to define
and circumscribe their activities, Malagate was allotted that
sector of the Beyond centered on Ferrier's Cluster. It in-
cludes over a hundred settlements, towns and vicinities,
upon all of which Malagate levies assessments. He rarely
encounters protest or complaint, for he need merely cite
the example of Mount Pleasant, a town of 5,000 persons
which declined to meet his demands. In the year 1499 Mal-
agate invited four other princes to join him. The junta
swept down upon the town, captured and enslaved the en-
tire population.

On the planet Grabhorne he maintains a plantation of
about ten thousand square miles, with a slave population
estimated at twenty thousand. Here are carefully tilled
farms, and factories which build exquisite furniture, musical
instruments and electronic mechanisms. The slaves are not
overtly ill treated, but working hours are long, the dormi-
tories are drab, social opportunities are restricted. Punish-
ment is a term in the mines, which few survive.

Attel Malagate's attention is usually wide and dispas-
sionate, but he sometimes focuses upon some individual.
The planet Caro lies in an area which none of the Demon
Princes claim. Mayor Janous Paragiglia of the city Desde
espoused and advocated a militia and space navy sufficient
to protect Caro, and to seek out and destroy Malagate or
any other of the Demon Princes who dared to attack Caro.
Malagate kidnaped Janous Paragiglia and tortured him for

THE DEMON PRINCES

154

thirty-nine days, telecasting the entire process to the cities
of Caro, to all the planets in his own sector, and, in one of
his rare acts of bravado, to the Rigel Concourse.

As mentioned, his personal appetites are unknown. A
rumor frequently encountered runs to the effect that Mal-
agate enjoys engaging in personal gladiatorial duels with
able-bodied enemies, with swords for weapons. Malagate is
said to exhibit superhuman strength and dexterity, and
seems to derive satisfaction from slowly hewing his oppo-
nent to bits.

Like certain other Demon Princes, Malagate maintains
a discrete and respectable identity within the Oikumene
and, if whispers are correct, occupies a prestigious position
on one of the major worlds. . . .

Alphanor became a misty pale disk, mingled with the stars. Within
the ship the four men settled into an uneasy accommodation. Kelle
and Warweave startled a quiet conversation. Detteras stared for-
ward into star-spattered emptiness. Gersen lounged to the side,
watching the three men.

One of them—not completely a man, or better, a simulated
man—was Malagate the Woe. Which?

Gersen thought he knew.

There was still no certainty in his mind; his conjecture was
based on indications, probabilities, suppositions. Malagate, for his
part, must still feel secure in his incognito. He had no reason to
suspect Gersen's objective; he must still consider Gersen no more
than an aquisitive locater out to drive as hard a bargain as he could.
So much the better, thought Gersen, if it would help him to a sure
identification. He wanted two things only: the freedom of Pallis
Atwrode, and the death of Malagate. And, of course, of Hildemar
Dasce. If Pallis Atwrode were dead—so much the worse for Dasce.

Surreptitiously Gersen watched his suspect. Was this man Mal-
agate? Frustrating to be so close to his goal. Malagate, of course,
had his own plans. Behind the human skull worked thought patterns
incommensurable to his own, moving toward a goal still obscure.

Gersen could define at least three areas of uncertainty in the
situation. First, did Malagate still carry weapons or have access to
weapons previously concealed aboard the ship? A possibility, al-

THE STAR KING 135

though he might be relying entirely on the hidden tanks of anaes-
thetic gas.

Second, were either or both of the other men his accomplices?
Again a possibility, but distinctly less strong.

Third, and a less simple set of circumstances: What would hap-
pen when the ship reached Dasce's dead star? Here again variables
piled on variables. Did Malagate know of Dasce's hideaway? If so,
would he recognize it on sight? The answers here were both Prob-
ably yes.

The question then would be, how to surprise and either capture
or kill Hildemar Dasce without hindrance from Malagate.

Gersen reached a decision. Detteras had urged the need for
amicability. One thing was sure: amicability would be sternly tested
before long.

Time passed; a wary routine was established. Gersen chose a
propitious time and gave the body of Suthiro to space. The ship
slid effortlessly past shining stars, at astounding speed, by means
only vaguely comprehensible to the men who controlled it.

The pale of human civilization and law came to an end; at some
precise instant the ship passed Beyond and struck up and out toward
the dwindling fringes of the galaxy. Gersen kept steady if discreet
surveillance over his three shipmates, wondering who would first
show concern, anxiety, or suspicion as to the immediate destination.

This person was Kelle, though any of the three might have been
muttering together out of Gersen's hearing. "Where the devil are
we headed?" Kelle inquired peevishly. "This is no area to attract a
locater; we're practically in intergalactic space."

Gersen took up a relaxed position. "I have not been altogether
candid with you three gentlemen."

Three faces turned swiftly, three pairs of eyes bored in at him.

"What do you mean?" grated Detteras,

"It is not a serious matter. I have been compelled to make a
detour. After I perform a certain errand, we will proceed with our
original plans." He raised his hand as Detteras took a deep breath.
"It serves no purpose to admonish me; the situation is unavoidable."

Warweave spoke in an icy voice: "What is this 'situation'?"

"I'll be glad to explain, and I'm sure all of you will appreciate
my predicament. First of all, I seem to have made an enemy of a
well-known criminal. He is known as Malagate the Woe." Gersen
glanced from face to face. "Doubtless you all have heard of him;

'I HE DEMON PRINCES

136

he is one of the Demon Princes. The day before we left one of his
lieutenants, a creature named Hildemar Dasce, kidnaped a young
woman I happen to be interested in and conveyed her to a private
world. I feel obligated to this young woman; she is suffering
through no fault other own, but merely from Malagate's desire to
punish or intimidate me. I believe I have located Dasce's planet; I
plan to rescue this young woman, and I hope for your cooperation."

Detteras spoke in a voice thick with rage. "Why could you
not have told us of your plans before we left? You insisted on leav-
ing, you forced us to break our engagements at great inconve-
nience—"

Gersen said mildly, "You have some cause for resentment, but,
since mv own time is limited, I thought it best to combine the two
projects." He grinned as Detteras' neck swelled in new fury. "With
luck, this business will not take long, and \\e will be on our way
without delay."

Kelle said meditatively, "The kidnaper has conveyed the young
woman to a world in this vicinity?"
"I think so. I hope so."

"And you expect our help in rescuing this young woman?"
"Only in a passive sense. I merely ask that you don't interfere
with my plans."

"Suppose that the kidnaper resents your intrusion. Suppose that
he kills you."

"The possibility exists. But I have the advantage of surprise. He
must feel completely secure, and probably I will have no great trou-
ble overpowering him."

"Overpowering him?" inquired Wanveave, delicately sardonic.
"Overpowering or killing him."

At this moment the Jarnell kicked out, the ship whined down
into ordinary velocities. Ahead glowed a dim red star. If it were
double, its companion was yet invisible.

Gersen said, "As I say, surprise is my most important asset, so
therefore I must ask that none of you through inadvertence or mal-
ice use the radio." Gersen already had disabled the radio, but he
saw no reason to put Malagate on his guard. "I'll explain my plans
so that there can be no misunderstanding. First, I'll bring the ship
close enough to inspect the surface of the planet, but far enough
out to avoid radar detection. If my theories are correct and I locate
Dasce's habitation, I'll go to the far side of the world, approach the

THE STAR KING 137

surface, and land as close to Dasce's dwelling as feasible. Then I'll
take the platform flyer and do what must be done. The three of
you need only wait till I return; then we shall be once more on our
way to Teehalt's planet. I know I can count on your cooperation,
because I naturally shall take the monitor filament with me and
hide it somewhere before I confront Hildemar Dasce. If I am killed,
the filament will be lost. Naturally I will need the weapons which
are now in the security locker, but I see no reason for objection on
your part."

No one spoke. Gersen, looking from one to another, studying
most intently the face of his suspect, laughed inwardly. Malagate
was posed with a maddening dilemma. If he should interfere and
by some means warn Dasce, then Gersen might well be killed and
Malagate's hopes of acquiring Teehalt's planet dashed. Would he
trade Dasce for the planet? Gersen was certain of his decision; Mal-
agate was notoriously callous.

Detteras heaved a deep sigh. "Gersen, you're a subtle man.
You've put us in a position where, for motives of sweet reason, we
are forced to do your bidding,"

"I assure you that my motives are irreproachable."

"Yes, yes, the damsel in distress. All very well; we ourselves
would be criminals to deny her the chance of rescue. My exasper-
ation is not at your goals—if you have told us the truth—but at
your lack of candor."

With nothing to lose, Gersen became humble. "Yes, perhaps I
should have explained more carefully. But I am accustomed to
working by myself. In any event, the situation is now as I have
described it. Do I have the cooperation of you all?"

"Humph," said Wanveave. "We have little choice, as you are
perfectly well aware."

"Mr. Kelle?" asked Gersen.

Kelle inclined his head.

"Mr. Detteras?"

"As Wanveave points out, we have no choice."

"In that case I will proceed with my plans. The world on which
we are to land, incidentally, is a dead star rather than a planet."

"Does not excessive gravity make habitation inconvenient?"
asked Kelle.

"We'll know very shortly."

Wanveave turned away, went to look out at the red dwarf. The

I HP DEMON PRINCES

dark companion had now become visible, a large brown-gray disk,
three times the diameter of Alphanor, mottled and reticulated in
black and umber. Gersen was pleased to find surrounding space rich
in detritus; the radar screen indicated dozens of minuscule plane-
toids and moonlets in orbits about each star. He could approach
the dead star boldly with small fear of detection. A momentary shift
into mtersplit braked the ship, another brought it to a state of lazy
drifting a quarter-million miles above the now looming mass.

The surface seemed dim and featureless, with vast areas covered
by what looked like oceans of chocolate-colored dust. The outline
of the world was sharp and stark against the black of space, indi-
cating a sparse atmosphere. Gersen went to the macroscope, in-
spected the surface. The world's relief leapt into perspective,
though the terrain still was hardly rugged. Chains of volcanic
mountains netted the surface, there was a mesh of rifts and cre-
vasses, a number of ancient isolated plutonic buttes, hundreds of
volcanos, some active, others dead or quiescent.

Gersen set crossbars on a short sharp peak at the demarcation
between day and night, the ob)ect seemed not to move, nor to alter
its position in relation to the line of darkness: apparently the world
held a constant face to its companion. In such case, Dasce's dwelling
would almost certainly be on the bright face, probably near the
equator, at the longitude directly under the sun. He scrutinized the
region carefully, under high magnification. The area was large;

there were dozens of volcanic craters, large and small.

Gersen searched for an hour. Warweave, Kelle and Detteras
stood watching him with varying degrees of impatience and sar-
donic dislike.

Gersen reviewed his logic; it seemed to hang together. The red
dwarf had been listed on a well-used page in Dasce's Directory, it
was found within the requisite ellipsoidal shell; it had a dark star
companion. This must be the star And, by every likelihood, Dasce's
crater must be located somewhere within the warm sunlit area be-
low.

An odd formation attracted his attention, a square plateau, with
five mountain ranges radiating like the fingers of a hand. A phrase
of the Melnoy Heights Imp occurred to him. "Thumbnail Gulch."
At fullest magnification Gersen examined the area corresponding
to the thumbnail Certainly there was a small crater here. Certainly
it seemed to show a slightly different color, a slightly different tex-

THE DIRKING

139

ture than the others. And there where the sunlight struck glancingly
on the inside wall, a glint^ And below, the faint shine of white3

Gersen reduced the magnification, studied the surrounding ter-
rain. Even though Dasce might not detect approaching ships at
planetary distances, his radar might w^rn him of ships approaching
for a landing. If he dropped down on the far side of the world and
then slanted in behind the hon/on, to land behind the plateau
which formed the palm of the hand, he might well be able to sur-
prise Dasce.

He fed the necessary information into the course computer,
engaged the autopilot. The ship veered and began its descent.

Kelle, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, "Well? Have you
found what you were looking for?"

"I think so," said Gersen. "I can't be certain."

"If you are careless enough to be killed," said Kelle, "you put
us to enormous inconvenience "

Gersen nodded. "This is essentially what I meant to convey to
you a short while ago. I am sure that you'll help me, at least pas-
sively."

"We have already agreed to this."

The dark star loomed below and the ship landed on a shelf of
naked brown stone a quarter mile from a heave of low black hills.
The stone was the texture of brick; the surrounding plain displayed
a surface resembling dried brown mud.

Overhead the red dwarf bulked large; the ship cast a dense black
shadow. A thin wind blew small curls of dust across the plain, sifting
a greenish-blue powder into long herringbone drifts.

Detteras said thoughtfully, "You know-, I think it only fair that
you leave the filament here. Why victimize us2"

"I don't plan to be killed, Mr. Detteras."

"Your plans might go awry."

"If so, your troubles will seem very trivial in comparison to
mine. May I have my weapons2"

The locker was opened; the three watched warily while Gersen
armed himself. He looked from face to face. In the mind of one of
these men feverish plots were hatching. Would he act as Gersen
anticipated—which was to say, not act? Here was a chance Gersen
must take. Suppose he were wrong, suppose this were not Dasce's
planet and Malagate knew it; suppose Malagate, through some in-
tuition, suspected Gersen's goal. He might be ready to sacrifice his

THE DEMON PRINCES

140

hopes of acquiring Teehalt's world in order to maroon Gersen out
here on this dark star. There was a precaution Gersen could take;

it would be foolish for him not to do so. He stepped back into the
engine room and detached a small but vital component from the
energy reactor, one which could be refabricated, if necessary, with
ingenuity and patience. He tucked it into his pouch, along with the
filament. Warweave, standing in the doorway, observed the act but
made no comment.

Gersen dressed himself in an airsuit, left the ship. Opening the
forward hatch, he winched down the little platform flyer, loaded
aboard a spare airsuit and spare tanks of oxygen, and without fur-
ther ceremony set out for Thumbnail Gulch, skimming low to the
ground, the thin atmosphere keening over the windshield.

The landscape was odd even to one accustomed to the terrain
of strange planets: a dark spongy surface in varying shades of ma-
roon, brown and gray, marred here and there by volcanic cones and
low wallowing black hills. This might be true star stuff—clinker
remaining after the fires had died—or it might be sediment swept
up from space. Most likely both. Gersen wondered, did the aware-
ness that he was traversing the surface of a dead star contribute to
the sense of weirdness and unreality? The thin atmosphere allowed
absolute clarity of vision; the horizons were far, the panorama
seemed endless. And overhead there was the glowering sphere of
the red dwarf, rilling an eighth of the sky.

The ground shouldered up to become the plareau which com-
prised the palm of the hand; a titanic flow of lava. Gersen swerved
to the right. Far ahead he could see a line of black hills lying across
the landscape like the back of a monstrous petrified triceratops.
This was the "thumb" at the end of which rose Dasce's volcano.
Gersen flew low to the ground, taking advantage of all possible
cover, swerving in and out, close to the wall of the plateau, and so
approached the line of jagged black peaks.

Slowly, cautiously, he eased up the tumbled slope, Jets muffled
by the thin air to no more than a mutter. Dasce might have installed
detectors along these slopes—but, on second thought, it seemed
hardly likely. He would consider the effort superfluous. Why attack
by land when a torpedo from space would be easier?

Gersen gained the ridge. There, two miles ahead, was the vol-
cano which he hoped would be Dasce's hideaway. Off to the side,
down on the plain which continued on and on indefinitely, was the

THE STAR KING 141

most welcome sight of Gersen's experience, a sight which brought
tears of sheer savage heart-rending joy to his eyes: a small space-
boat. His hypothesis had been correct: here was Thumbnail Gulch
in all certainty; here would be found Hildemar Dasce. And Pallis
Atwrode?

Gersen landed the platform and continued on foot, taking ad-
vantage of all possible cover, avoiding approaches where detectors
would be most likely, even though caution seemed no more than a
formality. Destiny could not bring him this far only to deal him
failure! He mounted the slopes: mingled basalt, obsidian and tuff.
Reaching the lip of the crater, he peered over—out on a webbed
dome constructed of thin cables and transparent film, held dis-
tended by air pressure. The crater was not large: fifty yards in di-
ameter and almost perfectly cylindrical, the walls being formed of
striated volcanic glass.

At the bottom of the crater Dasce had made a careless attempt
at landscaping. There were a pond of brackish water, a clump of
palm trees, a tangle of rank vines. Gersen looked an implacable
god, a god of vengeance.

In the center of the crater was a cage, and in the cage sat a
naked man: tall, haggard, his face a ghastly wreck, his body crooked,
marked with a hundred welts. Gersen remembered Suthiro's expla-
nation of how Dasce lost his eyelids. Looking again, he remem-
bered the photographs in Dasce's parlor: this man was the subject
of the photographs.

Gersen looked elsewhere. Directly below was a pavilion of black
cloth, a series of connected tents. There was no sign of Hildemar
Dasce. Entrance to the crater was apparently by way of a tunnel
leading through the wall of the volcano.

Gersen moved carefully around the lip, looked down over the
slope. The porous brown-black plain extended limitlessly off in
three directions. Nearby rested the spaceboat, seeming no larger
than a toy in the clarity of the atmosphere, on the endlessness of
the plain.

Gersen turned his attention back to the dome. With a knife he
cut a small slit in the film, then settled himself to watch.

Ten minutes passed before the pressure drop activated a warn-
ing signal. Out from one of the tents charged Hildemar Dasce.
Gersen saw him with savage delight. He wore loose white panta-
loons and no more. His torso, stained a faded purple, was ribbed

142

THE DEMON PRINCES

with muscle. He stared up with lidless eyes, the blue cheeks bloom-
ing from the vermilion face.

Dasce marched across the crater floor. The prisoner within the
cage followed him attentively with his gaze.

Dasce vanished from sight. Gersen hid in a crevice, Dasce pres-
ently emerged on the plain in an airsuit, carrying a case. He
mounted the crater wall with strong easy strides, passing close by

Gersen.

Dasce put down the case, brought forth a projector, swept a
beam of radiation over the surface of the dome. The escaping air,
evidently dosed with a fluorescent agent, glowed yellow. Dasce
went to the cut and bent over it, and Gersen felt his instant sus-
picion. He straightened up and looked all around. Gersen crouched

back out of sight.

When he looked once more, Dasce was at work mending the
rip with cement and a new strip of film. The entire operation re-
quired but a minute. Then Dasce replaced the unused material and
the projector into the case, straightened up. He made another care-
ful scrutiny of rim, slope and plain; then, suspicion blunted, he

started back down the slope.

Gersen rose from his hiding place and followed, not fifty feet

behind.

Dasce, Jumping from rock to rock down the slope, failed to

look back—until Gersen dislodged a rock which bounded ahead and
past. Dasce stopped, turned sharply. Gersen was out of sight behind
a jut of rock, grinning in a kind of mad glee.

Dasce proceeded. Gersen followed close behind. At the base of
the slope a sound, a vibration, alarmed Dasce. Once more he turned
to look up-slope—directly at the figure leaping down on him. Ger-
sen laughed to see the loose pale mouth open in startlement, and
then he struck. Dasce toppled, rolled, bounded to his feet, started
to run awkwardly for the airlock; Gersen fired at the back of one
of the rangy thighs. Dasce fell.

Gersen seized him by the ankles, dragged him into the airlock,
slammed the outer door. Dasce struggled and kicked, the red and
blue face hideously contorted. Gersen pointed the projac, but Dasce
merely tried to kick it from his grasp. Gersen fired again, numbing
Dasce's other leg. Dasce lay still, glaring like a boar at bay. With
a roll of tape brought hopefully for such a purpose, Gersen lashed
Dasce's ankles- Then warily he seized the right arm, bent it back

THE STAR KING 143

and around. Dasce was forced over on his face. Presently, after a
struggle, his arms were taped behind his back. The lock mechanism
automatically had filled the space with air; Gersen now removed
the vitrine globe from Dasce's head.

"W^e renew our acquaintance," said Gersen in a voice of
hushed, reverent joy.

Dasce said nothing.

Gersen dragged him out into the floor of the crater. The pris-
oner jumped to his feet, pressed himself to the bars of the cage,
stared at Gersen as if he were an archangel with wings, trumpet
and aureole.

Gersen assured himself as to the security of Dasce's bonds, ran
over to the tent, projac ready for an unexpected servitor or com-
rade-in-arms of Dasce's. The prisoner looked after him with
astounded, unbelieving- eyes.

Pallis Atwrode lay huddled under a limp dirty sheet, face to the
wall. There was no one else. Gersen touched her on the shoulder,
and fascinatedly watched her flesh crawl. His-exultation became
mingled with horror, to produce a queer stomach-twisting emotion
such as he had never before even imagined. "Pallis," he said, "Pal-
lis—it's Kirth Gersen." The words reached her, muffled by the
globe which Gersen still wore; she only crouched and huddled more
tightly. Gerson rolled her over; she lay with her eyes shut- Her
face, once so gay and impudent and charming, was bleak and aus-
tere. "Pallis," called Gersen, "open your eyes. It's Kirth Gersen!
You're safe!"

She shook her head slightly, held her eyes tight shut.

Gersen turned away. At the door to the tent he looked back.
Her eyes were wide open, staring in wonder, but she instantly
closed them again.

Gersen left her, investigated the entire crater, reassured himself
that no one else was present, and returned to Dasce.

"Nice place you've got here, Dasce," said Gersen in a conver-
sational tone. "A little hard to find when your friends want to drop

in.

"How did you find me?" said Dasce in a guttural voice. "No
one knows of this place."
"Except your boss."
"He doesn't know."
"How do you think I found out?"

144

THE DEMON PRINCES

Dasce was silent. Gersen went to the cage, unbarred the door,
motioned to the prisoner, wondering whether the man's mind had

also failed him. "Come out."

The prisoner limped haltingly forward. "Who are you?"

"No matter. You are free."

"Free?" The man worked his loose jaws over the word, turned
to look toward Dasce. He spoke in a reverent voice. "What of—

himr

"I shall kill him presently."

The man said softly, "This must be a dream."

Gersen returned to Pallis, She was sitting on the bed, the sheet
clutched around her. Her eyes were open. She looked at Gersen,
rose to her feet, fainted. Gersen lifted her, carried her out to the
crater floor. The erstwhile captive stood looking at Dasce from a
respectful distance. Gersen spoke to him. "WTiat is your name?"

The man looked momentarily bewildered. He knit his brows as
if trying to remember. "I am Robin Rampold," he said at last in a
soft hushed voice. "And you—you are his enemy?"

"I am his executioner. His nemesis."

"It is a marvel!" breathed Rampold. "After so long that I cannot
remember the beginning.. . ." Tears began to course down his
cheeks. He looked at the cage, walked over to it, studied it, then
looked back at Gersen. "I know this place well. Each crack, each
crevice, each fleck and crystal of the metal." His voice faded. Sud-
denly he asked, "What is the year?"

"1524."

Rampold seemed to become smaller. "I did not know it was so
long; I have forgotten so much." He looked up toward the dome.
"There is no day or night here—nothing but the red sun. When
he is gone, there are no events. ... Seventeen years I have stood in
that cage. And now I am out." He walked over to Dasce, stood
looking down at him. Gersen followed. Rampold said, "Long, long
ago we were two different people. I taught him a lesson. I made
him suffer. The memory is all that has kept me alive."

Dasce laughed a harsh cackle. "I have sought to repay you."
He glanced up toward Gersen. "Best kill me while you can, or I

will do the same to you."

Gersen stood reflecting. Dasce must die. There would be no

compunction when the time came. But behind the red forehead was
knowledge which Gersen needed. How to extract this knowledge?

THE STAR KING 145

Torture? Gersen suspected that Dasce would laugh while being
torn limb from limb. Trickery? Subtlety? He looked speculatively
down into the coarse red and blue face. Dasce did not flinch.

Gersen turned to Rampold. "Can you navigate Dasce's space-
boat?"

Rampold sadly shook his head.

"Then I suppose you must come with me."

Rampold spoke in a tremulous voice. "WTiat of—/ww?"

"Eventually I'll kill him."

Rampold said in a low voice, "Give him to me."

"No." Gersen returned to the inspection of Dasce. Somehow
he must be made to reveal the identity of Malagate. A direct ques-
tion would be worse than useless. "Dasce," he asked, "why did you
bring Pallis Atwrode out here?"

"She was too beautiful to kill," said Dasce easily.

"And why should you kill her?"

"I enjoy killing beautiful women."

Gersen grinned. Dasce possibly hoped to provoke him. "You
may or may not live to regret your sins."

"Who sent you here?" asked Dasce.

"Someone who knew."

Dasce slowly shook his head. "There is only one, and he never
sent you."

So much for that ploy, thought Gersen. Dasce would not easily
be deceived. Well then. He would take Dasce aboard the ship. The
situation was certain to produce some sort of reaction.

Now a new problem. He did not dare leave Robin Rampold
alone with Dasce, not even for long enough to fetch the platform.
Rampold might kill Dasce. Or Dasce might command Rampold to
release him. After seventeen years of degradation, Rampold might
be sufficiently under Dasce's influence to obey. And Pallis At-
wrode—what of her?

He turned to find her standing in the doorway, the sheet
clutched around her, watching him with a wide troubled gaze. He
approached her and she shrank back. Gersen was uncertain whether
or not she recognized him. "Pallis—it's Kirth Gersen."

She nodded somberly. "I know." She looked at the prone form
of Hildemar Dasce. "You've tied him up," she said in a voice of
troubled wonder.

"That's the least of his worries."

THE DEMON PRINC ES

146

She looked at him wanly Gersen found himself unable to
fathom her thoughts. "You're—you're not his friend2"

Gersen felt an entirely new type of sickness. "No I'm not his
friend Of course not. Did he say so^"

"He said .   he said    " She turned to stare m perplexity at

Dasce

"Don't believe anything he told you " He looked into her face,
wondering as to the extent of her confusion and shock "Are you—

all right^"

She refused to meet his eyes Gersen said gently, "I'm taking
you back to Avente You're safe now " She nodded stonily If she
would only evince some emotion' Relief—tears—even reproaches'

Gersen sighed, turned away The problem still remained how
to convey all of them to the platform He dared leave neither Pallas
nor Rampold alone with Dasce, he had en)oyed domination over
them both too long

Gersen replaced the vitrme globe over Dasce's head and
dragged him through the tunnel, out upon the plain, where the two
within could not see him.

Jets roaring at full power, the overloaded platform lurched slug-
gishly around the plateau, blowing up a fan of dust which settled
with startling rapidity in the thin atmosphere. Ahead stood the
spaceship, minute against the sweep of the vast horizon Gersen
landed close beside the entrance port. Hand weapon within easy
reach, he climbed the accommodation ladder Inside, Attel Mala-
gate had watched his approach, had seen the cargo Malagate could
not know what Dasce had told Gersen. He must be taut with in-
decision Dasce, who would recognize the ship, must suspect but
could not be sure that Malagate was aboard.

The airiock thudded shut, the pumps throbbed, the inner door
swung open Gersen stepped forward Kelle, Detteras, Warweave
sat at various quarters of the room. They looked at him without
friendliness. No one made a move

Gersen unfastened the head globe "I'm back "

"So we see," said Detteras.

"I've been successful," said Gersen "I've got a captive with me
Hildemar Dasce A word of warning to you This man is a brutal
murderer He is desperate. I intend to hold him under rigid con-
ditions I ask that none of you interfere or have anything to do with

THE STARKI\G 147

this man The other two persons are a man Dasce has kept penned
in a cage for seventeen years, and a young woman whom Dasce
recently kidnaped and whose mind may ha\e suffered in conse-
quence She shall use my cabin I shall keep Dasce in the cargo
hold The other man, Robin Rampold, will no doubt be happy for
the use of a settee "

"This voyage becomes stranger by the hour," said Warweave

Detteras rose impatiently to his feet "Why do you bring this
man Dasce aboard3 I'm surprised you haven't killed him "

"Consider me squeamish, if you like "

Detteras gave a bark of sour laughter "Let us proceed, we are
anxious to get this trip over as fast as possible "

Gersen sent Rampold into the ship with Pallis Atwrode, then
slid the platform under the winch, lifted the platform with Dasce
aboard into the cargo hold, where he removed Dasce's head globe
Dasce glared at him wordlessly

"You may see someone aboard you recognize," said Gersen
"He doesn't want his identity made known to his two colleagues,
as it would interfere with his plans You will be wise to keep a still
tongue in your head "

Dasce said nothing. Gersen secured him with exceeding care
At the center of a long cable he made a loop which he knotted and
clamped tightly around Dasce's neck I he ends of the cable he
made fast at opposite sides of the hold, stretching the cable taut
Dasce was now constricted in the middle of the hold, the cable
extending past him to right and left, the ends ten feet out of his
reach to either side Even with hands free Dasce could not work
himself loose Gersen now cut the tapes binding Dasce's arms and
legs Dasce instantly struck out Gersen dodged aside, clubbed
Dasce with the butt of his weapon Dasce reeled over senseless
Gersen slipped off Dasce's airsuit, searched the pockets ot the white
pantaloons, found nothing He made a final check of the bonds,
then returned to the main saloon, bolting the hatch behind him

Rampold had divested himself of his airsuit and sat quietly in a
corner Detteras and Kelle had done the same for Pallis Atwrode,
and had helped her into spare clothing She sat now to the side of
the cabin drinking coffee, her face wan and pinched, her eyes dark
and musing Kelle cast a glance of disapprobation toward Gersen
"Ihis is Miss Atwrode—the receptionist at the department WT-iat
in the name of heaven is your connection with her^'

14S TI IE DFMON PRINCES

"The answer is perfectly simple," said Gersen. "I met her the
first day I visited the university, and asked her out for the evening.
For reasons of sheer spite or malice, or so I suppose, Hildemar
Dasce struck me down and kidnaped her. I felt it was my duty to
rescue her, and I've done so."

Kelle smiled thinly. "I suppose we can't fault you for this."

Warweave spoke in the driest of voices- "Presumably we will
now make for our original destination."

"That is certainly my intention."

"I suggest then that we proceed."

"Yes," grumbled Detteras. "The sooner we put a term to this
fantastic voyage the better."

The dark star and its feeble red companion became one with space.
In the hold Hildemar Dasce, recovering consciousness, swore in a
low vile mutter, testing his bonds with insensate ferocity. He tore
and twisted at the clamps till the skin peeled from his fingers, he
plucked at the metal strands in the cable till his fingernails broke.
Then he tried a new procedure. Thrusting against the floor, lunging
from side to side, he tried to pull the cable loose from where it was
fastened at the walls: first to the right, then to the left. He suc-
ceeded only in bruising his neck. Assured that he was in fact help-
less, though hands and feet were free, he relaxed, panting. His mind
seethed with emotion. How had Gersen located the dark star7 No
one alive knew the location but himself. And Malagate. Dasce re-
viewed the occasions on which he had circumvented, cheated, or
failed Malagate, and wondered if one of these occasions might not
have come home to roost.

In the saloon, Gersen sat brooding on a settee. The three men
from the university—one of whom was not a man—stood together
far forward. There was Kelle: suave, fastidious, compact in phy-
sique, Warweave: ectomorphic, saturnine; Detteras: large-bodied,
restless, moody. Gersen eyed his suspect, probing his every act,
word, and gesture for corroboration, for some sign to provide the
absolute assurance he needed. Pallis Atwrode sat quietly nearby, lost
in reverie. From time to time her face twitched, her fingers
clenched into her palms. There would be no qualms about the kill-
ing of Hildemar Dasce. Robin Rampold stood listlessly at the mi-
crofilm library, looking at the index, stroking his long bony chin.

He turned, glanced toward Gersen, sidled across the room wolf-

7HI- S/^A/\C,

149

ishly. In a voice so polite as to seem servile he asked, "He—is he
alive?"

"For the moment."

Rampold hesitated, opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally
he asked diffidently, "What do you plan for him2"

"I don't know," said Gersen. "I want to make use of him."

Rampold became very earnest. He spoke in a low voice, as if
afraid that the other occupants of the saloon would hear. "Why not
put him into my charge3 Then you would be relieved of the effort
of guarding and tending him."

"No," said Gersen, "I think not."

Rampold's face became even more haggard and desperate.
"But—I must."

"You must^"

Rampold nodded. "You cannot understand For seventeen years
he has been—" He could not find words. Finally he said, "He has
been the center of my existence. He has been like a personal god.
He has provided food and dnnk and pain. Once he brought me a
kitten—a beautiful black kitten. He watched as I touched it, smiling
as if benign. This time I thwarted him. I killed the little creature,
at once. Because I knew his plan. He wanted to wait until I came
to love it, then he would kill it—torture it where I could watch. . .
Of course he made me pay."

Gersen drew a deep breath. "He has too much power over you.
I can't trust you with him."

Tears began to form m Rampold's eyes He spoke in a series
ofdis)omted sentences. "It is strange. I feel grief now. W^hat I feel
for him I cannot put into words. It goes to an extreme and beyond
and becomes almost tenderness. Substances can be so sweet that
they taste bitter, so sour that they taste salt. . . Yes, I would care
for him with great pains. I would devote the rest of my life to him."
He held out his hands "Give him to me I have nothing, or I would
repay you."

Gersen could only shake his head. "We will talk of this later."

Rampold nodded heavily, returned across the room. Gersen
looked forward to where Detteras, Kelle and Warweave continued
a desultory conversation Apparently they were agreed, tacitly or
otherwise, on a policy of disinterest toward the new passengers.
Gersen smiled grimly. He who was Malagate would not care to
confront Hildemar Dascc Dasce's temperament was not a subtle

150 THE DKMON PRINCES

one; he was as likely as not to blurt out some damaging disclosure.
Malagate would certainly try for a few quiet words of warning and
reassurance, or conceivably an opportunity to murder Dasce dis-
creetly.

The situation was unstable; sooner or later it was bound to
collapse into more truthful relationships. Gersen toyed with the
idea of precipitating the climax, perhaps by bringing Dasce into the
saloon or taking Kelle, Detteras and Warweave into the cargo hold.
... He decided to bide his time. He still carried his weapons; the
three from the university, apparently assured of his good intentions,
had not required that he restore them to the locker. Amazing,
thought Gersen: even now Malagate could have no cause to suspect
that Gersen stalked him. He would be less wary than he might be,
and, using the pretext of curiosity, might well seek to look in on
Dasce.

Vigilance, thought Gersen. It occurred to him that Robin Ram-
pold would be a useful ally in this situation. No matter what dis-
tortions and sublimations seventeen years had produced, he would
be no less alert than Gersen himself in any matter relating to Hil-
demar Dasce.

Gersen rose to his feet and went aft, through the engine room,
into the cargo hold. Dasce, making no pretense of stoic resignation,
glared at him. Gersen noted Dasce's bleeding fingers and, putting
his projac on a shelf to void the possibility of Dasce's wresting it
away from him, stepped close to check Dasce's bonds. Dasce kicked
savagely. Gersen hacked him behind the ear with the side of his
hand, and Dasce fell back. Gersen assured himself as to the clamps
which constricted the cable around Dasce's neck, then moved back,
out of his reach.

"It seems," said Gersen, "that troubles are catching up with
you."

Dasce spat at him. Gersen jumped back. "You're in a poor case
for such offensiveness."

"Fah! What more can you do to me? Do you think I fear death?
I live only out of hate."

"Rampold has asked that I give you into his care."

Dasce sneered. "He fears me until he reeks and crawls. He is
soft as honey- It was no longer gratifying to hurt him."

"I wonder how long it will take to make the same sort of man
out of you."

THE STAR KING 151

Dasce spat once more. Then he said, "Tell me how you found
my star."

"I had information."

"From whom?"

"What difference does it make?" said Gersen. He thought to
insert an idea into Dasce's mind. "You'll never have the opportunity
of paying him off."

Dasce pulled back his mouth in a hideous grin. "Who is aboard
this ship?"

Gersen made no reply. Standing back in the shadows, he
watched Dasce. He must suspect, to the point of certainty, that
Malagate was aboard. Dasce could be no less uncertain than Mal-
agate himself.

Gersen framed and discarded a half-dozen questions calculated
to trick Malagate's name from Dasce. The best were either too
clumsy or too subtle; the worst would apprise Dasce that Gersen
wanted information, and so put him on his guard,

Dasce tried to wheedle. "Come! As you say, I am helpless, at
your mercy. I am interested in learning who betrayed me."

"Who do you think it might be?"

Dasce grinned ingenuously. "I have a number of enemies. For
instance, the Sarkoy. Was it he?"

"The Sarkoy is dead."

"Dead!"

"He helped you kidnap the young woman. I poisoned him."

"Fah," spat Dasce. "Women are everywhere. Why become ex-
cited? Release me. I have wealth and I will pay you half if you tell
me who betrayed me."

"It was not Suthiro the Sarkoy."

"Tristano? Surely not Tristano. How could he know?"

"When I met Tristano he had little to say."

"Who then?"

Gersen said. "Very well, I'll tell you; why not? One of the
administrators at the Sea Province University gave me the infor-
mation."

Dasce rubbed his hand over his mouth, looked sidewise at Ger-
sen in suspicion and doubt. "Why should he do so?" he muttered.
"I can't understand any of this."

Gersen had hoped to surprise an exclamation from Dasce. He
asked, "Do you know to whom I refer?"

152

THE DEMON PRINCES

But Dasce only looked at him blankly. Gersen picked up his

projac, left the hold.

Returning to the saloon, he found conditions as before. He
signaled Robin Rampold back into the engine room. "You asked
that Dasce might be put into your charge."

Rampold eyed him in tremulous excitement. "Yes!"

"I cannot do this—but I need your help in guarding him."

"Of course!"

"Dasce is tricky. You must never enter the cargo hold."

Rampold winced in disappointment.

"Equally important, you must not allow anyone else near the
cargo hold. These men are Dasce's enemies. They might kill him."

"No, no!" exclaimed Rampold. "Dasce must not die!"

Gersen had a new thought. Malagate had ordained the death
of Pallis Atwrode for fear that unwittingly she might reveal his
identity. In her present state she posed no threat; nevertheless, she
might recover. Malagate might well wish to destroy her, if he could
do so without risk. Gersen said, "Also, you must try to guard Pallis
Atwrode, and make sure that no one disturbs her."

Rampold was less interested. "I will do what you ask."

11

From "The Avatar's Apprentice," in Scroll from the
Ninth Dimension:

Intelligence? asked Marmaduke at one of the permitted
intervals, as he attended the EMINENCE upon the Parapet-
What is intelligence?

Why, responded the EMINENCE, it is no more than a
human occupation; an activity which men put their brains
to, as a frog kicks his legs to swim; it is a standard which
men in their egotism use to measure other and perhaps
nobler races, who are thereby dumfounded.

Do you mean, REVEREND GRAY, that no living creature
other than man can share the quality of intelligence?

But ha! And why should I not ask, what is LIFE, what
is LIVING, but a disease of the primordial slime, a purulence
in the original candid mud, which culminates through cy-
cles and degrees, by distillations and sediments, in the hu-
man manifestation?

But, RF\TREND, it is known that other worlds dem-
onstrate this fact of LIFE. I allude to the jewels of Olam, as
well as the folk of the Chthonian Bog.

Witling, how have you glanced off the exact stroke of
the ESSENCE.

REVEREND, I crave your indulgence.

The way along the Parapet is not to the forward-footed.

REVEREND CRAY, I pray that my direction be denned.

Eight tones of the gong have sounded. Be content for
the nonce, and fetch the morning wine.

154 FHE DEMON PRINCES

The filament from Lugo Teehalt's monitor fed impulses into the
computer, which digested the information, combined it with the
equations describing the ship's previous position, and despatched
instructions to the autopilot which swerved the ship off and away,
on a course roughly parallel to the line between Alphanor and
Smade's Planet. Time passed Life within the ship fell into a rou-
tine Gersen, assisted by Robin Rampold, guarded the cargo hold,
though Gersen forbade Rampold entry into the hold itself. For the
first few days Hildemar Dasce evinced a brassy jocularity, alternat-
ing with earnest threats of vengeance at the hands of an agent he
refused to identify

"Ask Rampold what he thinks," said Dasce, leering from his
bright blue hdless eyes "Do you want this happening to you7"
"No," said Gersen "I don't think it's going to happen "
Occasionally Dasce demanded that Gersen answer his ques-
tions "Where are you taking me3" he would ask. "Back to Al-
phanor3"
"No "
"Where, then3"
"You'll see."

"Answer me, or by"—here Dasce swore obscene oaths—"I'll
do you worse than you've ever imagined'"

"It's a chance we have to take," said Gersen
"We3" asked Dasce softly. "Who is 'we'?"
"Don't you know3"

"Why doesn't he come in here3 Tell him I want to talk to him."
"Any time he wants he can come in "

At which Dasce fell silent Goad, prod, pry as he might, Gersen
never could induce Dasce to utter a name. Nor did any of the three
from the university show interest in Dasce As for Pallis Atwrode,
her detachment at first was profound For hours she sat, looking
out at the passing stars She ate, slowly, hesitantly, without hunger,
she slept for hours on end, curled into as tight a ball as possible
Then gradually she returned to the present, and at times became
something like the carefree Pallis Atwrode of old.

The overcrowded confines of the ship made it impossible for
Gersen to talk to her in private, which, in his estimation, was as
well The situation, with Dasce in the hold and Artel Malagate in
the forward cabin, was already strained to an almost unbearable
degree of taucness

THE STAR KI\G

More time passed The ship traversed new regions, and regions
after regions where no man had passed but one Lugo Teehalt To
all sides hung stars by the thousand, by the million streaming,
swarming, flowing, glaring, glittering, shirting silently one across
the other, and the other across another still—worlds of infinite va-
riety, populated by who knows whom, each drawing the eye, fixing
the imagination, evoking wonder, each world an urge, a temptation,
a mystery, each a promise of unseen sights, unknown knowledge,
unsensed beauty

Eventually a warm golden-white star showed dead ahead. The
monitor panel blinked alternately green, red, green, red. I'he au-
topilot choked down the energy output, the split began to collapse,
the ship set up a weird subsound as eddies and disturbances and
backdrafts of a substance which could only be called space sucked
at the ship's fabric

The split collapsed with a slight shock, the ship slid serenely,
like a boat drifting on a pond The golden-white sun hung close at
hand, controlling three planets One was orange, small and near, a
fuming cinder Another swung in a far orbit, a gloomy dismal world,
the color of tears The third, sparkling green and blue and white,
revolved close below the ship

Gersen, Warweave, Detteras and Kelle, antagonisms temporar-
ily set aside, bent over the macroscope The world was clearly beau-
tiful, with a thick moist atmosphere, ample oceans, a varied
topography

Gersen was the first to stand away from the screen The time
had come to hone his vigilance to its sharpest edge Warweave
stood back next "I'm completely satisfied The planet is nonpareil
Mr. Gersen has not deceived us "

Kelle looked at him in surprise "You think it unnecessary to
land3"

"I think it unnecessary But I am willing to land " He moved
across the cabin, stood near the shelf to which was affixed Suthiro's
switch. Gersen tensed Is it to be Warweave3 But Warweave passed
on Gersen released his pent breath Of course the time was not
yet To profit from the gas, Malagate must somehow protect him-
self from its influence

Kelle said, "I certainly believe that we should land, at least to
make biometrics In spite of its appearance the world may be com-
pletely unfriendly "

156

THE DEMON PRINCES

Detteras said doubtfully, "It's rather awkward, with captives and
invalids and passengers. The sooner back to Alphanor the better."

Kelle snapped in a voice as sharp as any Gersen had heard him
use. "You talk like a jackass. All this way, merely to turn tail and
run home? Obviously we must land, if only to walk out on the

planet for five minutes!"

"Yes," said Uetteras glumly. "No doubt you're right."

"Very well," said Warweave. "Down we go."

Gersen wordlessly swung the autopilot toggle over into the
landing program. The horizons extended, the landscape became
distinct: green parkland, low rolling hills, a chain of lakes to the
north, a range of snow-clad crags to the south. The ship settled to
the ground; the roar of exhaled energy ceased. There was now so-
lidity underfoot, utter quiet except for the ticking of the automatic
environment analyser, which presently flashed three green lights:

the optimum verdict.

There was a short wait for pressure equalization. Gersen and
the three men from the university donned exterior clothing, rubbed
allergen inhibitor on face, hands and neck, adjusted inhalators

against bacteria and spores.

Pallis Atwrode looked from the observation ports in innocent
wonder; Robin Rampold sidled uneasily along the back bulkhead
like a lean old gray rat, making tentative motions, as if he wished
to alight but did not dare leave the security of the saloon.

Air from outside flooded the boat, smelling fresh, damp, clean.
Gersen went to the port, swung it open, made a polite if ironic

gesture. "Gentlemen—your planet."

Warweave was the first to step down to the ground, with Det-
teras close behind, then Kelle. Gersen followed more slowly.

The monitor had brought them to a spot hardly a hundred
yards from Lugo Teehalt's landing. Gersen thought the landscape
even more entrancing than the photographs had suggested. The air
was cool, scented with a vaguely herbaceous freshness. Across the
valley, beyond a stand of tall dark trees, the hills rose, massive yet
gentle, marked by outcrops of worn gray rock, the hollows holding
copses of soft foliage. Beyond rose a single great billowing cloud

castle, bright in the noon sunlight.

Across the meadow, on the far side of the river, Gersen saw
w^at appeared to be a growth of flowering plants, and knew them
to be the dryads. They stood at the edge of the forest, swaying on

THE STAR KING 157

supple gray limbs, their movements easy and graceful. Magnificent
creatures, thought Gersen, beyond a doubt—but somehow they
were a—well, a discordant element. A perverse notion—but there
it was. On their own planet they seemed out of place' Exotic ele-
ments in a scene as dear and beloved as—as what? Earth? Gersen
felt no conscious emotional attachment for Earth. Still, the world
most nearly like this was Earth—or, more accurately, those occa-
sional areas of Earth which somehow had evaded the artifices and
modifications wrought by generations of man. This world was fresh,
natural, unmodified. Except for the dryads—a jarring note—this
might be Old Earth, Earth of the Golden Age, the Earth of natural
man. . . .

Gersen felt a small exhilarating shock of enlightenment. Here
resided the basic charm of the world: its near-identity to the envi-
ronment in which man had evolved. Old Earth must have known
many such smiling valleys; the feel of such landscapes permeated
the entire fabric of the human psyche. Other worlds of the Oiku-
mene might be pleasant and comfortable, but none were Old Earth;

none of them were Home. .. . For a fact, mused Gersen, here is
where I would like to build a cottage, with an old-fashioned garden,
an orchard in the meadow, a rowboat tied to the riverbank. Dreams,
idle yearning for the unattainable . . . but dreams and yearning
which necessarily must affect every man. Gersen blinked at the im-
pact of a new thought. Suddenly attentive, he watched the others.

Warweave stood by the riverbank frowning down into the wa-
ter. Now he turned and shot a suspicious glance toward Gersen.

Kelle, beside a clump of ferns as high as his shoulder, looked
first up to the head of the valley with its great white spire of cu-
mulus, then down toward the far open parkland. The forest at either
side of the valley formed an aisle, continuing till it melted and
blurred into haze.

Detteras paced slowly along the meadow, hands behind his
back. Now he bent, scooped up a handful of sod, worked it between
his fingers, let the soil sift and fall. He turned to stare at the dryads.
Kelle did the same.

The dryads, gliding slowly on supple legs, moved out of the
shadows, toward the pool. Their fronds shone blue and magenta,
copper-russet, gold-ocher. Intelligent beings?

Gersen turned once more to watch the three men. Kelle
scowled faintly. W^arweave inspected the dryads with obvious ad-

15S

THE DK.MON PRINCKS

miration. Detteras suddenly put his hands to his mouth and shrilled
an ear-piercing whistle, to which the dryads seemed oblivious.

There was a sound from the ship; Gersen turned to see Pallis
Atwrode descending the ladder. She raised her hands in the sun-
light, drew a deep breath. "What a beautiful valley," she murmured.
"Kirth, what a beautiful valley." She wandered slowly away, pausing
now and then to look around her in delight.

Gersen, on sudden thought, turned and ran back up the ladder
into the ship. Rampold—where was Rampold? Gersen hastened
back to the cargo hold. Rampold had already entered. Gersen ad-
vanced cautiously, listened.

Dasce's voice came gruff, hoarse, full of a detestable exultation.
"Rampold, do as I say. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Hildemar."

"Go to the bulkhead, unloose the cable. Hurry now."

Gersen moved to where he could look unobserved into the
hold. Rampold stood not four feet from Dasce, staring down into

the red face.

"Do you hear me? Hurry, or I will cause you such grief, you

will bewail the day you were born."

Rampold laughed softly, quietly. "Hildemar, I have asked Kirth
Gersen for you. I told him I would cherish you like a son, I would
feed you the most nutritious foods, the most invigorating drink. ..
I do not think he will give you to me, so I must gulp down just a
taste of the joy I have promised myself for seventeen years. I am
now about to beat you to death. This is the first opportunity—"

Gersen stepped forward. "Sorry, Rampold, to interrupt."

Rampold uttered an inarticulate cry of utter desolation, turned,
ran from the hold. Gersen followed him. In the engine room he
made a careful adjustment of his projac, thrust it into a holster,
returned to the cargo hold. Dasce bared his teeth like a wild animal.

"Rampold has no patience." He went to the bulkhead, began
to unfasten the cable.

"What are you going to do?" Dasce demanded.

"The orders are that you shall be executed."

Dasce stared. "What orders?"

"You fool," said Gersen. "Can't you guess what's happened?
I'm taking your old position." One side of the cable fell free. Ger-
sen crossed the room. "Don't move unless you want me to break
your leg." He unfastened the other end of the cable. "Now stand

THE STAR KING

159

up. Walk slowly forward and down the ladder. Don't make a single
wrong move or I'll shoot you."

Dasce rose slowly to his feet. Gersen motioned with his projac.
"Move."

Dasce said, "Where are we?"

"Never mind where we are. Move."

Dasce slowly turned and, trailing the two long ends of the cable,
went forward—through the engine room, into the saloon, to the
exit port. Here he hesitated, looked back over his shoulder. "Keep
going," said Gersen.

Dasce descended the ladder. Gersen, following close, slipped
on the trailing cable. He jumped to the ground and fell heavily, flat
on his face. Dasce gave a wild raucous cry of exultation, leaped on
him, seized the projac, sprang back.

Gersen slowly rose to his feet, backed away.

"Stop there," called Dasce. "Oho, but I have you now." He
glanced around. Fifty feet to one side stood W^arweave and Det-
teras, and slightly behind them Kelle. Pressed against the hull was
Rampold. Dasce nourished the projac. "All of you, stand together
while I decide what to do. Old Rampold, it's time he was dead. And
Gersen, naturally, in the belly." He looked to where the three from
the university stood. "And you"—he said to one of the men—"you
played me false."

Gersen said, "You won't do yourself much good, Dasce."

"Oho, I won't? I hold the weapon. There's three here who are
going to die. You, old Rampold, and Malagate."

"There's only a single charge in the gun. You may get one of
us, but the others will get you."

Dasce turned a quick look at the charge indicator. He laughed
harshly. "So be it. Who wants to die? Or rather, who do I want to
kill?" He looked from face to face. "Old Rampold—I've had my
pleasure from him. Gersen. Yes, I'd like to kill you. With a red-
hot iron in your ear. And Malagate. You sly dog. You betrayed me.
What your game is I don't know. Why you brought me here I don't
know. But you're the one I'm going to kill." He raised the weapon,
pointed, squeezed the trigger. Energy darted from the gun—but
not the blazing blue bolt. Only a weak pale sizzle. It struck War-
weave, knocked him to the ground. Gersen charged Dasce. Instead
of fighting, Dasce hurled the weapon at Gersen's head, turned and

160

TIIF, DEMON PRINCRS

ran up the valley. Gersen picked up the projac, snapped it open,
inserted a fresh power pack.

He walked slowly forward to where Warweave was picking
himself up from the ground. Detteras barked at Gersen, "You must
be a moron, allowing such a man to take your gun."

Kelle spoke in a puzzled voice. "But why shoot Gyle War-
weave? Is he a maniac?"

Gersen said, "I suggest we go back into the ship, where Mr.
Warweave can rest. There was only a small charge in the gun, but

no doubt it hurt."

Detteras grunted, turned toward the ship. Kelle took War-
weave's arm, but Warweave shook him off and lurched up the ac-
commodation ladder, followed by Detteras and Kelle, and finally

Gersen.

Gersen asked Warweave, "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes," said Warweave in a cold voice. "But I agree with Det-
teras. You displayed the utmost folly."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Gersen. "I carefully arranged the

whole affair."

Detteras gaped at him stupidly. "Purposely?"

"I shorted out the projac, I arranged that Dasce could seize it,
I informed him that there was a single charge left—so that he could
verify my own conviction regarding the identity ofAttel Malagate."

"Attel Malagate?" Kelle and Detteras stared blankly at Gersen.
Warweave watched him narrow-eyed.

"Malagate the Woe. I've watched Mr. Warweave for a long
time, feeling that he should more properly be known as Malagate."

"This is lunacy," gasped Detteras. "Are you serious?"

"Certainly I'm serious. It had to be either you, Warweave, or

Kelle. I picked W^arweave."

"Indeed," said Warweave. "May I ask why?"

"Of course. First of all I dismissed Detteras. He is an ugly man.
Star Kings are more careful with their physiognomy."

"Star Kings?" blurted Detteras. "Who? Warweave? What non-


sense!

"Detteras likewise is a good eater, while Star Kings eat human
food with disgust. As for Mr. Kelle, I also thought him an unlikely
candidate. He is short and round—again not the physiognomy
characteristic of a Star King."

THE STAR KING

161

Warweave's face twisted in a glacial smile. "You imply that a
good appearance guarantees depravity of character?"

"No. I imply that Star Kings seldom leave their planet unless
they can compete successfully against true men. Now, two other
points. Kelle is married and has bred at least one daughter. Sec-
ondly, Kelle and Detteras have legitimate careers at the university'.
You are Honorary Provost and I remember something to the effect
that a large endowment brought you the job."

"This is insanity," declared Detteras. "Warweave as Malagate
the Woe. And a Star King to boot!"

"It's a fact," said Gersen.

"And what do you propose to do?"

"Kill him."

Detteras stared, then lunged forward, roaring in triumph as he
grappled Gersen, only to grunt as Gersen twisted, swung an elbow,
struck with the butt of the projac. Detteras reeled back.

"I want the cooperation of you and Mr. Kelle," said Gersen.

"Cooperate with a lunatic? Never!"

"Warweave is frequently absent from the university for long
periods. Am I right? And one of these periods was only recently.
Right?"

Detteras set his jaw. "I'll say nothing about that."

"This is true enough," said Kelle uneasily. He glanced sidewise
at Warweave, then back to Gersen. "I assume you have strong rea-
sons for your accusation."

"Certainly."

"I'd like to hear some of these reasons."

"They make a long story. It's enough to say that I tracked
Malagate to the Sea Province University and narrowed the possi-
bilities to you three. I suspected Warweave almost from the first,
but I never was certain until the three of you stepped out on this
planet,"

"This is sheer farce," sighed Warweave wearily.

"This planet is like Earth—an Earth that no man alive has ever
known; an Earth which hasn't existed for ten thousand years. Kelle
and Detteras were entranced. Kelle drank in the view, Detteras
reverently felt the soil. Warweave went to look into the water. Star
Kings evolved from amphibious lizards who lived in wet holes. The
dryads appeared. Warweave admired them, seemed to consider
them ornamental. To Kelle and Detteras—and to myself—they are

162 I HP DFMON PRINCES

intruders. Detteras whistled at them, Kelle scowled We men don't
want fantastic creatures on a world so dear to us. But all this is
theorizing. After I managed to capture Hildemar Dasce I went to
great lengths to convince him that Malagate was his betrayer. When
I gave him the chance he identified Warweave—with the pro)ac."

War-weave shook his head pityingly. "I deny all your allega-
tions." He looked to Kelle. "Do you believe me5"

Kelle pursed his lips. "Confound it, Gyle, I've come to regard
Gersen as a competent man. I don't believe him to be either irre-
sponsible or a lunatic."

Warweave turned to Detteras. "Rundle, what of you?"

Detteras rolled up his eyes. "I am a rational man; I can't have
blind faith—in you, in Gersen or m anyone else. Gersen has made
a case and, astonishing as it is, the facts seem to bear him out. Can
you demonstrate to the contrary?"

Warweave considered. "I believe so." He strolled to the shelf
below which Suthiro had installed the switch. The inhalator he had
worn outside dangled from his hand. "Yes," said Warweave, "I
believe I can make a convincing case for myself." He pressed the
mhalator to his face, touched the switch. At the forward console
the air-pollution alarm sounded, a raucous loud clanging.

"If you turn back the switch," Gersen called out, "the noise
will stop."

Warweave numbly reached below the shelf, reversed the switch.

Gersen turned to Kelle and Detteras. "Warweave is as surprised
as you. He thought that the switch controlled the gas reservoirs
which you will find under the settees; hence his use of the mhalator.
I emptied the tanks and changed the leads of the switch."

Kelle looked under the settee, brought forth the canister. He
looked at Warweave. "Well, Gyle?"

Warweave tossed aside the inhalator, turned his back m disgust.

Detteras suddenly roared, "W^arweave' Let's have the truth'"

Warweave spoke over his shoulder. "You've heard the truth
From Gersen."

"You are—Malagate^" said Detteras in a hushed voice.

"Yes." W^anveave wheeled about, drew himself up to his full
height. His black eyes glared back and forth. "And I am a Star King,
superior to men'"

"A man has defeated you," said Kelle

W^rweave's eyes burnt even brighter. He turned to consider

THE STAR KI\G

Gersen. tt! am curious. Ever since your encounter with Lugo Tee-
halt you have sought Malagate. Why?"

"Malagate is one of the Demon Princes. I hope to destroy each
of them."

"So what is your intention in regard to me?"

"I plan to kill you."

Warweave thought for a moment. "You are an ambitious man,"
he said m a neutral voice. "There are not many like you."

"There were not many survivors of the raid on Mount Pleasant.
My grandfather was one. I was another."

"Indeed," said Warweave. "The Mount Pleasant raid. So long
ago."

"This is a peculiar voyage," said Kelle, whose attitude had be-
come one of wry detachment. "At least we have achieved our os-
tensible purpose. The planet exists; it is as Mr. Gersen described
it, and the money in escrow becomes his property."

"Not until we return to Alphanor," growled Detteras.

Gersen spoke to Warweave. "You have taken great pains to
secure this world for yourself. I wonder why."

Warweave shrugged noncommittally.

"A man might want to live here, or build himself a palace,"
suggested Gersen. "A Star King wants none of these things."

Warweave said presently, "You make a common mistake. Men
are after all quite parochial. You forget that individual differences
exist among folk other than yourselves. Some perhaps are denied
the freedom of their own worlds. They become 'renegade': neither
man nor their own kind. The folk of Ghnarumen"—he easily used
the name which sounded like a cough—"are quite as orderly as the
most law-abiding folk of the Oikumene. In short, the career of
Malagate is not one which the folk of Ghnarumen would care to
emulate. They may be right, they may be wrong. It is my prerog-
ative to organize my own style of life. As you know, the Star Kings
are strongly competitive. This world, to men, is beautiful. I find it
pleasant enough. 1 plan to bring here folk of my race, to nurture
them on a world more beautiful than Earth, to father a world and
a people superior to both men and the people of Ghnarumen. This
was my hope, which you will not understand, for there can be no
such understanding between your race and mine."

Detteras said between clenched teeth, "But you took advantage
of our liberality to dishonor us. If Gersen doesn't kill you, I will."

164

TH& DFMON PRINCES

"Neither of you will kill Malagate the Star King." Two steps
took him to the exit port. Detteras lunged after him, frustrating
Gersen's attempt to use his pro)ac. Warweave turned, lashed out
with his foot, kicked Detteras in the stomach, )umped to the
ground, ran off down the slope

Gersen stepped to the exit port, aimed, sent a bolt of energy
unsuccessfully after the bounding figure. He descended the ladder,
gave chase. Warweave reached the meadow, hesitated at the edge
of the river, looked back at Gersen, continued down the valley.
Gersen kept to the upper slopes where the ground was hard, and
began to gain on Warweave, who had come to a marshy area. War-
weave once more went to the nverbank, hesitated. If he plunged
in, before he gained the opposite shore Gersen would be upon him.
He looked back over his shoulder, and his face was no longer that
of a man; Gersen wondered how he could have been fooled even
for an instant. Warweave turned, uttered a cry m a slurred guttural
language, went to his knees, disappeared.

Gersen, reaching the spot, found a hole in the nverbank almost
two feet across. He bent, peered in, but saw nothing. Detteras and
Kelle ran up, panting. "Where is he3"

Gersen pointed to the burrow. "According to Lugo Teehalt,
large white grubs live under the marsh."

"Hmf," said Detteras. "His ancestors evolved in the swamps,
in )ust such holes He probably couldn't want a better haven."

Kelle said dubiously, "He'll have to come out—to eat, to
drink."

"I'm not so sure. The Star Kings dislike human food; men find
the Star King diet equally repellent. We cultivate plants and do-
mesticate animals, they do similarly for worms and insects, such
things as that. Warweave should do quite well on what he finds
underground."

Gersen looked up the valley where Hildemar Dasce had fled.
"I've lost them both. I was willing to sacrifice Dasce to get Mala-
gate—but both .. ."

The three stood on the nverbank. A breeze rippled the surface
of the water, moved the branches of the great dark trees which grew
at the base of the hills. A tribe of dryads wandering along the op-
posite shore turned their purple-green eye smudges on the men.

Gersen said, "Perhaps it's )ust as bad, leaving them together on
this planet, as killing them."

THE STAR KI\G 165

"Worse," said Detteras devoutly. "Worse by far "

They returned slowly to the ship. Pallis Atwrode, sitting on the
turf, rose to her feet as Gersen approached. She seemed not so
much oblivious to the events of the past few minutes as uninter-
ested, unconcerned. She came over to him, took his arm, smiled up
into his face. Her own face was once again vital and fresh.

"Kirth, I like it here, don't you?"

"Yes, Pallis, very much."

"Imagine!" said Pallis in a hushed voice. "A pretty house up
there on the hill. Old Sir Morton Hodenfroe had a beautiful house
up along Blackstone Edge. Wouldn't that be nice, Kirth21 wonder.
I wonder.. . ."

"First we must return to Alphanor, Pallis. Then we'll talk about
coming back."

"Very well, Kirth." She hesitated, then put her arms up to his
shoulders, wistfully searched his face. "Do you still. . are you
still—interested in me? After what happened2"

"Of course." Gersen's eyes felt moist. "WTiat fault was it of
yours?"

"None.. . . But at home, in Lantango, men are very )ealous."

Gersen could think of nothing to say. He kissed her forehead,
patted her shoulders.

Detteras said gruffly, "Well, Gersen, you've made use of Kelle
and myself in a most cavalier fashion. I can't say that I enjoyed it,
but I can't bring myself to resent it, either."

Robin Rampold approached slowly, keeping to the shadow of
the ship. "Hildemar ran away," he said mournfully. "Now he will
make over the mountains to town and I will never see him again."

"He can make over the mountains," said Gersen, "but he won't
find any towns."

"I have been watching up along the hillside, and through the
forest," said Rampold. "I think he is somewhere nearby."

"Very likely," said Gersen.

"It is distressing," said Rampold. "It is enough to sadden a
man."

Gersen laughed. "You would prefer to be back in the cage?"

"No, of course not. But then I had my dreams. Of what I would
do when I won free. Seventeen years of hopes and dreams. But now
I am free and Hildemar is beyond my reach." He moved discon-
solately away.

THF DEMON PRINCES

166

After a pause Kelle said, "As a scientist I find this planet a place
of fascination As a man I find it entrancing As Kagge Kelle, erst-
while colleague of Gyle Warweave—I find it extremely depressing.
I am prepared to leave at any time "

"Yes," said Detteras in a gruff voice "Why not^"

Gersen looked up the valley to where Hildemar Dasce, wearing
only soiled white pantaloons, lurked in the forest like a raging,
desperate beast He looked down the valley, far down over the hazy
plain, then back to the swampy meadow, under which crawled Mal-
agate the Woe He looked down into the face of Pallis Atwrode

She took a deep breath "I can't believe this is real "

"It's real But it's also a dream "

"All the rest seems a dream too. A terrible dream "

"It's over now As if it had never happened "

"I've been.. " She hesitated, frowned "I don't remember too
much "

"Just as well."

Pallis pointed across the meadow "Look, Kirth, what are those
beautiful creatures^"

"Dryads "

"What are they doing out there3"

"I don't know Looking for something to eat, I suppose Lugo
Teehalt says they suck up nourishment from big grubs which bur-
row under the meadow Or perhaps they lay eggs in the soil "

The dryads, wandering up the shore, nourished their gorgeous
fronds, swaying slowly like branches in the wind On the swamp
they moved more slowly, a step at a time One of them stopped,
stood stock still Under its foot showed a glint of white, as the
concealed proboscis plunged down into the soft ground A few sec-
onds passed The ground heaved, erupted the dryad toppled over
backward Up from a crater staggered Warweave, the proboscis still
thrust through his back His face was stained with dirt, his eyes
stared from his head, from his mouth issued a series of appalling
cries He shook himself, fell to his knees, rolled over, disengaged
himself from the fluttering dryad, jumped erect, ran crazily up the
hillside His steps flagged He fell to his knees, clutched at the
ground, kicked and lay still

^Tyie Warweave was buried on the hillside. The group returned to
[he ship Robin Rampold now diffidently approached Gersen "I

<^

the ship Robin Rampold now
have made up my mind to stay here "

hiave madp nn mv mind l-n sl-av here "

THE SIAR A7VG

167

In one part of his brain Gersen was shocked and astonished In
another part there was only confirmation of a previous expectation
"So," said Gersen heavily, "you expect to live on this planet with
Hildemar Dasce "

"Yes "

"Do you know what will happen5 He will make you his slave.
Or he will kill you for the food which I shall be bound to leave
you "

Rampold's face was bleak and drawn "It may be as you say
But I cannot leave Hildemar Dasce "

"Think," said Gersen "You will be here alone He will be more
savage than ever before."

"I hope that you will leave me certain articles a weapon, a
shovel, a few tools to build a shelter, some food "

"And what will you do when the food runs out3"

"I will look for natural food seeds, fish, nuts, roots. These may
be poisonous, but I will test them carefully And what else is left
for me2"

Gersen shook his head. "Far better that you return with us to
Alphanor Hildemar Dasce will take revenge on you "

Robin Rampold said, "It is a chance I must take "

"As you wish "

The ship lifted from the meadow, leaving Rampold standing
beside his meager stack of supplies

The horizons spread out, the planet became a green and blue
ball and fell astern Gersen turned to Kelle and Detteras "Well,
gentlemen, you have visited Teehalt's planet "

"Yes," said Kelle tonelessly "By a roundabout method you
have fulfilled the terms of your agreement, the money is yours "

Gersen shook his head "I don't want the money. I suggest that
we keep the existence of this planet secret, to preserve it from what
could only be desecration "

"Very well," said Kelle "I'm agreed "

"I agree," said Detteras, "provided that I may return another
time, under more relaxing circumstances "

"One further condition," said Gersen "A third of the funds in
escrow were deposited by Attel Malagate I suggest that they be
transferred to Miss Atwrode's account, as some measure of com-
pensation for the wrongs done her at Malagate's orders "

168 THE DF..MON PRINCES

Neither Kelle nor Detteras made objection. Pallis protested
half-heartedly, then acquiesced, and presently became very cheerful.

And astern the yellow-white star became one with the multi-
tude, and presently vanished.

A year later Kirth Gersen returned alone to Teehalt's planet in his
old Model 9B spaceboat.

Hanging in space, he examined the valley by macroscope, but
discovered no signs of life. There was now a projac on the planet
and it might well be in the hands of Hildemar Dasce. He waited
till nightfall and landed the boat on a shelf in the mountains above
the river valley.

The long quiet night came to an end. At dawn Gersen started
down the valley, keeping always to the shelter of the trees.

From far off he heard the sound of an ax. With great care he
approached the sound.

On the edge of the forest Robin Rampold chopped at a fallen
tree. Gersen stealthily moved closer. Rampold's face had filled out.
He looked bronzed and strong and fit. Gersen called his name.
Rampold looked up, startled, searched the dark shadows. "Who is
there?"

"Kirth Gersen."

"Come forth, come forth. No need to steal up so furtively."

Gersen moved to the edge of the forest, looked carefully all
around. "I feared I might find Hildemar Dasce."

"Ah," said Rampold. "No need to worry about Hildemar."

"He is dead?"

"No. He is quite alive, in a little pen I built for him. With your
permission, I will not take you to see him, as the pen is in a private
spot, well hidden from any who might visit the planet."

"I see," said Gersen. "You defeated Dasce, then."

"Of course. Did you ever doubt it? I have much more resource
than he. I dug a pit during the night, built a deadfall. In the morn-
ing Hildemar Dasce swaggered forth, hoping to confiscate my
stores. He fell into it, and I took him captive. Already he has be-
come a changed man." He looked closely into Gersen's face. "You
do not approve?"

Gersen shrugged. "I came to take you back to the Oikumene."

"No," said Rampold. "Never fear for me. I will live out my
days here, with Hildemar Dasce. It is a beautiful planet. I have

THE STAR KING 169

found sufficient food to maintain us, and daily I demonstrate to
Hildemar Dasce the tricks and conceits he taught me long ago."

They wandered down the valley to the previous landing place.
"The life cycle here is strange," said Rampold. "Each form changes
into another, endlessly. Only the trees are permanent."

"So I learned from the man who first found the planet."

"Come, I'll show you Warweave's grave." Rampold led the way
up the slope, to a copse of slender white-timbered trees. To the
side grew a seedling, rather different from the rest. The trunk was
veined with purple, the leaves were dark-green and leathery. Ram-
pold pointed. "There rests Gyle Warweave."

Gersen looked for a moment, then turned away. He gazed up
and down the valley. It was as beautiful and placid and quiet as
before. "Well, then," said Gersen, "I will once more depart. 1 may
never return. Are you sure you wish to stay?"

"Absolutely." Rampold looked up at the sun. "But I am late.
Hildemar will be expecting me. A pity to disappoint him. I will bid
you farewell now." He bowed and departed, crossing the valley and
disappearing into the forest.

Gersen once more looked up and down the valley. This world
was no longer innocent; it had known evil. A sense of tarnish lay
across the panorama. Gersen sighed, turned, stood looking down at
Warweave's grave. He bent, seized the seedling, pulled it from the
soil, broke it, cast it aside. Then he turned and walked up the valley
toward his spaceboat.

The

Killins
Machine

From "How the Planets Trade," by Ignace Wodleckt:

Cosmopolis, September, 1509:

In all commercial communities, the prevalence or ab-
sence of counterfeit money, spurious bills of exchange,
forged notes-of-hand, or any of a dozen other artifices to
augment the value of blank paper is a matter of great con-
cern. Across the Oikumene, precise duplication and repro-
ducing machines are readily available; and only meticulous
safeguards preclude the chronic debasement of our cur-
rency. These safeguards are three: first, the single negotia-
ble currency is the Standard Value Unit, or SVU, notes for
which, in various denominations, are issued only by the
Bank of Sol, the Bank of Rigel, and the Bank of Vega. Sec-
ond, each genuine note is characterized by a 'quality of au-
thenticity.' Third, the three banks make widely available the
so-called fake-meter. This is a pocket device that, when a
counterfeit note is passed through a slot, sounds a warning
buzzer. As all small boys know, attempts to disassemble the
fake-meter are futile; as soon as the case is damaged, it
destroys itself.

Regarding the 'quality of authenticity' there is naturally
a good deal of speculation. Apparently in certain key areas,
a particular molecular configuration is introduced, resulting
in a standard reactance of some nature: electrical capacity?
magnetic permeability? photo-absorption or reflectance?
isotopic variation? radioactive doping? a combination of

174 THE DEMON PRINCES

some or all of these qualities? Only a handful of persons
know and they won't tell.

Gersen first encountered Kokor Hekkus at the age of nine.
Crouching behind an old barge, he watched slaughter, pillage, en-
slavement. This was the historic Mount Pleasant Massacre, notable
for the unprecedented cooperation of the five so-called Demon
Princes. Kirth Gersen and his grandfather survived; five names be-
came as familiar to Gersen as his own: Attel Malagate, Vtole Fa-
lushe, Lens Larque, Howard Alan Treesong, Kokor Hekkus. Each
had his distinctive quality. Malagate was insensate and grim, Viole
Falushe gloried in sybaritical refinements, Lens Larque was a meg-
alomaniac, Howard Alan Treesong a chaoticist. Kokor Hekkus was
the most mercurial, fantastic, and inaccessible, the most daring and
inventive. A few folk had reported their impressions: uniformly they
found him affable, restless, unpredictable, and infected with what
might have seemed utter madness, except for his demonstrable con-
trol and strength. As to his appearance, all had different opinions.
He was, by popular repute, immortal.

Gersen's second encounter with Kokor Hekkus occurred in the
course of a routine mission Beyond, and was indecisive—or so it
seemed at the time. In early April of 1525, Ben Zaum, an official
of the IPCC,* arranged a clandestine interview with Gersen and
proposed a stint of "weaseling"—that is to say, an IPCC investi-
gation Beyond. Gersen's own affairs had come to a standstill; he
was bored and restless, and so agreed at least to listen to the prop-
osition.

The job, as Zaum explained it, was simplicity itself. The IPCC
had been commissioned to locate a certain fugitive: "Call him 'Mr.
Hoskins,' " said Zaum. So urgently required was Mr. Hoskins that
at least thirty operatives were being despatched to various sectors
of the Beyond. Gersen's job would be to survey the inhabited lo-
calities of a certain planet: "Call it 'Bad World,' " said Zaum, with
a knowing grin. Gersen must either locate Mr. Hoskins or establish
as a definite certainty7 that he had not set foot on Bad World.

Gersen reflected a moment. Zaum, who reveled in mystifica-

*IPCC—Intemorld Police Coordination Company in theory, a private organization pro-
viding the police systems of the Oikumene specialized consultation, a central information
file, cnminological laboratories, in practice, a supergovernmental agency occasionally func-
tioning as a law in itself

THE KILLING MACHINE

17')

tion, on this occasion seemed to be outdoing himself. Patiently
Gersen began to chip away at the exposed part of the iceberg, hop-
ing to float new areas into view. "Wliy only thirty weasels? To do
the Job right, you'd need a thousand."

Zaum's wise expression gave him the semblance of a large blond
owl. "We've been able to narrow the area of search. I can say this
much, Bad World is one of the likelier spots—which is why I want
you to take it on. I can't overemphasize how important all this is."

Gersen decided he didn't want the job. Zaum had determined—
or was under orders—to maintain as much reticence as possible.
Working in the dark irritated Gersen, distracted him, and so re-
duced his effectiveness—which meant that he might not return
from the Beyond. Gersen wondered how to turn down the job with-
out alienating Ben Zaum and so drying up a pipeline into the IPCC.
"What if I found Mr. Hoskins?" he asked.

"You have four options, which I'll name in order of decreasing
desirability. Bring him to Alphanor alive. Bring him to Alphanor
dead. Infect him with one of your horrible Sarkoy mind-drugs. Kill
him outright."

"I'm no assassin."

"This is more than simple assassination! This is—confound it,
I'm not permitted to explain in detail. But it's truly urgent, I assure
you of this!"

"I don't disbelieve you," said Gersen. "Still, I won't—in fact, I
can't—kill without knowing why. You'd better get someone else."

Under normal circumstances, Zaum would have terminated the
interview, but he persisted. Gersen thereby was given to understand
that either qualified weasels were hard to come by or that Zaum
regarded his services highly.

"If money is any object," said Zaum, "I think I can arrange—"

"I think I'll pass this one up."

Zaum made a half-serious display of beating his forehead with
his fists. "Gersen—you're one of the few men whose competence
I'm sure of. This is a murderously delicate operation—if, of course,
Mr. Hoskins visits Bad World, which I myself think is likely. I'll
tell you this much: Kokor Hekkus is involved. If he and this Mr.
Hoskins make contact—" He flung up his hands.

Gersen maintained his attitude of disinterest, but now all was
changed. "Is Mr. Hoskins a criminal?"

176 THE. DEMON PRINCES

Zaum's bland brow creased in discomfiture. "I can't go into
details."

"In that case, how do you expect me to identify him?"

"You'll get photographs and physical characteristics; this should
suffice. The job is perfectly simple. Find the man: kill him, confuse
him, or bring him back to Alphanor."

Gersen shrugged. "Very well. But since I'm indispensable I
want more money."

Zaum made a peevish complaint or two. "Now as to definite
arrangements: when can you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"You still keep your spacecraft?"

"If you call the Model 9B Locater a spacecraft."

"It gets you there and back, and it's suitably inconspicuous.
Where is it docked?"

"At Avente Spaceport, Area C, Bay 10."

Zaum made a note. "Tomorrow go to your spaceship, make
departure. The ship will be provisioned and fueled- The monitor
will be coded to Bad World. You will find a folder with information
regarding Mr. Hoskins in your Star Directory. You need only per-
sonal effects—weapons and the like."

"How long am I to search Bad World?"

Zaum heaved a deep sigh. "I wish I could tell you. I wish I
knew what was going on. ... If you don't find him within a month
after arrival, it's probably too late. If we only knew for sure where
he was going, what were his motivations. .. ."

"I gather he's not a known criminal then."

"No. He's lived a long, useful life. Then he was approached by
a man named Seuman Otwal, who we suspect to be an agent of
Kokor Hekkus. Mr. Hoskins, according to his wife, thereupon
seemed to go to pieces."

"Extortion? Blackmail?"

"In these circumstances—impossible."

Gersen was able to elicit no more information.

Arriving at Avente Spaceport somewhat before noon of the fol-
lowing day, Gersen found matters as Zaum had stated. Boarding
the spartan little spacecraft, he went first to the Star Directory,
where he found a manila envelope containing photographs, plus a
printed description. Mr. Hoskins was shown in various costumes,
headgear, and skin-toning. He appeared a man in his late maturity,

THE KILLING MACHINE 177

with a big loose body, affable large eyes, a wide mouth with heavy
teeth, a small rapacious nose. Mr. Hoskins was an Earthman: so
much was clear from his clothes and skin-toning, which were gen-
erally similar but different in detail to those of Alphanor. Gersen
put the folder aside, reluctantly decided against a visit to Earth,
where he probably could identity Mr. Hoskins. Such a detour would
take too much time—and undoubtedly get him into the IPCC's
blackbook. He made a final check of the boat, called Port Control
for departure processing.

Half an hour later, Alphanor was a shining orb astern. Gersen
engaged the monitor, and watched as the nose of the boat swept
across the sky, finally to point in a direction sixty degrees off the
baseline between Rigel and Sol.

The Jarnell Coverdrive now seized the ship, or, more accu-
rately, created conditions where a few pounds of thrust caused near-
instantaneity of transfer.

Time passed. Random photons curling and seeping through the
Jarnell laminae entered the ship, to allow the outside universe to
be seen: stars by the hundreds and thousands, drifting past like
sparks on the wind. Gersen kept a careful astrogational record, fix-
ing on Sol, Canopus, and Rigel. Presently the ship crossed the sep-
aration between the Oikumene and the Beyond, and now law,
order, civilization had no formal existence. Projecting the line of
travel, Gersen finally was able to identify Bad World: Carina LO-
461 IV in the Star Directory, Bissom's End in the terminology of
Beyond. Henry Bissom was seven-hundred-years dead; the world,
or at least the region surrounding the principal town Skouse, was
now the preserve of the Windle family. Bad World was no mis-
nomer, thought Gersen; in fact, should he put down at Skouse with-
out good reason—offhand he could think of none—he would
without fail be picked up by the local platoon of the Deweaseling
Corps.* He would be rigorously questioned. After which, if he were
lucky, he would be allowed ten minutes to leave the planet. Ifwea-
seling were suspected, he would be killed. Gersen thought harsh
thoughts concerning Ben Zaum and his overelaborate secrecy. Had
he known his destination, he might conceivably have set up some
kind of cover.

The single intei-world organization of Be\ond, existing only to identify and destroy un-
dercover agents of the IPCC

17S THE DRMON PRINCES

Ahead a greenish-yellow star of no great luminosity clung to
the crosshairs, waxing brighter and larger. Presently the intersplit
kicked off; ether collapsing in upon the ship sighed and shuddered
through all the atoms of ship and Gersen himself: a sound to set
the teeth on edge, but which perhaps wasn't even real.

The old Model 9B coasted through space. Nearby hung Bis-
som's End—Bad World. It was a smallish planet, cold at the poles,
with a chain of low mountains forming a cincture of the equator,
like a weld joining the two hemispheres. To north and south ran
belts of sea, shallowing somewhere near 50 degrees latitude to bay-
ous and jungles, beyond which were swamps and morasses all the
way to the permafrost.

On a windy plateau sat the town Skouse, an irregular huddle of
dingy stone buildings. Gersen was puzzled. Why would Mr. Hos-
kins want to come to Bissom's End? Far more pleasant refuges
existed- Brinktown was almost gay.. . . But he was taking too much
for granted: Mr. Hoskins might never come near Bissom's End,
with the whole mission a mare's nest; indeed, Zaum had emphasized
as much.

Gersen examined the planet under the macroscope, finding lit-
tle of interest. The equatorial mountains were dusty and barren,
the oceans were gray and mottled with the shadows of low scudding
clouds. He turned his attention back to Skouse, a town of perhaps
three or four thousand population. Nearby was a scorched field
bordered by sheds and warehouses; evidently the spaceport. No-
where were luxurious mansions or castles to be seen, and Gersen
remembered that the Windles inhabited caves in the mountains
behind the town. A hundred miles to east and west, evidences of
habitation finally dwindled to wilderness. There was a single other
town, beside a dock extending into the North Ocean. Nearby was
a metal-processing plant, so Gersen deduced from slag tailings and
several large buildings. Elsewhere the planet showed no signs of
human occupation.

If he could not visit Skouse overtly, he must do so surrepti-
tiously. He picked out an isolated ravine, waited till evening shad-
ows crossed the area, then settled as swiftly as possible.

He spent an hour adjusting to the atmosphere, then stepped
out into the night. The air was cool; like that of almost every planet
it had a distinctive tang, to which the nostrils quickly become
dulled: in this case a bitter chemical exhalation mixed with some-

THE KILLING MACHINE

179

thing like burnt spice, the one apparently derived from the soil, the
other from the native vegetation.

Gersen invested himself with various tools of the weasel trade,
winched down his platform flyer, set forth to the west.

The first night Gersen reconnoitered Skouse. The streets were un-
paved and aimless; there was a commissary, several warehouses, a
garage, three churches, two temples, and a tramway with spindly
tracks leading down toward the ocean. He located the inn; a square
three-story structure built of stone, fiber panels, and timber. Skouse
was a dull town, exuding a sense of boredom, sluggishness, and
ignorance; Gersen assumed the population to have little more status
than serfdom.

He concentrated his attention on the inn, where Mr. Hoskins,
if he were present, would almost certainly take up residence. He
was unable to find a window to look through; the stone walls re-
sisted his eavesdrop microphone. And he dared not speak to any of
the patrons who at various times during the night staggered out
and away through the twisting streets of Skouse.

The second night he had no better success. However, across
from the inn, he found a vacated structure: apparently at one time
a machine-shop or fabricating plant, but now given over to dust
and small white insects unnervtngly like minuscule monkeys. Here
Gersen ensconced himself and through the entirety of the greenish-
yellow day kept watch upon the inn. The life of the town moved
past him; dour men and stolid women wearing dark jackets, loose
flapping trousers of brown or maroon, black hats with upturned
brims, went about their affairs. They spoke in a broad flat dialect
that Gersen could never hope to imitate; so died a tentative plan
to secure native-style garments and enter the inn. In the late after-
noon, strangers came into town: spacemen by their costumes, from
a ship that apparently had only Just landed. Gersen fought off
drowsiness with an antisleep pill. As soon as the sun descended,
bringing a mud-colored twilight, he left his hiding place and hur-
ried through the dim streets to the spaceport. Sure enough, a large
cargo-ship had put in and was now discharging bales and crates
from its hold. Even as Gersen watched, three members of the crew
left the ship, crossed the floodlit fore-area, showed passes to the
guard at the wicket, and turned down the road toward town.

180

THE DEMON PRINCKS

Gersen joined them. He gave them "Good evening," which
they returned with civility, and inquired the name of their ship.
"The Ivan Garfang^ he was told, "out of Chalcedon."
"Chalcedon, Earth?"

"The same."
The youngest of the group asked, "What kind of a town is

Skouse? Any fun to be had?"

"None," said Gersen. "There's an inn, and very little else. It's
a dull town and I'm anxious to depart. Are you carrying passen-
gers?"

"Aye, we've one aboard, and room for four more. Five, should
Mr. Hosey disembark, as I believe is his plan. Though for what
purpose he comes here—" the youth shook his head in incompre-
hension.

So, thought Gersen, it was to be as easy as that. Who could

Mr. Hosey be but Mr. Hoskins? And now, where did Kokor Hekkus
fit into the picture? He led the three spacemen to the inn and
entered with them, by all appearances their shipmate and, so, secure
against deweaseler suspicion.

Gersen cemented the association by calling for a round of
drinks. There was nothing to be had but beer, which was thin and
sour, and a white pungent arrack.

The interior of the inn was cheerful enough, with the tradi-
tional bar, and fire blazing in the fireplace. A barmaid wearing a
limp red smock and straw slippers served the drinks. The youngest
of the spacemen, who called himself Carlo, made overtures, to
which the maid responded with a look of uncomprehending con-
fusion.

"Leave her alone," advised the oldest of the spacemen whose
name was Bude. "She's not all there." He tapped his forehead sig-
nificantly.

"All the way we come, to the back of Beyond," grumbled Carlo,

"and the first woman we spy is a half-wit."

"Leave her for Mr. Hosey," suggested Haivy, the remaining
spaceman. "If he disembarks, he'll have a long, dull time of it."

"Some sort of scientist?" asked Gersen. "Or a journalist? They
sometimes choose to visit odd places."

"Devil knows what he is," said Carlo. "He hasn't spoken more
than two words the entire trip."

The conversation changed. Gersen would have liked to talk

THE KJLIJNG I\'L4CHINE

181

more of Mr. Hosey, but dared not ask questions, which Beyond
almost always implied a sinister aftermath.

A number of locals had entered the inn, and stood before the
fire drinking pints of beer at a gulp, and talking in their flat voices.
Gersen took the bartender aside and inquired regarding accom-
modation.

The bartender shook his head. "It's been so long since we've
housed anyone that our beds are all stale. You'll do better back on
your ship."

Gersen looked across the room to Carlo, Bude, and Halvy.
They showed no disposition for imminent departure. He turned
back to the bartender. "Is there someone to run an errand to the
ship for me?"

"There's a boy in the back who might oblige."

"I'll speak to him."

The boy was duly summoned: a blank-faced youth, the son of
the bartender. Gersen tipped him liberally and made him repeat
three times the message he wished delivered. "I'm to ask for Mr.
Hosey and say he's wanted at the inn immediately."

"Correct. Be quick now, and there may be more money for
you. Remember, give the message to none but Mr. Hosey himself."

The boy departed. Gersen waited a moment, then sauntered
from the inn, and followed the boy to the spaceport, keeping well
to the rear.

The boy was known to the guard at the spaceport, and after a
word or two was allowed onto the field- Gersen approached as close
as he dared, and standing in the shadow of a tall bush watched and
waited.

Several minutes passed. The boy emerged from the ship—
alone. Gersen grunted in disappointment. When the boy came out
into the road, Gersen accosted him. Startled, the boy yelped and
sprang away.

"Come back here," said Gersen. "Did you see Mr. Hosey?"

"Yes sir, so I did."

Gersen brought out a photograph of Mr. Hoskins, flashed a
light. "This gentleman here?"

The bov squinted. "Yes sir. The very same."

"And what did he say?"

The boy glanced sidewise, whites of his eyes gleaming. "He
asked if I knew Billy Windle."

182

THE DEMON PRINCES

"Billy Windle, eh?"

"Yes sir. And of course I don't. Billy Windle's a hormagaunt.
He said to tell you, if you were Billy Windle, to come to the ship.
I said no, vou were a spaceman. And he said he'd deal with none
but Billy Windle himself and in person."

"I see. And what's a hormagaunt?"

"That's what we call them here. Maybe on your world you've
a different name. They're the folk who soak up other folk's lives
and then go off to live on Thamber."

"Billy Windle lives on Thamber?"

The bov nodded earnestly. "It's a real world, never think dif-
ferent. I know, because the hormagaunts live there."

Gersen smiled. "As well as dragons and fairies and ogres and
Underlings."

The boy said dolefully, "You don't believe me."

Gersen brought forth more money. "Return to Mr. Hosey. Tell
him that Billy Windle waits for him in the road, and bring him out
here to me."

The boy's eyes rolled in awe. "Are you Billy Windle?"

"Never mind who I am. Go give Mr. Hosey the message."

The boy returned to the ship. Five minutes later, he came down
the gangramp followed by Mr. Hosey—who was quite definitely
Mr. Hoskms. They set forth across the field.

But now^ floating down through the dark sky came a whirling
disk of red and blue lights, which swooped and settled to the
ground. It was a sumptuous flying car. decorated in the most elab-
orate fashion, with colored lumes, golden scrolls, and fluttering
fronds of green and gold. The rider was a slim, long-legged man
with muscular shoulders, as flamboyantly dressed as his boat. His
face was tinted black-brown; his features were flexible, regular,
youthful; he wore a tight turban of white cloth with a pair of ro-
guish tassels hanging by his right ear. He was charged with nervous
vitality; jumping to the ground, he seemed to bounce.

The boy and Mr. Hoskins had halted; the newcomer walked
swiftly across the field. He spoke to Mr. Hoskins, who seemed sur-
prised and gestured questioningly toward the road. This must be
Billy Windle, thought Gersen, gritting his teeth in frustration. Billy
Windle glanced toward the road, then made an inquiry of Mr. Hos-
kins, who reluctantly seemed to assent, and tapped his pouch. But
in the same motion he produced a weapon, which he displayed to

THE KILLING M.4CHINE

183

Billy Windle in a nervous truculent fashion, as if to emphasize that
he trusted no one. Billy Windle merely laughed.

Where did Kokor Hekkus enter the picture? Was Billy Windle
one of his agents? There was a simple and direct way to find out.
The guard at the gate was watching the confrontation with fasci-
nated attention. He did not hear Gersen come up behind him; he
felt nothing as Gersen struck him a deft blow, which instantly in-
duced unconsciousness. Gersen donned the guard's cap and cape,
marched officiously toward Billy Windle and Mr. Hoskins. They
were engaged in a transfer: each held an envelope. Billy Windle
glanced toward Gersen, waved him back toward the gate, but Ger-
sen continued to approach, trying to appear obsequious. "Back to
your post, guard," snapped Billy Windle. "Leave us to our affairs."
There was something inexpressibly dire in the poise of his head.

"Pardon me, sir," said Gersen. He jumped forward, clubbed at
Billy Windle's gorgeous headgear with his projac. As Billy Windle
staggered and fell, Gersen raked Mr. Hoskins' arm with a low-
charge jolt, jarring loose his weapon.

Mr. Hoskins cried out in pain and astonishment. Gersen
scooped up Billy Windle's envelope, reached for that which Mr.
Hoskins held. Mr. Hoskins staggered back, then as Gersen raised
his projac, halted.

Gersen shoved him toward Billy Windle's air-car. "Quick. Get
aboard. Or I'll punish you."

Mr. Hoskins' legs were rubbery; lurching and tottering, he
moved at a shambling trot to the air-car. As he climbed aboard, he
tried to stuff the envelope into his shirt; Gersen reached, snatched;

the envelope tore; there was a brief struggle and Gersen held half
the envelope, with the other half somewhere on the ground under
the boat. Billy Windle was staggering to his feet. Gersen could
delay no longer. The air-car controls were standard; he thrust the
lift-arm far across. Billy Windle shouted something Gersen could
not hear, then, as the air-car slanted up, brought forth his projac,
fired. The bolt sang past Gersen's ear, cut diagonally across Mr.
Hoskins' head. Gersen fired back as the air-car swung across the
sky, but the range was long and he merely kicked up a blaze of
lambent dust.

High above Skouse, he swerved, flew west, settled beside his
spaceboat. He carried the corpse of Mr. Hoskins aboard, and aban-
doning the bedizened air-car, took the Model 9B into space. He

THE DEMON PRINCES

184

engaged the intersplit and now was safe: no known human effort
could intercept him. Mission accomplished in a workmanlike fash-
ion, without undue exertion: Mr. Moslems killed and en route to
Alphanor, as per instructions. In short, sheer routine. Gersen
should have been pleased, but this was not the case. He had learned
nothing, succeeded with nothing; nothing except the paltry business
for which he had been sent to Bissom's End. Kokor Hekkus had
been involved in the affair; with Mr. Hoskins dead, Gersen would
never know why or how.

The corpse was a problem. Gersen dragged it into the rear
locker, shut the door on it.

He brought forth the envelope he had taken from Billy Windle,
opened it. Within was a sheet of pink paper on which someone had
written in florid purple ink. The message was titled: How to become
a hormagaunt. Gersen raised his eyebrows: Jest? Somehow he did
not think so. Gersen read the instructions with a small frisson of
horror tickling at his neck. They were unpleasant.

Aging is pursuivant to a condition in which the ichors of
youth have been exhausted: so much is inherently obvious.
The hormagaunt will desire to replenish himself with these
invaluable elixirs from the most obvious source: the persons
of those who are young. The process is expensive unless
one has access to a sufficient number of such persons, and
in this case he proceeds in the following fashion:

Instructions followed:

From the bodies of living children, the hormagaunt must
procure certain glands and organs, prepare extracts, from
which a waxy nodule might ultimately be derived. This
nodule implanted in the hormagaunt's pineal gland forfends
age.

Gersen put the letter aside, and inspected the fragment he had
wrenched from Mr. Hoskins. It read:

—crimps, or more properly, bands of density. These ap-
parently occur at random, though in practice they are so
casual as to be imperceptible. The critical spacing is in

THE KILLING MACHINE 185

terms of the square root of the first eleven primes. The
occurrence of six or more such crimps at any of the des-
ignated locations will validate—

Gersen found the reference incomprehensible, but vastly intriguing:

what had Mr. Hoskins known so valuable that it might be traded
on an even basis for the secret of perpetual youth?

He examined again the horrid directions for becoming a hor-
magaunt, and wondered if they were sound. Then he destroyed
both sets of instructions.

At Avente Spaceport, he called Ben Zaum byvisiphone. "I'm back."

Zaum raised his eyebrows. "So soon?"

"There was no reason to delay."

Thirty minutes later Zaum and Gersen met in the vestibule to
the spaceport's waiting room. "Where is Mr. Hoskins?" Along with
the delicate emphasis on the Hoskins, he gave Gersen a look of
narrow inquiry.

"You'll need a hearse. He's been dead for some time. Since
before I left Bad World—as you identified it."

"Did he—what were the circumstances?"

"He and a man called Billy Windle had struck some sort of a
bargain, but they could not come to terms. Windle seemed very
disappointed and killed Mr. Hoskins. I managed to recover the
body."

Zaum gave Gersen a glance of mild suspicion. "Did any papers
change hands? In other words, did Windle derive any information
from Hoskins?"

"No."

"You're sure of this?"

"Absolutely."

Zaum was still not completely at ease. "This is all you have to
report?"

"Isn't it enough? You have Mr. Hoskins, which is what you
wanted."

Zaum licked his lips, glanced at Gersen from the corners of his
eyes. "You found no papers on his body?"

"No. And I want to ask you a question."

Zaum heaved a deep dissatisfied sigh. "Very well. If possible,
I'll answer."

THE DEMON PRINCES

1S6

"You mentioned Kolcor Hekkus. How does he come into the
matter?"

Zaum deliberated a moment, scratching his chin. "Kokor Hek-
kus is a man of many identities. One of them is, or so we have been
informed, Billy Windle."

Gersen nodded sadly. "I feared as much. ... I missed my op-
portunity. It may never come again. . . . Do you know what a hor-
magaunt is?"

"A what?"

"A hormagaunt. It seems to he an immortal creature who lives
on Thamber."

In a measured voice Zaum said, "1 don't know what a horma-
gaunt is and all I know about Thamber is 'set your course by the
old Dog Star till faring past the verge extreme, dead ahead shines
Thamber's gleam'—however the song goes."

"You forgot the line after 'old Dog Star': 'A point to the north

ofAchernar.' "

"No matter," said Zaum. "I never found the Land of Oz ei-
ther." He sighed lugubriously. "I suspect that you're not telling me
the whole story. But—"

"But what?"

"Be discreet."

"Oh indeed."

"And be sure that if you thwarted Kokor Hekkus in one of his
schemes you will meet him again. He never repays a favor and never
forgets a wrong."

From Introduction to The Demon Princes, by Caril Car-
phen (Elucidarian Press, New Wexford, Aloysius,

Vega):

It may well be asked how, from so many thieves, kid-
napers, pirates, slavers, and assassins within- and beyond the
Pale, one can isolate five individuals and identify them as
'Demon Princes.' The author, while conceding to a certain
degree of arbitrariness, can nevertheless in good conscience
define the criteria that in his mind establish the Five as
arch-fiends and overlords of evil.

First: the Demon Princes are typified by grandeur.
Consider the manner in which Kokor Hekkus gained his
cognomen 'The Killing Machine,' or Attel Malagate's
'plantation' on Grabhorne Planet (a civilization of his own
definition), or Lens Larque's astounding monument to him-
self, or Vtole Falushe's Palace of Love. Certainly these are
not the works of ordinary men, nor the results of ordinary
vices (though Viole Falushe is said to be physically vain,
and in certain exploits of Kokor Hekkus there is the
quaintly horrid quality of a small boy's experiments with an
insect).

Second: these men are constructive geniuses, motivated
not by malice, perversity, greed, or misanthropy, but by
violent inner purposes, which are for the most part
shrouded and obscure. Why does Howard Alan Treesong
glory in chaos? What are the goals of the inscrutable Attel
Malagate, or that fascinating flamboyant Kokor Hekkus?

188 THE DEMON PRINCES

Third: each of the Demon Princes is a mystery; each
insists on anonymity and facelessness. Even to close asso-
ciates these men are unknown; each is friendless, loveless
(we can safely discount the self-indulgences of the sybarit-
ical Viole Falushe).

Fourth: and obverse to the aforementioned, is a quality
best to be described as absolute pride, absolute self-
sufficiency. F.ach considers the relationship between himself
and the balance of humanity as no more than a confron-
tation of equals.

Fifth: and ample in itself, I cite the historic conclave of
1500 at Smade's Tavern (to be discussed in Chapter One)
where the five acknowledged themselves, grudgingly per-
haps, as peers, and denned their various areas of interest.
Ipsi dixeunt!

Such was Gersen's second encounter with Kokor Hekkus. The
aftermath was a period of depression, during which Gersen spent
long mornings and afternoons on the Avente Esplanade, gazing out
over the Thaumaturge Ocean. For a period, he had considered a
return to Bissom's End—but the project seemed rash and almost
certainly pointless: Kokor Hekkus would not stay long at Bissom's
End. Gersen must somehow make a new contact.

This was a resolve easier to form than to implement. Hair-
raising anecdotes by the dozen circulated regarding Kokor Hekkus,
but specific information was rare. The reference to Thamber was
new, but Gersen gave it small consideration: it could hardly be
more than the fantasy of an imaginative boy.

Time passed—a week, two weeks. Kokor Hekkus received men-
tion in the news as the presumptive kidnaper of a Copus, Pi Cas-
siopeia VIII, mercantilist. Gersen was mildly surprised; the Demon
Princes seldom kidnaped for ransom.

Two davs later came news of another kidnaping, the scene on
this occasion being the Hakluz Mountains of Orpo, Pi Cassiopeia
VII; the victim a wealthy packer of sour-spore. Again Kokor Hek-
kus was reputedly involved: indeed only the possible participation
of Kokor I lekkus made the not uncommon crimes noteworthy.

Gersen's third encounter with Kokor Hekkus arose directly, if
deviously, as a result of the kidnapings; and indeed the kidnapings

THE KILLING MACHINE 189

themselves followed as a reverse or backhanded consequence to
Gersen's success at Skouse.

The chain of events was expedited by chance. One midmorning
Gersen sat on a bench halfway along the Esplanade; an elderly man,
with the pale blue skin-toning, black jacket, and beige trousers of
middle-class gentility, took a seat on the other end of the bench.
Some minutes later he muttered an expletive, threw aside his news-
paper, and looking toward Gersen expressed indignation in regard
to the lawlessness of the times. "Another kidnaping, another in-
nocent person whisked off to Interchange! Why cannot these
crimes be halted? What is the constabulary about? They warn per-
sons of means to caution. What a sorry condition!"

Gersen expressed whole-hearted agreement, but said that he
knew no effective solution to the problem other than making illegal
the private ownership of spacecraft.

"Wily not?" demanded the old man. "I possess no spaceship,
nor do I feel the need to do so. At best they are instruments of
frivolity and ostentation; at worst they facilitate the commission of
crime, and especially kidnaping. Look you—" he tapped the news-
paper "—ten kidnapings, all made possible by the spaceship!"

"Ten?" asked Gersen in surprise. "So many?"

"Ten in the last two weeks, all persons of extreme wealth and
worth. The ransoms go Beyond, to enrich rascals; it is money dis-
sipated in space, a loss to us all!" He went on to remark that moral
values had deteriorated since his youth; that respect for law and
order had reached an all-time nadir; that only the most inept or
unlucky criminal suffered for his acts. To exemplify his convictions,
he cited a man he had seen only the day previously, a man whom
he recognized as an associate of the notorious Kokor Hekkus, who
almost certainly was responsible for at least one of the kidnapings.

Gersen expressed shock and surprise. Was the old man sure of
his facts?

"Yes indeed! There is no doubt whatever! I never forget a face,
even though, as in this case, it has been eighteen years."

Gersen's interest began to wane; the old man continued re-
gardless. Certainly, thought Gersen—or almost certainly—this old
man could not be a plant by Kokor Hekkus.

"—at Pontefract on Aloystus, where I served as Chief Notator
of the Inquisition. He appeared before the Guldounerie, and, as I

^ HE DEMON PRINCES

190

recall, displayed a remarkably insolent attitude, considering the
gravity of the charges "

"And what were these7" Gersen asked

"Disbursion with intent to suborn ransackment, illicit posses-
sion of antiquities, and revilery His arrogance was justified, for he
evaded all punishment save admonition It was evident that Kokor
Hekkus had intimidated the panel "

"And you saw this man yesterday3"

"Beyond question He passed me on the Route Shdeway, pro-
ceeding north toward Sailmaker Beach. If by sheer chance I notice
this single unregenerate, calculate the number of those I fail to

observe'"

"A serious situation," Gersen declared. "This man should be
placed under observation You do not remember his name5"

"No What if I did3 By all odds it is neither the name he used
then nor the name he uses now."

"He has a distinctive appearance3"

The old man frowned "Not notably His ears are rather large,
as is his nose. His eyes are round and close together He is not so
old as I However I have heard that the folk of the Fomalhaut planet
mature late, owing to the nature of their food, which clabbers the
bile "

"Ah He was a Sandusker "

"He asserted as much, in an extraordinary fashion I can only
describe as vainglory "

Gersen laughed politely. "You have a remarkable memory You
think then that this Sandusk criminal lives in Sailmaker Beach3"

"Why not3 It is where such unorthodox folk tend to collect "

"True enough " After a few further remarks, Gersen rose to
his feet and took his leave

The Route Slideway ran north, paralleling the Esplanade, then
curved through the LoSasso Tunnel to terminate at Mansh Square
in Sailmaker Beach Gersen was moderately well acquainted with
the area, standing in the square and looking up toward Melnoy
Heights, he could almost see the house where Hildemar Dasce at
one time had resided And Gersen's thoughts for a moment became
tinged with melancholy   . He brought himself back to the matter
at hand Tracing down a nameless Sandusker It was a problem
rather different from that of locating Beauty Dasce, who once seen
could never be forgotten

THE KILLING MACHINE

191

Surrounding the square were low thick-walled structures ofco-
quina concrete, color-washed white, lavender, pale-blue, pink In
the Rigel-hght they glowed as if incandescent, emitting tones and
overtones of color, the windows and doorways by contrast showing
the most intense and utter of blacks Along one side of the square
ran an arcade housing shops and booths catering principally to tour-
ists Sailmaker Beach with its enclaves of off-world peoples, each
with its typical shops and restaurants, was like nowhere else in the
Oikumene, with the possible exception of one or two districts on
Earth At a kiosk, Gersen bought a Guide to Sailmaker Beach It
contained no mention of a Sandusker quarter He returned to the
kiosk The proprietress was a short, fat, in fact almost globular,
woman with skin tinted chalk-green perhaps a Krokmole Imp.

Gersen asked, "Where do the Sanduskers quarter themselves3"

The woman considered "Not many Sanduskers that I know of
Down the foot ofArd Street you'll find a few Been requested there
because the wind blows the smell of the victuals out to sea "

"Where is their food-shop3"

"Should you call it food I call it rubbish You're not a San-
dusker3 No. I see not It's there on Ard Street. Turn down through
there—see the two crypt-men in the black cloaks3 Right past where
they stand that's Ard Street Hold your nose "

Gersen returned the Guide to Sailmaker Beach, which at once
was placed back in stock Gersen crossed the square, stepped around
the two pale men in long black cloaks, and entered Ard Street: an
alley rather than a street, running on a slight downhill slant all the
way to the water In the first block were tea houses and curtained
game-rooms exuding a rather pleasant odor of incense Then Ard
Street passed through a drab section infested by small sloe-eyed
children wearing long gold ear chains, red and green shirts to the
navel, and little else Then approaching the waterfront, Ard Street
widened, to become a small court at the sea wall Gersen suddenly
understood the pertinence of the advice given him by the fat woman
of the kiosk The air of Ard Court smelled richly indeed, with a
heavy sweet-sour organic reek that distended the nostrils. Gersen
grimaced and went to the shop from which the odors seemed to
emanate Taking a deep breath and bowing his head, he entered
To right and left were wooden tubs, containing pastes, liquids, and
submerged solids, overhead hung rows of withered blue-green ob-
jects the size of a man's fist At the rear, behind a counter stacked

192

THE, DEMON PRINCES

with limp pink sausages stood a clown-faced youth of twenty, wear-
ing a patterned black and brown smock, a black velvet headkerchief.
He leaned upon the counter without spirit or vitality, and without
expression watched Gersen sidle past the tubs.

"You're a Sandusker?" asked Gersen.

"What else?" This was spoken in a tone Gersen could not iden-
tify, a complex mood of many discords: sad pride, whimsical malice,
insolent humility. The youth asked, "You wish to eat?"

Gersen shook his head. "I am not of your religion."

"Ha ho!" said the youth. "You know Sandusk then?"

"Only at second-hand."

The youth smiled. "You must not believe that old foolish story,
that we Sanduskers are religious fanatics who eat vile food rather
than flagellate ourselves. It is quite incorrect. Come now. Are you
a fair man?"

Gersen considered. "Not unusually so."

The youth went to one of the tubs, dipped up a wad of glisten-
ing black-crusted maroon paste. "Taste! Judge for yourself! Use
your mouth rather than your nose!"

Gersen gave a fatalistic shrug, tasted. The inside of his mouth
seemed first to tingle, then expand. His tongue coiled back in his
throat.

"Well?" asked the youth.

"If anything," said Gersen at last, "it tastes worse than it

smells."

The youth sighed. "Such is the general consensus."

Gersen rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do you
know all the Sanduskers of the neighborhood?"

"I do."

"I seek a tall man with eyes slightly crossed, who has lost a
finger, with hair leaving the rear of his head like a comet's tail."

The youth smiled placidly. "His name?"

"I do not know."

"That would seem to be Powel Darling. He has returned to
Sandusk."

"I see. Well, no matter. The money will revert to the provincial
treasury."

"Sad. What money is this?"

"A bequest to two Sanduskers who obliged an eccentric old

THE KILLING MACHINE

193

woman. The other is no longer conveniently at hand, or so I am
told."

"And who is the other?"

"I am told that he departed Alphanor last month."

"Indeed?" The youth seemed to ruminate. "Who could it be?"

"Again I do not know his name. A man of late middle age with
large ears, a large nose, and eyes closely spaced."

"That might be Dolver Cound. But he is still here."

"W^hat! Are you certain?"

"Oh yes. Go to the sea-wall, knock at the second door to the
left."

"Thank you."

"It is customary to pay for delicacies consumed on the prem-
ises."

Gersen parted with a coin, and left the shop. The air in Ard
Court seemed almost fresh.

The sea-wall ran perpendicular to Ard Street; twenty feet below
the ocean, translucent and shot like a star sapphire with Rigel-rays,
eased up and down. Gersen turned left and halted at the second
door: the entrance to a narrow-fronted cottage of the usual lumpy
coquina concrete.

Gersen rapped at the door. From within came a halting step.
The door slowly opened; Dolver Cound looked forth; a man some-
what older and heavier than Gersen had expected, with a round
flushed face and cyanotic lips. "Yes?"

Gersen stepped forward. "I'll come in, if I may." Cound uttered
a dismal bleat of protest, but gave way. Gersen looked around the
room. They were alone. The furnishings were dingy; a worn purple
and red rug covered the floor, and on the cooker steamed Dolver
Cound's noon meal. Gersen's nostrils twitched involuntarily.

Cound, recovering his poise, took a deep breath and thrust out
his chest. "What is the meaning of this intrusion? What or whom
do you seek?"

Gersen gave him a look of hard contempt. "Dolver Cound—
for eighteen years you have evaded the punishment due your
crimes."

"What's this?"

Gersen brought forth an identification tablet, similar to an
IPCC blazer, with his photograph under a translucent seven-

THE DEMON PRINCES

194

pointed star. He touched it to his forehead; the star flashed into
light. Dolver Cound watched in loose-mouthed fascination.

"I am a member of the Executive Arm of the New Dispensation
at Pontefract, Alovsius, Vega Third. Eighteen years ago you en-
countered a faulty trial before the Guldouncrie. 1 now declare you
under restraint. You must return for a new hearing."

Cound stammered excitedly, and finally in a high-pitched voice
cried, "You have no jurisdiction, no authority' Further I am not
the man you seek!"

"No? Who must I apprehend? Kokor Hekkus?"

Cound licked his purple lips, glanced toward the door. "Go.
Never return. I want nothing to do with you."

"What of Kokor Hekkus?"

"Speak no such names to me!"

"It is either you or he who must settle the score. At the moment
he is unavailable. You must come. I give you ten minutes to pack."

"Ridiculous! Nonsense! Sheer balderdash!"

Gersen shifted his proJac into plain sight, fixed Cound with a
hard stare. Cound, suddenly bluff and hearty, said, "Come now!
Let us consider a moment, to learn where you have made your
mistake. Sit! This is our custom! Wi\\ you drink?"

"Sandusk brew? Thank you: no."

"I can serve less tasty stuff: Sea Province arrack!"

Gersen nodded. "Very well."

Cound went to a shelf, took down a bottle, a tray, a pair of
glasses, poured drinks. Gersen stretched, yawned as if inattentive.
Cound very7 slowly brought forward the tray, took one of the
glasses. Gersen took the other, scrutinized the clear liquid, seeking
the faint roil which w^uld indicate the presence of another liquid,
or grains of undissolved powder. Cound watched slyly. He would
take suspicion for granted, thought Gersen, and would expect a
change of glasses.

"Drink!" said Cound and raised his glass. Gersen watched him
with interest. Cound put clown the glass untouched.

"Do you not care to drink?" Gersen took his glass, mingled the
two drinks, returned the glass to Cound. "Drink first."

"Never before a guest. I would feel shame."

"I cannot drink before my host. But no matter; we will both
drink during the trip to Pontefract. Since you do not care to pack,
let us be off."

THE KILLING MACHINE

195

Cound's face crumpled and sagged with woe. "I will go no-
where with you. You cannot force me. I am an old man; not in the
best of health. Have you no pity?"

"It's either you or Kokor Hekkus; these are my instructions."

Cound looked toward the door. "Do not speak that name!" he
said in an agonized croak.

"Tell me what you know of him."

"Never."

"Then come. Bid Rigel farewell; your sun henceforth will be
Vega."

"I did nothing! Do you know no reason?"

"Tell me what you know of Kokor Hekkus. We would prefer
him to you."

Cound drew a deep breath, closed his eyes. "So be it," he said
at last. "If I tell you all I know, must I still return to Aloysius?"

"I promise nothing."

Cound sighed. "What I know is little enough. . . ." For two
hours he asserted the casual quality of his association with Kokor
Hekkus: "I was falsely accused; even the Guldounerie panel came
to realize this!"

"All surviving members of this panel are under punitive re-
straint: we are taking a cumulative vengeance. Come now: the truth!
I am far from satisfied!"

Cound eventually slumped into a chair and declared himself
ready to talk. First however he professed a need for certain notes
and memoranda. He went to fetch papers from a drawer, but
brought forth a weapon. Gersen, waiting with projac ready, blasted
it from his hand. Cound turned slowly, eyes round and wet. He
swung his numb arm, staggered to a seat, and now spoke without
further evasion. Indeed, he became verbose, almost explosive with
information, as if inhibition had been completely dissolved. Yes,
eighteen years ago he had assisted Kokor Hekkus in certain oper-
ations on Aloysius and elsewhere. Kokor Hekkus had been anxious
to obtain certain antiquities. On Aloysius they had raided Creary
Castle, Bodelsey Abbey, and the Houl Museum. During the latter
operation, Cound had been apprehended by the Sons of Justice; but
Kokor Hekkus made certain arrangements, and the Guldounerie
panel dismissed Cound with an admonition. Thereupon his asso-
ciation with Kokor Hekkus became less active, dissolving ten years
ago.

196 THP; DF.MON PRINCES

Gersen pressed for details. Cound waved his arms helplessly.
"What is his appearance? He is a man, like us all. There is nothing
about him to describe. He is of average size, of good physique, of
unknown age. His voice is soft, though when he is angry, it comes
as if he were talking through a tube from a far world. He is a strange
man: polite when it pleases him, more often indifferent. He is fas-
cinated by beautiful objects, by antiquity, and by intricate machines.
You know how he derived his name?"

"This is a story I have never heard."

"It means 'Killing Machine' in the language of a secret world
far out Beyond. This world had been settled in ancient days, then
lost and forgotten until Kokor Hekkus rediscovered it. To punish
the folk of an enemy town, he built a giant metal executioner, which
split bodies in half with an ax. As dreadful as the ax was the scream
the metal ogre emitted with ever)' stroke. And thereafter Kokor
Hekkus was so known. . . . This is all I know."

"A pity you cannot tell me how to locate him," said Gersen.
"Either you or he must answer to the authorities at Pontefract."

Cound sat back, limp as a broken bladder. "I have told all," he
mumbled. "What can be served by visiting vengeance upon me?
Will the antiques be restored?"

"Justice must be satisfied. Unless you can deliver Kokor Hekkus
into my hands, you must pay for your Joint misdeeds."

"How can I provide Kokor Hekkus?" asked Cound in the drea-
riest of voices. "I hesitate even to speak his name."

"Who are his associates?"

"I don't know. It has been years since last I saw him. In those
days—" Cound paused.
' "Well?"

Cound licked his blue lips. "It could be of no interest to the
Pontefract authorities."

"HI be the judge of that."

Cound heaved a deep sigh. "I cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

Cound made a small, hopeless gesture. "I do not want to be
killed in some horrible fashion."

"What do you think awaits you at Pontefract?"

"No! I cannot talk further."

"You have been able to conquer these apprehensions during
the last hour."

THE KILLING MACHINE 197

"Everything I told you is a matter of public knowledge," said
Cound ingenuously.

Gersen smiled, and rose to his feet. "Come."

Cound made no move. Finally he said in a low voice, "I knew
three men who worked with Kokor Hekkus. There was Ermin
Strank, Rob Castilltgan, and a man they called Hombaro. Strank
was native to the Concourse, which planet I do not know. Castil-
ligan was from Vega's Boniface. I know nothing about Hombaro."

"Have you seen them recently?"

"Certainly not."

"You have photographs?"

Cound would admit to none, and sat watching in limp resent-
ment as Gersen moved here and there around the room, investi-
gating the obvious spots where Cound might keep mementos. After
a moment or two Cound said spitefully, "If you knew anything of
Sandusk, you would expect no photographs. We face the future,
not the past."

Gersen desisted from his search. Cound was squinting at him
reflectively; during Gersen's search he had taken time to think.
"May I ask, what is your rank?"

"Special agent."

"You are no Aloysian. Where is your throat-hole?"

"No matter."

"If you go around asking questions about Kokor Hekkus, even-
tually he will find out about it."

"Tell him yourself, if you have a mind to."

Cound uttered a short bark of a laugh. "No, no, my lad. Even
if I knew where to complain, I would not. I want no more acquain-
tance with terror."

Gersen said thoughtfully, "I shall now take all your money, and
throw your vile food into the sea."

"What?" Cound's face once more became lachrymose.

Gersen went to the door. "You're a miserable lump of abso-
lutely nothing: not even worth the effort of punishing. I go now.
Consider yourself fortunate."

Gersen departed the house, returned up Ard Street to Marish
Square, rode the slideway south to Avente. He was by no means
happy with the results of his day's work. There was further knowl-

THE DEMON PRINCES

198

edge in Dolver Cound, had he either craft or cruelty sufficient to
extract it. What had he learned?

Kokor Hekkus had been so named by the folk of a secret
planet.

Ten years ago, three men named Ermin Strank, Hombaro,
and Rob Castilligan had served Kokor Hekkus.

Kokor Hekkus was fascinated by intricate machines; he
cherished beauty; he valued the works of antiquity.

Gersen had lodgings on a high floor of the Credenze Hotel. On
the day following his interview with Dolver Cound, he arose before
Rigel had cleared the Catiline Hills, stained his skin the currently
fashionable grayed-buff, dressed in somber dark green, departed the
hotel by a side entrance. In the subway system, he voided all pos-
sibility of tracker or stick-tight, then took himself to Cort Tower
Station. An elevator lifted him to the foyer, where he transferred
to a small one-man capsule. As the door slid shut, a voice inquired
his name and destination. Gersen supplied the information and
added his IPCC Clearance Code. There were no further questions;

the car lofted him thirty floors high, moved him laterally, dis-
charged him into the office of Ben Zaum. This was a two-room
suite beside the tower's transparent west wall, with an all-inclusive
view south over the city and down the coast to Remo. Shelves along
another wall held a variety of trophies, curios, weapons, and world-
globes. By the evidence of his office, Zaum was a man high in the
IPCC organization; how high Gersen did not precisely know: the
title "Mandator, Umbria Division" might mean much or little.

Zaum greeted Gersen with cautious cordiality. "You're here
looking for work, I take it. How do you spend all your money?
Women? Hardly a month ago you were paid fifteen thousand
SVU—"

"I need no money. To be candid, I want information."

"Free? Or do you want to commission us?"

"WTiat's information regarding Kokor Hekkus worth?"

Zaum's wide blue eyes narrowed innnitesimally- "To us or from
?"

us

"In both directions."

Zaum reflected. "He's currently on the red list.. . . Officially

THE KILLING MACHINE

199

we don't even know whether he's alive or dead, unless someone
gives us a commission."

Standard whimsy once more, which Gersen acknowledged with
a polite smile. "Yesterday I learned the derivation of his name."

Zaum nodded offhandedly. "I've heard the tale. Rather grisly.
Might well be fact. Incidentally, to keep you from going stale"—
he opened a drawer—"the deweaselers tripped up a man on Palo,
and turned him over to Kokor Hekkus. He was returned to us in
a condition I won't describe. Kokor Hekkus also sent a message."
Zaum read from a slip of paper. " 'A weasel performed an unpar-
donable act at Skouse. The creature you have herewith is fortunate
in comparison with the weasel of Skouse. If he is a brooding man,
let him come Beyond and announce himself. I swear that the next
twenty weasels captured will thereupon go free.' "

Gersen gave a sickly grin. "He is angry."

"Extremely angry, extremely vindictive." Zaum hesitated a mo-
ment. "I wonder—well, if he would keep his promise?"

Gersen raised his eyebrows. "You suggest that I turn myself
over to Kokor Hekkus?"

"Not precisely, not exactly—well, think of it like this: it would
be one man's life for twenty, and weasels are hard to come by—"

"Only the inept are deweaseled," said Gersen. "Your organi-
zation is the sounder for their loss." He reflected a moment. "But
your suggestion has a certain merit. Why not identify yourself as
the man who planned the operation, and ask if he will spare fifty
men for the two of us?"

Zaum winced. "You can't be serious. What is your interest in
Kokor Hekkus?"

"That of an altruistic citizen."

Zaum arranged and rearranged several old striped bits of
bronze on his desk. "I'm another. What's your information?"

There was nothing to be gained by evasiveness, which Zaum
would be certain to sense. "Yesterday I heard three names—men
who worked for Kokor Hekkus ten years ago. They may or may
not be in your files."

"What are the names?"

"Ermin Strank. Rob Castilligan. Hombaro."

"Race? World? Nationality?"

<t! don't know."

Zaum yawned, stretched, looked out across Avente. The day

THE DEMON PRINCES

200

was sunny but full of wind; far out over the Thaumaturge Ocean
hung great tumbles of cumulus. After a moment of placid reflection,
Zaum swung back around to his desk. "I've nothing much better
to do at the moment."

He touched various pads at the console beside his desk. The
wall opposite vibrated with a million flickers of white light, then
flashed to impart a message:

KRMIN STRANK
Item 1 of 5 entries

with a coded set of physical characteristics below. To the left ap-
peared a photograph with a list of aliases; to the right was a resume
of Ermin Strank's (Item 1) life and wwks. A native of Quantique,
sixth planet of Alphard the Lonely, a specialist in smuggling con-
traband drugs into the Wakwana Islands, Ermin Strank (Item 1)
had never left his native planet. "The wrong Strank," said Gersen.

Ermin Strank (Item 2) appeared. Superimposed in dim pink was
the information: Deceased, and the date March 10, l')15.

Ermin Strank (Item 3) had his habitat far across the Oikumene,
on Vadilov, single planet of Sabik, or Eta Ophiuchi. He was cur-
rently active as a receiver of stolen goods. Like Ermin Strank (Item
1) he had never traveled far from his native world, except for two
years at Durban on Earth in the apparently legitimate capacity of
warehouse-worker.

Ermin Strank (Item 4) was a short spindly knob-headed man of
early middle age, red-haired, of truculent mien, incarcerated at Kil-
larney, Vega System's penal satellite, where he had spent the pre-
vious six years.

"That's the man," said Gersen.

Zaum nodded briskly. "An associate of Kokor Hekkus, you
say?"

"So I understand."

Zaum touched pads on his console. Ermin Strank's (Item 4)
resume was augmented by the notation: Reportedly associate of Kokor
Hekkus.

Zaum looked questioninglv at Gersen. "Anything more on
Strank?"

"I think not."

Next on the screen appeared a succession of Hombaros, the

THE KILLING MACHINE 201

most likely of which had disappeared from view eight years previ-
ously and was presumed dead,

The files boasted eight Rob Castilligans. The Rob Castilligan
who had robbed Creary Castle, Bodelsey Abbey and Houl Museum,
among other premises, was deary Item 2. There was a recent no-
tation to the resume that brought Gersen to attention: five days
previously, in the Garreu Province of Scythia, halfway around Al-
phanor, he had been arrested for complicity in a kidnaping.

"A versatile fellow, this Castilligan," remarked Zaum. "You're
interested in the kidnaping?"

Gersen acknowledged as much; Zaum brought details to the
screen. Seized had been the two children of Duschane Audmar, a
Ninety-fourth Degree fellow of the Institute, reputedly of great
wealth. They had been sailing on a lake with their tutor. A surface
glider swooped across the water, halting beside the boat. The chil-
dren were taken, the tutor escaped by diving from the boat and
swimming away under water. He had summoned the constabulary,
which had acted with great efficiency. Rob Castilligan had been
apprehended almost immediately, but two other men had won free
with the children. The father, Duschane Audmar, had remained
aloof, taking no interest in the affair. The children presumably
would be taken to Interchange, where they might be recovered
upon "rescission" of their "fees" (to use the special Jargon of In-
terchange).

Zaum's interest was now fully aroused. He sat back, inspected
Gersen with open curiosity. "I take it that you're acting for Aud-
mar?"

Gersen shook his head. "A fellow of the Institute? You should
know better."

Zaum shrugged. "He's only Ninety-fourth Degree. He might
be waiting for a few more degrees before he goes divine."

"If he were Sixty or Seventy, perhaps. Ninety-four is pretty
high."

Zaum had thought to detect evasiveness in Gersen. "Then
you're not interested in this kidnaping?"

"I'm interested. But this is the first I've heard of it."

Zaum's lips pursed swiftly in and out. "The question comes to
mind, of course... ."

He was speculating, so Gersen realized, upon the possible in-

202 THE DKMON PRINCKS

volvement of Kokor Hekkus in the matter. He turned to the con-
sole pads. "Let's see what Castilligan has to say."

There was a delay of rive minutes while Zaum spoke to various
members of the Garreu Province Constabulary, another two
minutes while Castilligan was brought forward and placed before
the screen. He was a dapper, handsome man, with a smooth easy-
natured face, sleek black hair varnished against his scalp. His skin-
tone had been washed off; his skin was a marmoreal white. His
manner was polite, even cordial, as if he were an honored guest
rather than prisoner at the Garreu Carcery. Zaum introduced him-
self, Gersen remained to the side, beyond the scope of the out-lens.
Castilligan seemed amused at the attention he was receiving.
"Zaum of the Ipsys. All on account of poor little me." He spoke
with the engaging lilt of a Boniface Bogtrotter. "Well then, what
can I do for you, beyond baring my life's secrets?"

"That will suffice," said Zaum drily. "How did you happen to
be caught?"

"Folly. I should have departed Alphanor with the others. But I
chose to remain. The Beyond bores me. I'm a man with a taste for
the niceties."

"You'll be quite nicely taken care of."

Castilligan shook his head, with detached and impersonal re-
gret. "Yes, it's a shame. I could apply for modification, except that
I enjoy myself the way I am, vices and all. I'd be a tiresome fellow
modified."

"Your option, of course," said Zaum. "Still, it's not too bad, if
you happen to enjoy the open air."

"No," said Castilligan earnestly. "I've thought it all out, and
it's too much like death. Dear engaging Rob Castilligan disappears
and with him all joie de tivre, all the light of the world; then in
stumps tiresome honest Robert Meachum Castilligan, dull as dish-
water, who wouldn't steal meat for his starving grandmother. With
any luck I'll be back from the satellite in five years or perhaps less."

"Evidently you plan to cooperate with the authorities?"

Castilligan winced impudently. "As little as I decently can, and
still get my gold star."

"Who were your confederates in the Audmar kidnaping?"

"Come, sir. You can't expect a man to tattle on his cronies.
Have you never heard of honor among thieves?"

THE KILLING MACHINE

203

"Don't talk about honor," said Zaum. "You're no better than
the rest of us."

Castilligan admitted as much. "In fact, I have already bared my
soul to the constabulary."

"The names of your confederates?"

"August Wey, Pyger Symzy."

"Kokor Hekkus did not participate directly?"

Castilligan's mouth indented suddenly at the corners. Once
more he essayed whimsy. "Now then—why ever should you men-
tion a name like that? We're talking reality."

"I thought I heard you mention gold stars for your record."

"Indeed I did!" declared Castilligan. "But not a gold wreath
for my gravestone."

"Suppose," said Zaum casually, "that through your assistance
we laid our hands on Kokor Hekkus. Can you imagine the lovely
gold star? You'd be elected Honorary Director of the IPCC."

Castilligan blinked sidelong, chewed thoughtfully on his
tongue. "You have a commission against Kokor- Hekkus?"

"Even if we don't, we could hold him for the highest bidder
and earn a fortune. There's fifty-five planets wanting the color of
Kokor Hekkus' insides."

Castilligan bared white teeth in a sudden dazzling grin. "Well,
truth to tell, I've nothing to hide, because nothing I know could
offend Kokor Hekkus. He is as you know, and I can't change the
picture."

"Where is he now?"

"Beyond, or so I should think."

"He worked with you on the Audmar kidnaping?"

"He did not, unless he called himself another name. In truth,
I've never seen Kokor Hekkus as a man. It's always been 'Rob, do
this' and 'Rob, do that' by one or another stealthy means. It's a
secretive creature, this Kokor Hekkus."

"In the old days, you plundered museums and the like. WTiy?"

"Because I was paid to do so. He wanted antiquities, and noth-
ing would do but that daring Rob must rob the sources. Long ago,
of course. My salad days, so to speak."

"WTiat of these other kidnapings? How many have you worked
on?"

Castilligan made a delicate face. "I don't care to say. It might
prejudice my record."

204 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Very well. How many do you know of?"

"Recently, about fourteen. By recently I mean in the last
month."

^Fourteen!^

Castilligan smiled his gay smile. "Yes, it's a going concern. I've
asked myself why and wherefore, but"—he shrugged—"who am I
to read the mind of Kokor Hekkus? No doubt he, like everyone
else, needs money."

Zaum turned Gersen a side-glance, stopped the audio pickup.
Gersen said, "What else does he know concerning Kokor Hekkus?"

Zaum relayed the question. The prisoner put on a fretful face.
"You play damnably fast and loose with my health. Suppose I told
you enough that Kokor Hekkus were inconvenienced—be sure I
know nothing of the sort, but assume so—do you think His Horrors
would feel kindly toward me? He would learn the dark side to my
soul, he would ply me with fears and terrors and all the very ills I
dread the most. A man must have some regard for his skin; if he
does not, who will?"

"Needless to say, what you tell us will not be communicated to
Kokor Hekkus," said Zaum smoothly.

"Bah! So you say. A man sits beside you this very instant; I saw
you look at him. For all either of us can say, it is Kokor Hekkus
himself who shares your office."

"You don't seriously believe this,"

Again Castilligan's mood changed. "No. I do not. Kokor Hek-
kus is Beyond, or so I believe, spending the vast sums he has earned
this last month or two."

"Spending how? For what?"

"As to that, I can't say. Kokor Hekkus is old—some say three
hundred years, some four hundred—but he maintains a young
man's energy. There is no lack of enthusiasm to the man."

After a short pause, Zaum asked: "If you are not acquainted
with Kokor Hekkus—how can you know of this?"

"I have heard him speak. I have heard him plan. I have heard
him curse. He is changeable, fickle, elusive as a Bernal flame-
maiden. He is completely generous, completely cruel—in both
cases because he knows no one's mind but his own. He is a terrible
enemy, not a bad master. I talk of him like this because it can do
him no harm and may help me. But I would never risk offending
him. He invents new and special terrors for this very purpose. Yet,

THE KILLING MACHINE

205

should 1 serve him well, he will build me a castle and make me
Robert, Baron Castilligan."

"And where will he perform this romantic fantasy?" sneered
Zaum.

"Beyond."

"Beyond," grumbled Zaum. "Always Beyond. Sornedaywe will
sweep past the Pale and make an end to Beyond."

"You will never succeed. There will always be a Beyond."
"Never mind. What else do you know of Kokor Hekkus?"
"I know he will be kidnaping other rich men's sons and daugh-
ters. He has said as much; he needs a vast sum of money and needs
it at once."

3

From Chapter I, "The Astro-physical Background," in
Peoples of the Concourse, by Streck and Chernitz:

It is Rigel, that magnificent star among stars, whose
prodigious luminosity and spacious Zone of Habitability has
afforded the Concourse its existence. Impossible not to
marvel at the sheer grandeur of the system! Think of it!
Twenty-six salubrious worlds swinging in stately thousand-
year orbits around the dazzling white sun, at a mean radius
of thirteen billion miles, not to mention the six oft-ignored
planets of the incandescent Inner Belt, and Blue Compan-
ion, a fortieth of a light-year to the side!

But the very circumstances that make the Concourse
what it is provide one of the galaxy's most tantalizing mys-
teries. Rigel is deemed by most authorities a young star,
ranging in age from a few million to a billion years. How
then to explain the Concourse, which when Sir Julian Hove
arrived, already displayed twenty-six mature biological
complexes? By the time-scale of terrestrial evolution, Con-
course life is several billion years old—assuming such life
to be autochthonous.

But is such an assumption warranted? While the flora
and fauna of each planet differ markedly, there are at the
same time a number of suggestive similarities—almost as if
Concourse life, long, long ago, had a common origin.

There are as many theories to the situation as theorists.
The dean of modern cosmologists, A. N. der Poulson, has
ingeniously proposed a situation where Rigel, Blue Com-

THE KILLING MACHINE

panion, and planets condensed from a gas already rich in
hydrocarbons, thereby giving life a headstart, so to speak.
Others, indulging in fanciful nights, have wondered if the
planets of the Concourse were not conveyed hither and es-
tablished in these optimum orbits by a now-dead race of
vast scientific achievement. The regularity and spacing of
the orbits, the near-uniform size of the Concourse planets,
as contrasted with the disparities of the Inner Worlds, give
such speculations a measure of plausibility. Why? When?
How? Who? The Hexadelts? Who carved Monument Cliff
on Xi Puppis X? Who left the incomprehensible mecha-
nism in Mystery Grotto of Earth's Moon? Fascinating rid-
dles yet to be answered. . . .

Xaviar Skolcamp, Over-Centennial Fellow of the Insti-
tute, in a discursive mood, discusses Institute attitudes with
a journalist:

"Humanity is old, civilization new: the mesh of cogs is
by no means smooth—and this is as it should be. Never
should a man enter a building of glass or metal, or a space-
ship, or a submarine, without a small shock of astonishment;

never should he avoid an act of passion without a small
sense of effort. ... We of the Institute receive an intensive
historical inculcation; we know the men of the past, and we
have projected dozens of possible future variations, which,
without exception, are repulsive. Man, as he exists now,
with all his faults and vices, a thousand gloriously irrational
compromises between two thousand sterile absolutes—is
optimal. Or so it seems to us who are men."

Farmer hauled before constabulary court after attack
upon the person ofBose Coggindell, Fellow of the Institute,
54th Degree, in self-justification:

"These chaps have it easy. They lean back in their
chairs and say, 'Suffer, you'll love it. Do it the hard way.
Sweat.' They'd like me to hitch my wife to a plow, the way
it used to be done. So I showed him what I thought of what
he calls 'detachment.' "

208 THE DEMON PRINCES

Justice (after fining farmer 75 SVU):

"A detached attitude toward the problems of others is
not illegal."

Of the seven Alphanor continents, Scythia was the largest, the
most sparsely populated, and in the opinion of the folk of Umbria,
Lusitania and Lycia, the most bucolic. Garreu Province, fronting
the Mystic Ocean and backed up into the Morgan Mountains, was
the most isolated region of Scythia.

To Taube, a drowsy sun-struck village on the shores ofJermin
Bay, came Gersen in the bi-weekly air-ship from the provincial
capital Marquari. In the whole town, he found but a single vehicle
to be rented: an ancient glide-car with rumbling bearings and a
tendency to slew sideways downslope. Gersen inquired directions,
climbed aboard the car, and set forth along the inland road. Up a
long slope he climbed, with the shimmering Rigel-light drowning
the landscape in brilliance.

For a space, the road wound back and forth through vineyards,
orchards of gnarled fruit trees, patches of blue-green kale and ar-
tichoke, thickets of native berries. Here and there were farm cot-
tages, each with its parasol roof absorbing Rigel energy. The road
swung up over a low ridge; Gersen halted to take his bearings. To
the south spread the ocean, the foreland sloping up from the bay,
the spatter of dun and pink and white that was Taube. In the blaze
of light, all the colors of the landscape were unreal pastels, shim-
mering and dancing. Ahead the road swung over to a level area,
where Gersen saw the villa of Duschane Audmar, Ninety-fourth
Degree Fellow of the Institute. It was a rambling structure of stone
and sun-bleached timber, shaded by a pair of enormous oaks and a
native ginkgo.

Gersen walked up the driveway, lifted and let fall a huge bronze
knocker in the shape of a lion's paw. After a long wait the door was
opened by a handsome young woman wearing a peasant smock.

"I have come to speak to Duschane Audmar," said Gersen.

The woman surveyed him thoughtfully. "May I inquire your
business?"

"I'll have to take that up with Lord Audmar himself."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't think he'll see you. There
have been domestic difficulties and Duschane Audmar is not re-
ceiving."

THE KILLING MACHINE 209

"My visit concerns these difficulties."

The woman's expression changed to sudden wild hope. "The
children? They have been returned? Oh tell me!"

"I'm sorry—but not to my knowledge." Gersen took a note-
book from his pocket, tore off a leaf, wrote: Kirth Gersen, llth
Degree, to discuss Kokor Hekkns. "Take that to him."

The woman read the note, without a word departed within.

Presently she was back. "Come." Gersen followed her along a
dim hall to a vaulted room with bare white plaster walls. Here sat
Audmar with a pad of white paper, a quill pen, a cut-glass bottle of
mulberry-colored ink. The paper was blank except for a single line
in the looping heavily shaded cursive affected by high fellows of the
Institute. Audmar was a rather short man, square-shouldered, firm-
fleshed. He had crisp well-shaped features: a small straight nose,
narrow black eyes glittering like oil, a compressed mouth over a
cleft chin. He greeted Gersen evenly, put aside paper, pen and ink.
"Where did you come into Eleven?"

"At Amsterdam, on Earth."

"That would be under Carmand's control."

"No. It was von Bleek, just previous to Carmand."

"Hmm. You were young. Why did you not proceed? After
Eleven, there is no great difficulty until the Twenty-seventh."

"I could not submerge my personal goals to those of the Insti-
tute."

"And as to these goals?"

Gersen shrugged. "They are uncomplicated, primitive enough
to satisfy a Centennial, but centripetal."*

Audmar's eyebrows rose into skeptical arcs, but he dropped the
subject. "Why do you wish to discuss Kokor Hekkus?"

"It is a subject in which we both are interested."

Audmar nodded curtly. "An interesting man, agreed."

"Last week he kidnaped your children."

Audmar sat silently for thirty seconds. It was clear that he had
not known the identity of the kidnaper. "WTiat is the basis for this
statement?"

"I have had an admission from the man who was captured: Rob
Castilligan, now in the carcery."

"Centripetal tending toward centralization or codification, by extension, tending to a kind
of fussy officiousness Institute )argon

THE DEMON PRINCES

210

"Your status is official7"

"No I have no status "

"Continue."

"Presumably you desire the safe return of the children "

Audmar smiled thinly "Presumption "

Gersen ignored the ambiguity "Have you received notice of
how to effect their safe return3"

"By ransom. The message came two days ago "

"Will you pay it3"

"No " Audmar's voice was soft and easy

Gersen had expected nothing else Centennials and near-
Centennials were forced to maintain impassivity to any and all ex-
ternal pressures Should Duschane Audmar ransom his children, he
would thereby admit to pliability, he would thus lay himself and
the Institute open to exterior persuasion The policy was well-
known, for the tenth time Gersen wondered why Duschane Audmar
had been molested Had he on some earlier occasion revealed flex-
ibility3 Had the kidnapers merely blundered3

Gersen asked, "You knew that Kokor Hekkus was involved3"

"No "

"Now that you know, will you take steps against him3"

Audmar gave a small petulant shrug, as if Gersen should realize
that punitive measures were as flagrant an instability as paying ran-
som

"To be completely candid," said Gersen, "I have reason to re-
gard Kokor Hekkus as an enemy I am not restricted as you are, I
can implement my feelings "

In Audmar's eyes appeared a quick gleam of something like
envy, but he only gave his head a polite inclination

"I come to you for information," said Gersen, "and, I hope,
whatever cooperation you see fit to provide "

"This will be very little, or none," said Audmar

"Still, you are human and you must love your children Cer-
tainly you do not wish to see them sold into slavery, as they will
be"

Audmar smiled, a bitter tremulous smile "I am human, Kirth
Gersen, probably more savage and primitive in my humanity than
yourself But I am a Ninety-fourth, I have too much strength, I
must be careful how I apply it Hence—" He made a gesture in-
dicating a whole complex of ideas

THE K1LLI\G MAC HIM 211

"Stasis3" suggested Gersen

Audmar forbore to answer the ube He said c\enly, "Regarding
Kokor Hekkus I know nothing—or at least no more than what is
common knowledge "

"Currently," said Gersen, "he seems the most active of the
Demon Princes He creates vast misery "

"He is a vile creature "

"Do }ou know why Kokor Hekkus took your children3"

"I presume to obtain money "

"How much ransom does he ask3"

"A hundred million SVU "

Gersen, startled, had nothing to say Audmar smiled grimly
"Not that my little Daro and Wix aren't worth as much and a great
deal more "

"You could pay this much3"

"If I chose. Money is no problem " Audmar turned back toward
the pad and the quill pen, Gersen sensed that his patience was
wearing thin "In this last month," said Gersen, "Kokor Hekkus
has kidnaped at least twenty persons, perhaps more This was the
last reckoning made by the IPCC before I left Avente The victims
are all people of great wealth and power "

"Kokor Hekkus becomes rash," said Audmar indifferently

"Exactly What are his purposes3 Why, suddenly, does he need
such vast sums of money3"

Audmar's interest was aroused Then, sensing the direction of
the argument, he darted Gersen a sudden sharp glance

Gersen said, "Kokor Hekkus seems to have some large pro)ect
in mind. I don't think he plans to retire "

"Not after two hundred and eighty-two years "

It occurred to Gersen that Audmar knew rather more concern-
ing Kokor Hekkus than he pretended "It seems that Kokor Hekkus
has expenses of two billion SVU—assuming that all the ransoms
run as high as the one assessed against you Why does he need the
money3 Is he building a fleet of warships3 Is he reconstructing a
planet3 Is he founding a university3"

Audmar heaved a deep wistful sigh "You believe he has some
large and possibly dystrophic end in view3"

"Why else would he suddenly require so much money3"

Audmar frowned, shook his head fretfully "It would be a shame

212 THE DEMON PRINCES

to thwart Kokor Hekkus. But from my point of view, and also In-
stitute policy. . ." His voice dwindled to nothing.

"They are at Interchange3"

"Yes."

"Perhaps you are unfamiliar with Interchange procedure. First
travel time is calculated, to which fifteen days is added; during this
period only the so-called party of primary interest may rescind the
fee After this time elapses, anyone who wishes may do so. If I had
a hundred million SVU, I could do so."

Audmar studied him a moment. "Why should you wish to do

"I want to know why Kokor Hekkus needs so much money. I
want to learn many things about Kokor Hekkus."

"Your motives, I take it, are not dispassionate curiosity3"

"My motives are beside the point. What I can do is this. If I
were to come into possession of a hundred million SVU, plus my
expenses, I would proceed to Interchange and, as a free agent, take
custody of your children. Incidentally, how old are they3"

"Daro is nine, Wix is seven."

"Meanwhile I would try to ascertain Kokor Hekkus' motives,
his goals, and his current whereabouts."

"And then?"

"After learning as much as possible, I would bring you your
children and if you were interested, report to you what I had
learned."

Audmar's face was utterly expressionless. "What is your current
address?"

"I am at the Hotel Credenze, in Avente."

Audmar rose to his feet. "Very well. You are an Eleventh. You
know what must be done. Find why Kokor Hekkus needs this large
sum of money. He is an inventive and imaginative man—a constant
source of wonder. The Institute finds him remarkable and regards
certain by-products of his evil rewarding. I can say no more."

Gersen left the room without further ado. In the quiet main
hall, he found the woman who had admitted him. She turned him
a glance of searching inquiry. Gersen asked, "You are the mother
of the children7"

She made no direct answer. "Are they—are they well?"

"I would think so. Will you give me photographs3"

She went to a shelf. The boy was smiling, the girl was grave.

THE KILLING MACHINE 213

The woman could not trust herself to speak aloud, and so spoke in
a half-whisper. "WTiat will happen to them3"

Gersen suddenly realized that she took him to be a represen-
tative of the kidnapers. Hovi did one disclaim such an imputation
before it had been spoken3 He said awkwardly, "I know very little
of the matter; that is, I'm not personally involved. But I hope that
somehow. . .." The only words he could think of were either mean-
ingless or overly explicit.

She went on. "I know how it is, that we must detach ourselves.
. . . But it seems hardly fair to the little ones. If there were some-
thing I could do. . ."

'T don't like to raise your hopes," said Gersen, "but perhaps
your children will be returned."

She said simply, "I will be grateful."

Gersen went from the cool dim house, out into the sudden
blaze of the garden. The afternoon was quiet; when he started the
old slide-car, the rumble of the engine seemed intrusively loud.
Gersen was glad to put the house ofDuschane Audmar behind him.
For all its magnificent prospect, for all the charm of its design, it
was a house of silence and sternly repressed emotion, where anger
and grief must be borne m secret. "WTiich is why I never went into
Twelfth," Gersen told himself.

Three days later, a package was delivered to Gersen at the Cre-
denze Hotel. Opening it he found within eighteen packets of fresh
Bank of Rigel notes, totaling one hundred and one million SVU.
Gersen tested them with his fake-meter: all were genuine.

Gersen immediately checked out of his hotel, rode by subway
to the spaceport, where his battered old 9B Locator awaited him.
An hour later, he had departed Rigel and was in space

4

From The Moral Essence of Civilization, by Calvin V.
Calvert:

In a sense the explosion of man across the galaxy must
be considered a regression of civilization. On Earth, after
many thousand years of effort, men had developed a con-
sensus as to what constituted good and evil. When men
departed Earth, they left behind this consensus as well.. . .

From Human Institutions, by Prade (Textbook, tenth
and eleventh grades):

Interchange is another of the strange accommodations
necessary to the functioning of what we have termed "the
total mechanism." It is a fact that kidnaping for ransom is
a common crime, owing to the ease by which escape via
spaceship can be effected. In the past, the system for paying
ransom often broke down, owing to the hatreds and sus-
picions inevitably generated, and many boys and girls were
never returned to their homes. Hence the necessity for In-
terchange, which is to be found on Sasani, a planet in the
near Beyond, and functions as a broker between kidnaper
and those paying ransom. Interchange guarantees good
faith in the transaction. The kidnaper receives his money
minus the Interchange fee; the victim is restored safely to
his home... . Interchange is officially denounced but prac-
tically tolerated; since it is believed that conditions would

THE KILLING MACHINE 215

be far worse in its absence. Occasionally certain groups dis-
cuss the feasibility of commissioning the IPCC to stage a
raid upon Interchange; somehow nothing ever comes of it.

Interchange was a cluster of buildings at the base of a rocky hillock
in the Da'ar-Rizm, a desert of the planet Sasani, Aquila GB 1201;

IV, to use the geocentric nomenclature still favored by the Star
Directory. At one time in the far past, an intelligent race had peopled
at least the two north continents of Sasani, for here were to be
found the crumble of monumental castles and keeps.

Private spacecraft were banned from the Da'ar-Rizm, and a ring
of cannon emplacement enforced the structure. Persons employing
the facilities of Interchange were required to land at Nichae on the
shore of the shallow Calopsid Sea, board an airship for Sul Arsam—
no more than a station in the desert—then ride a jolting surface
car across twenty miles of desert to Interchange.

When Gersen arrived at Sul Arsam, a cold drizzle was damp-
ening the desert soil, and even as he walked from airstrip to depot,
vivid patches of lichen appeared. Halfway along the path, a small
humming object struck his cheek and immediately set to work tear-
ing at his skin. Gersen cursed, slapped, brushed it away. He noticed
his fellow-passengers similarly engaged, and also discerned a sly
smile on the face of the depot attendant, who wore what appeared
to be an ultra-sonic bug-repeller.

With five other passengers, Gersen waited in the depot: no
more than a long shed with screened sides. The drizzle became a
brief drenching downpour, then halted and suddenly sunlight struck
down at the desert, raising wisps of vapor. The lichen erupted
spores in little pink spurts.

The shuttle-bus appeared, a lumbering crude contraption on
four big wheels. It parked an almost purposefully inconvenient two
hundred feet from the depot; flapping hands and running to avoid
the insects, Gersen and the other five took themselves aboard.

For half an hour, the bus bumped and jerked across the barrens;

then in the distance appeared Interchange: low concrete structures
around a tumble of crumbling red sandstone. A grove of feathery
yellow, brown, and red trees covered the top of the hill, where three
or four cottages were visible.

The bus rumbled into a compound, halted; the passengers
alighted and were directed by yellow arrows into a reception room.

216 THE DEMON PRINCES

Behind a counter, making entries in a manual, sat a small sallow
clerk with white hair carefully waxed up around a gray skull-cap,
the front of which displayed the Interchange emblem: a pair of
clasped hands. Waving the group to seats, he continued with his
work. Finally, closing the manual with a snap, he looked up, pointed
a finger.

"You, sir. I will attend to you, if you will come forward."

The individual selected was a saturnine black-haired man wear-
ing the tight black jacket and white breeches of Bernal. The clerk
brought forward a form: "Your name?"

"Rank Olguin 92, File Mettier 6."

"You wish to redeem whom?"

"Rank Sett 44, File Mettier 7."

"The fee to be rescinded?"

"Twelve thousand five hundred SVU."

"You are agent, principal, or noncommitted?'1

"I am agent."

"Very well. Produce the fee, if you please."

The money was brought forward; the clerk counted it with
great care, passed it through the slot of a fake-meter, and so con-
vinced himself of its authenticity. He wrote a receipt, requested a
counter-receipt, which the Bernalese refused to supply until the
redeemed individual was brought before him. The clerk sat back at
this display of waywardness, inspected the Bernalese narrowly. "You
fail to comprehend, sir. The watchword at Interchange is integrity.
The fact that I allow you to produce your money is sufficient guar-
antee that the guest whose fee you are rescinding is at hand, and
in good condition. By your hesitancy and suspicion, you not only
asperse our reputation but also tarnish the luster of your own qual-

ity•"

The Bernalese shrugged, unimpressed by the clerk's peroration.
Nevertheless he signed the counter-receipt. The clerk nodded
stiffly, touched a button, and an attendant in a red jacket came to
conduct the Bernalese to a waiting room.

The clerk shook his head disparagingly, pointed arbitrarily at
another of the visitors: this a stocky scowling man with dark-buff
skin-tone, wearing the more or less standardized spaceman's garb,
such as Gersen's own, which gave no clue as to his place of origin.

The clerk was not impressed by his truculent mien. "Name?"

"None of your affair."

THE KILLING MACHINE

217

The clerk once again leaned back in his chair. "Eh now? What's
this? I require your name, sir."

"Call me Mr. Inconnu."

The clerk glared. "This organization operates without guile or
circumvention and appreciates a similar attitude in our business as-
sociates. Very well, then, Mr. 'Inconnu.' " With a flourish the clerk
wrote. "Who is the guest whose fees you are rescinding?"

"I'm ransoming a prisoner!" roared the stocky man. "Here's
your cursed loot, let's have my nephew back!"

The clerk pursed his lips in prim disapproval. "I will expedite
this affair, because such is our policy. Your nephew is who?"

"Cader, Lord Satterbus. Bring him forth and be quick about
it."

The clerk half-lowered his eyelids, summoned an attendant.
"Lord Satterbus, Suite 14, for this gentleman, please." He made an
airy flourish, as if dispelling a bad odor, and pointed. "You, sir. I
will deal with you next."

The third man was slender and diffident; he wore satin-green
skin-tone, the embroidered jacket, the ruffled gaiters currently fash-
ionable at Mountain Wilds on Image, one of the Concourse planets.
He wanted to conduct his business in a confidential fashion, for he
leaned over the clerk and spoke in a low-pitched mutter—a man-
nerism the clerk would have none of. Drawing himself back, he
exclaimed, "Won't you speak up, sir, I can hardly hear what you
say."

The man's diffidence was of no great durability. He lost his
temper. "There is no reason why this discreditable dealing must be
so public! You should provide booths for those of us with sensibil-
ity!"

"Now then, sir," declared the clerk, "you mistake us. You must
not expect to slink in here as if you were visiting a brothel. Our
service is of the highest respectability. We act as an escrow insti-
tution, completely impartial, representing all interests, in trust and
probity. So now, sir, speak your business openly."

The man flushed, his skin-toning becoming a muddy gray. "In
that case, since you are so open and sincere, tell me this: who owns
this business? Who gets the profits?"

"This subject is not at all relevant to our present business,"
responded the clerk.

218 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Neither is my name and address. Come now, speak up, since
you brim with so much veracity!"

"It is ample to know that this is a corporate body, owned and
managed bv several groups."

"Bah!"'

Eventually the man paid his money and was taken away. Gersen
was selected next. He gave his name, declared himself uncommit-
ted: in other words, an independent entrepreneur who might
choose to "rescind the fee"—the usage seemed a special euphemism
of Interchange—of a guest who had outstayed the fifteen-day pe-
riod of prime redemption, presumably in order to ask a high ransom
and thus turn a profit. The clerk nodded curtly. "These are our
current 'availables.' " He gave Gersen a sheet listing several dozen
names with the corresponding rescission fees. Gersen ran his eye
down the list. Near the top he saw:

Audmar, Daro; 9, male
Wix; 7, female

Rescission: SVU 100,000,000.

A few spaces below he found:

Cromarty, Bella; 15, female

Rescission: SVU 100,000,000.

and further:

Darbassin, Oleg; 4, male

Rescission: SVU 100,000,000.

and then:

Eperje-Tokav, Alusz Iphigenia; 20, female

Rescission: SVU 10,000,000,000.

Gersen read the figures, blinked. A typographical error? Ten billion
SVU? An unheard-of ransom, an impossible sum! A hundred mil-
lion was unprecedented, though here on this list—he glanced
down—were seven or eight guests with fees established at SVU
100,000,000. An enormous amount of money but still only a hun-

THE KILLING MACHINE 219

dredth of ten billion. Something very strange here. Who could be
expected to pay ten billion SVU? It was a figure beyond the budgets
of most planets, let alone individuals. Gersen inspected the list fur-
ther. After the eight guests valued at SVU 100,000,000, there was
only one other valued at more than SVU 100,000. This was:

Patch, Myron; 56, male

Rescission: SVU 427,685.

The clerk who, while Gersen consulted the list, had busied himself
with another customer, now returned. "Do any of our 'availables'
meet your immediate needs?"

"Naturally I want to make a personal inspection," said Gersen,
"but from sheer curiosity, is the figure 'SVU 10,000,000,000' cor-
rect, or is it a misprint?"

"It is correct, sir. At Interchange we dare make no mistakes."
"If I may ask, who sponsors this young lady? On whose behalf
do you act?"

The clerk bridled. "As you must know, unless specifically au-
thorized to do so, we must reserve this information."

"I see. Well, what about the Audmar item for a hundred mil-
lion, the Cromarty, the Darbassin, the Floy, the Helariope, and the
others? WTio sponsors them?"

"We have not been authorized to release this information."
Gersen nodded. "Very well. I'll take a look around."
"One more matter, sir. In connection with the Eperje-Tokay
item, we cannot allow mere gratification of curiosity. Before you
may even inspect this 'available,' you must make a deposit of ten
thousand SVU, said sum to apply to the rescission fee."
"I'm not interested to that extent," said Gersen.
"As you wish." The clerk summoned an attendant, who led
Gersen from the reception room, along a corridor that presently
opened into a courtyard. Here the attendant paused. "Which items
in particular would you like to inspect?"

Gersen considered the man. From his flat intonations he was
an Earthman, or possibly native to one of the worlds Beyond. He
was about Gersen's own age, or perhaps younger, with hulking
stooped shoulders, an affable, heavy-featured face toned pale yel-
low. A cap with the Interchange emblem sat on top a luxuriant crop

THE DEMON PRINCES

220

of waw vellow hair that swooped behind the ears and hack in a
drake's tail.

Gersen said in a thoughtful voice, "As you know I'm uncom-
mitted."

"Yes, sir."

"I have a few SVU to invest where it will do the most good.
You must know what I mean."

The attendant was not quite sure; still he nodded sagely.

"You can help me considerably," said Gersen. "I'm sure you
know more concerning the individual items than you tell the usual
customer. If you direct me along the road to profit, then it is only
fair that I share with you."

The attendant was clearly intrigued by the direction ofGersen's
thinking. "This all seems eminently sensible—provided of course
that company rules are observed. These are strict, and the penalties
are correspondingly rigorous."

"There is no question of anything not completely aboveboard."
Gersen brought forth a pair of hundred-SVU notes. "There will
be several more, depending on how much information you can pro-
vide."

"I can talk for hours; many strange events have occurred at
Interchange. But let us proceed. If I understand you rightly, you
wish to inspect each of the guests who are currently available?"

"Correct."

"Very well. In this direction are the Class E cubicles, for guests
whose friends and loved ones are unable to rescind them, and who
now—to speak frankly—merely await a slaver's offer. Accommo-
dations range upward to the so-called Imperial Gardens on top of
the hill. Guests must keep to their quarters during the morning
inspection hours, hut during the afternoon are allowed recreation
of choice, and in the evening there is the social period. Some of
our guests find the experience relaxing and own to a sense of grat-
itude toward their sponsors."

Guided by the now verbose attendant, Gersen examined the
miserable specimens in the Class E cubicles, then those in Classes
D and C. Before each cubicle hung a placard, with information
regarding the inmate's name, status,, and rescission fee. The atten-
dant, who was named Armand Koshiel, pointed out various bar-
gains, possible profit-makers and long-shot speculations: "—totally
incredible. Look at him, oldest son of Tywald Fitzbittick, the

THE KILLING MACHINE 221

richest quarryman of Boniface. What's forty thousand SVU to him?
He'd go a hundred thousand without demur. If I had the sum, I'd
buy the fellow myself. It's absolute certainty!"

"Why has not Tywald Fitzbittick rescinded the youth for forty
thousand?"

Koshiel shook his head in perplexity. "He's a busy man; perhaps
the thrust of business has distracted him. But sooner or later, mark
my words, he'll be here, and money will flow like water."

"Very likely."

Koshiel pointed out several other guests in similar circum-
stances and expressed puzzlement when Gersen remained detached
and noncommittal. "I tell you, too much deliberation sometimes
leads to disappointment. For instance, there, that very cubicle
housed a handsome young woman whose father was dilatory. The
sponsor lowered the rescission fee to nine thousand SVU and yes-
terday a noncommitted buyer—I believe a Sardanipolitan—ar-
ranged redemption. And—would you believe it—just as the papers
were signed, the father arrived, but was perforce disappointed, since
the buyer declared himself satisfied- An unpleasant scene ensued."

Gersen agreed that procrastination sometimes resulted in in-


convenience.

"In my opinion," declared Koshiel, "the Oikumene Conference
should appropriate a sum ample to meet all rescission expenses.
Why not? Most of the guests are residents of the Oikumene. Such
an arrangement would facilitate the entire program, and there
would be considerably less unpleasantness and deprivation,"

Gersen suggested that kidnapers might thereby be encouraged,
and Koshiel admitted the possibility. "On the other hand, the sit-
uation now existing has aspects that puzzle me."

"Indeed?"

"You are acquainted with the Trans-Galactic Insurance and
Guaranty Company? They have offices in many of the large cities."

"I have heard the name."

"They specialize in kidnap insurance; in fact I believe they sell
perhaps 60 or 70 percent of all such insurance, for the principal
reason that their rates are low. Why are their rates low? Because
their clients are seldom kidnaped, while the clients of their com-
petitors inevitably find their way to Interchange. I have frequently
speculated that either TransGaIactic owns Interchange, or Inter-

THE DEMON PRINCES

222

change owns TransGalactic. An indiscreet thought, perhaps, but
there it is."

"Indiscreet, perhaps, but interesting. . . . And why not? The two
enterprises certainly seem to dovetail."

"Exactly my way of thinking... . Yes, many odd events occur

at Interchange."

They came to a Class B apartment, which housed Daro and
Wix Audmar. "Now here's a jolly little couple," said Armand Ko-
shiel. "The rescission, of course, is far too high: these two are worth
perhaps twenty or thirty thousand, depending on your taste. Their
time of prime rescission is up, they are 'available,' but naturally no
one in his right mind would pay so restrictive a fee."

Gersen watched the two children through the one-way window.
They sat listlessly; Daro reading, Wix jerking at a loop of string.
They were much alike, slender, dark-haired, with the luminous gray
eyes of their father.

Gersen turned away. "Odd. Why should anyone post so high
a rescission fee? And I notice several other guests with similarly
high redemptions. What is the story here?"

Koshiel licked his lips, blinked, looked furtively over his shoul-
der. "I should not impart this information since it concerns the
identity of a sponsor, but I am sure this particular sponsor is quite
indifferent. He is the famous Kokor Hekkus."

Gersen feigned surprise. "What? Kokor Hekkus the Killing
Machine?"

"The same. He has always given us a certain amount of busi-
ness, but at the moment it seems that he dominates the entire en-
terprise. In the last two months, he has brought twenty-six items
to Interchange, and all—save one—he values at a hundred million
SVU. And in most cases he collects. These children are sponsored
by Kokor Hekkus."

"But why?" marveled Gersen. "Does he have some grand pro-
ject in mind?"

Koshiel grinned a cryptic grin. "Yes indeed. Yes, yes, indeed.
'And thereby hangs a tale,' as the monkey said while describing the
cat's rear-quarters." Again Koshiel glanced furtively to all sides.
"You may know something of Kokor Hekkus—"

"Who doesn't?"

"—among his characteristics is devotion to the aesthetic ideal.
It seems that Kokor Hekkus has fallen madly in love with a girl

THE KILLING MACHINE

223

who—I assure you—is the loveliest vision of the universe. She is
nonpareil!"

"How do you know this?"

"Patience. This girl, far from returning the affection of Kokor
Hekkus, finds herself appalled and nauseated by the thought of him.
Where can she flee? How can she hide herself? The galaxy is too
small. Kokor Hekkus is indefatigable; he will seek her no matter
where she takes herself. There is no haven for this delightful crea-
ture—save one. Interchange. Not even Kokor Hekkus dares to vi-
olate the rules of Interchange. First, he would never be allowed the
use of its facilities; second, the Interchange management would
spare no effort in punishing him. Kokor Hekkus perhaps scorns
peril, but he is not rash. So this girl acts as her own sponsor. She
establishes her rescission fee at ten billion SVU; indeed, she wished
to set it higher, at a thousand billion, but this was not allowed.

"So now! We have this ludicrous circumstance, the girl serene
and secure in the Imperial Gardens at Interchange, while Kokor
Hekkus sweats and reeks in the extremity of passion. And indeed,
he will not be denied. He lacks the cash; somewhere he must find
ten billion SVU."

"I begin to understand," said Gersen.

"Kokor Hekkus is by no means baffled," Koshiel declared with
verve. "He fights fire with fire. The girl has used the appointments
of Interchange to thwart him; he will use the same to gain his will.
Ten billion is a large number, but it is only a hundred times a
hundred million. So now Kokor Hekkus ranges the Oikumene, kid-
naping the loved ones of the hundred wealthiest folk alive! On the
day that the hundredth pays the hundred million, Kokor Hekkus
will claim the person of AJusz Iphigenia Eperje-Tokay, for she is
'available.' "

"A highly romantic individual, this Kokor Hekkus—in every
sense of the word," said Gersen.

Koshiel did not notice the siccant quality to Gersen's remark.
"Indeed! Think of it! She must wait, day after day, watching the
figure of ten billion become smaller and smaller. Already he has
collected for twenty of the guests he has sponsored; every day sees
the arrival of more. And meanwhile the girl can do nothing; she is
caught in her own trap."

"Hmmf. A sorry situation—at least from the standpoint of the
young lady. Her home is where?"

II IF DLMON PRINCFS

224

Koshiel shook his head. "As to thdt, I hear onl\ rumor—indeed
the source of all mv information The rumor in this case is beyond
the belief of sensible men like ourselves She is said to have declared
herself a native ofNever-Never land the planet rhamber'"

"Thamber3" Gersen was indeed surprised Thamber, the world
of myth, of witches and sea-serpents, gallant knights, and magic
forests, was the locale of children's fairy' tales. Also, he recalled with
a sudden tingle, the home ofhormagaunts'

"Thamber indeed'" exclaimed Koshie! with a laugh and an ex-
pressive gesture "It now occurs to me that if you have ten billion
SVU and vast courage, here would be an excellent speculation' Ko-
kor Hekkus, if he must kidnap the scions of another hundred
wealthy folk, would certainly pay your price'"

"Just my luck to rescind this nonpareil, then have her sicken
and die on my hands. Kokor Hekkus and I would both be bereft'"

As they spoke, they had been wandering along the row of Class
B and Class A apartments Koshiel paused, pointed in at a middle-
aged man who seemed to be drawing a diagram in a notebook.
"Here," said Koshiel, "is Myron Patch, another guest sponsored by
Kokor Hekkus At a rescission of 427,685 SVU, highly overpriced,
if you ask me. Unlike the girl from Thamber'" He gave Gersen a
lascivious wink and nudge of the elbow.

Gersen frowned in at Myron Patch—an undistinguished fellow
of medium stature, plump, with an easy good-natured countenance
The rescission fee aroused his interest Why 427,685 precisely5 Be-
hind the figure, behind the enforced visit of Myron Patch to Inter-
change was a story He asked Koshiel, "Can I talk to this man?"

"Certainly, he is 'available.' If you think you can mulct Kokor
Hekkus of a sum in extent of—what is it3 427,68> SVU, a ridiculous
figure—by all means go to it."

"The apartments are naturally equipped with spy-cells and mi-
crophones^"

"No," said Koshiel, "and for a very good reason- there is noth-
ing to be gained by listening "

"Nevertheless," said Gersen, "we will take precautions Let me
speak to the man."

Koshiel touched the button that, by ringing a small chime, ap-
prised the guest in question that his attention was required Myron
Patch looked up, came slowly to the front of the apartment Koshiel
inserted a key into a socket, a panel snapped aside, Myron Patch

THE KILLING MACHINE

225

looked forth at Gersen, at first with hope, and then perplexity. Ger-
sen took Koshiel by the shoulders, moved him close to the panel,
turned him so that he faced into the apartment. "Now sing. loudly."

Koshiel grinned foolishly. "I know only lullabies from my
youth."

"Sing lullabies then, but loudly and with legato "

Koshiel began to yelp a discordant song. Gersen motioned to
the even more perplexed Patch. "Stand close."

Patch pressed his face close to the panel. Gersen asked, "Why
are you here5"

Patch's mouth drooped. "It's a long story."

"Tell me in as few words as possible."

Patch sighed mournfully. "I am an engineer and manufacturer.
I undertook a complicated )ob for a certain man—a criminal, I now
know him to be. We disagreed; he seized my person and brought
me here. The ransom represents the money under dispute."

Koshiel started a new song. Gersen asked, "The criminal is
Kokor Hekkus5"

Myron Patch nodded dolefully.

"Do you know him personally?"

Patch said something that Gersen could not understand for the
fervor ofKoshiel's lullaby. Patch repeated: "I said I know his agent,
who comes often to Krokmole,"

"Can you make contact with the agent5"

"On Krokmole, yes Not here,"

"Very well. I will rescind your fee." Gersen tapped Koshiel's
shoulder. "You may stop. We return to the office."

"You are finished3 There are others to see: bargains, true bar-
gains!"

Gersen hesitated. "Can I see the woman whom Kokor Hekkus
is pursuing?"

Koshiel shook his head. "Not unless you pay ten thousand SVU
for the privilege- In essence she refuses to see anyone: even em-
ployees like myself, who would be happy to relieve her tedium and
relax her understandable tensions."

"Very well then." Gersen produced another three hundred
SVU, which Koshiel, bedazzled and dreamy after so much talk of
millions and billions, pocketed with a murmur of unenthusiastic
thanks. "We return to the office."

From Popular Handbook to the Planets, 303rd Edition

(1292);

Krokinole: third largest planet of the Rigel

Concourse, fourteenth in orbital order.
Planetary Constants:

Diameter:  9,450 miles
Mass:       1.23
Mean day: 22 hours, 16 minutes, 48.9

seconds, etc.

General Remarks: Sometimes considered the most
beautiful of all the Concourse planets, Krokinole may with
justice claim to be the most diverse, both geographically
and ethnically. There are two large continents: Borkland
and Sankland; six smaller continents: Cumberland, Layland,
Gardena, Mergenthaler, Hopland, and Skakerland.

Each of these boasts dozens of natural marvels. At ran-
dom may be mentioned the Crystal Pinnacles of Bize Par-
ish, the Card River Falls of Dinker Parish, both in
Cumberland; the 1 lole through the World of North State,
Sankland; the Undersea Forest off the coast of Iksemand,
Skakerland; Mount Jovah in the Highlands of Gardena, the
tallest mountain (42,102 feet above sea level) of all the Con-
course.

The flora and fauna are complex and highly developed.
The near-extinct Super-beasts, once masters of the planet,
display more than a rudimentary intelligence, as evidenced
bv their unique semaphore communicatory system (to call

THE KILLING MACHINE 227

it a "language" is to commit semantic mayhem), their boats,
baskets, ornamental knots, and committee organization.

The human population of Krokinole is as varied as the
topography; again the diversity can only be indicated. Skak-
erland was first settled by a schismatic cult of the Skakers
who went to Olliphane; in the Highlands of Gardena dwell
the remarkable Imps. Cumberland is home to the talented
and industrious Whitelocks; while the Druid Banquers wan-
der the tundras of North Hopland. Other races are the Ar-
cadians, Batthalese, Singhels, Oporto Fishermen, Jansenists,
Ancient Alans, and many more. . . .

Returning from Sasani aboard Gersen's Model 9B Locater, My-
ron Patch explained in greater detail his dealings with Kokor Hek-
kus, and indeed elaborated upon the whole course of his life.
Originally a native of Earth, Patch had been a victim of the Tex-
ahoma Riots, and considered himself lucky to escape with his life.
He arrived on Krokinole penniless, accepted work as a barnacle-
scraper for the Card Estuary Docking Company, presently estab-
lished a small machine shop at Pacris, the Whitelock capital.
Prospering and expanding, in the course of eighteen years, Patch
had become owner and manager of the Patch Engineering Works,
the largest such enterprise of Cumberland. He had also achieved a
reputation for versatility and ingenuity, to such a degree that when
Seuman Otwal brought him a set of bizarre specifications, Patch
was intrigued but not surprised.

Seuman Otwal, as Patch described him, was a man somewhat
younger than himself, with a strikingly ugly face distinguished by a
long down-curving nose that almost seemed to meet a sharp up-
tilted chin.

Seuman Otwal had attempted no subterfuge. He identified him-
self as an agent of Kokor Hekkus, and had appeared content when
Patch declared himself willing to work for the devil himself, pro-
vided his money passed silently through the fake-meter.

With the relationship established on a realistic footing Otwal
produced his plans. He wanted Patch to design and construct a
walking fort in the semblance of a monster centipede, seventy-six
feet long and twelve feet high. The mechanism was to consist of
eighteen segments, each equipped with a pair of legs. The fort, as
Seuman Otwal termed it, must be able to move at a speed of at

22S THE DEMON PRINCES

least forty miles per hour on synchronized, smoothly operating legs.
It must be able to spurt liquid fire from its tongue, exude noxious
gas, and tire energy beams through ports in its head. Patch declared
himself capable of contriving the mechanism, and, with natural in-
terest, inquired its purpose. Seuman Otwal at first seemed dis-
pleased, then explained Kokor Hekkus' fascination with intricate
and macabre machines. Kokor Hekkus, Otwal went on to say, had
recently been victimized by an obstreperous group of savages, and
the fort "would speak to them in a language they understood."

Warming to his subject, Otwal favored Patch with a lengthy
disquisition on his subject of terror. According to Otwal, terror was
of two varieties: the instinctive and the conditioned. To produce a
maximum effect, both types should be excited simultaneously; ei-
ther alone was capable of being contained. Kokor Hekkus' method
was to identify and analyze these factors; then, in his application,
he selected and intensified the factors of maximum potency.

"One cannot frighten a fish with talk of drowning!" declared
Seuman Otwal.

The exposition continued for half an hour, with Patch becom-
ing increasingly uncomfortable. After Otwal had departed, he wres-
tled long and hard with his conscience over the morality of building
the mechanical horror.

Here Gersen inquired, "Did you ever suspect that Seuman
Otwal might be Kokor Hekkus himself?"

"Oh indeed, until one day Kokor Hekkus himself stepped into
the shop. He did not resemble Seuman Otwal in the least."

"Describe him, if you will."

Patch frowned. "This is difficult. He has no remarkable char-
acteristics. He is about your stature, he is agile and nervous, his
head is neither large nor small, his features are regular and well-
spaced. He wears somber skin-tone and garments in the style of
the Whitelock elders. His manner is subdued, almost over-
courteous, but it is not convincing nor is it intended to convince.
All the while, as he speaks softly and listens attentively, his eyes
gleam, and one knows he is thinking of the strange sights he has
seen and the odd deeds he has done."

There was an interruption now from the two children, who
wished to have Rigel pointed out to them. Gersen indicated the
white blaze dead ahead, then returned to Patch who continued with
the description of his mental turmoil. He had suffered, so he de-

THE KILLING MACHINE 229

dared, the mil range of qualms, misgivings and apprehensions, but
at last decided to be guided by two considerations: first, he had
already compromised himself, especially since money had been ad-
vanced to him, to the sum of SVU 427,685; and second, if he did
not build the machine, there were a dozen other shops that would
do so. So work progressed, even though Patch was uneasily aware
that he assisted in the creation of an evil device.

Gersen listened without comment, and in fact felt no great dis-
approbation. Patch seemed an inoffensive individual who had the
misfortune to lack an automatic morality.

Construction continued; the fort neared completion. Kokor
Hekkus now made his appearance, for the purpose of inspection.
Much to Patch's dismay he declared himself profoundly dissatisfied-
He derided the leg action, which he characterized as awkward and
obviously nonorganic. In his opinion, the fort "would not deceive
a child!" Patch, at first appalled, gradually recovered his wits. He
brought forward the specifications and demonstrated that he had
performed to the letter of his instructions. Nowhere and at no time
had he been supplied unambiguous information regarding leg mo-
tion. Kokor Hekkus was unmoved. He declared the object totally
unacceptable and demanded that Patch make suitable changes.
Patch angrily disavowed responsibility: he would gladly make
changes but he must ask more money. Kokor Hekkus drew back in
outrage. He made a harsh cutting gesture with his hand to signify
that Patch had gone too far. Patch, he declared, had not fulfilled
his contract, which was thereby void; he demanded return of all
moneys advanced: namely SVU 427,685. Patch refused, whereupon
Kokor Hekkus bowed and departed-
Patch armed himself but to no avail; four days later he was set
upon by three men, beaten in a thorough but disinterested manner,
hustled into a spaceboat, conveyed to Interchange where his ransom
was set at SVU 427,685. Patch had neither friends, relatives, nor
business associates; owing to certain debts incurred in the process
of expansion, forced sale of his engineering shop would bring no
more than SVU 200,000. He had given up hope of redemption,
and had resigned himself to slavery. Then Gersen had appeared.
Patch hesitantly inquired Gersen's motives. He felt boundless grat-
itude, he recognized Gersen's generosity, but surely there was more
to the situation than this.

Gersen felt no impulse to confide in Patch. "Assume," he said,

230 THE DEMON PRINCES

"that I am acquainted with the Patch Engineering and Construction
Company, that I consider the ransom as constituting payment for
a 51 percent interest in the organization."

Patch rather forlornly declared himself satisfied with the ar-
rangement. "Do you wish formal acknowledgment of partnership?"

"You might write a memorandum to the effect. Essentially I
want control over company policy for an indefinite period, not to
exceed five years. As to profits I have no immediate need of money
and you may apply all such to repayment of the sum advanced."

Patch was not too pleased with the scheme, but had no basis
for argument. A sudden thought came to him, and he rubbed his
face nervously. "By any chance, do you intend to have further deal-
ings with Kokor Hekkus?"

"Since you ask—yes."

Patch licked his lips, "Allow me at once to register a 49 percent
negative vote. If, in your mind, there is even a 2 percent misgiving,
the negative votes will defeat this reckless ambition."

Gersen grinned. "All 51 percent cries out in favor of recovering
from Kokor Hekkus money illegally extorted from company funds."

Patch bowed his head. "So be it."

Rigel flared across the sky. Gersen located Alphanor; Daro and
Wix became effervescent with excitement. Gersen watched them
wryly. As soon as they returned to the dim old house in the sun-
struck hills above Taube, they would rush to the arms of their father
and mother; the kidnaping, the imprisonment, the voyage home
would become vague, Gersen would be forgotten.. . . Gersen
mused upon the vagaries of fate that had molded him into a—
ruefully he supplied the word—a monomaniac. What if, by some
fantastic set of circumstances, he succeeded in avenging the Mount
Pleasant cataclysm upon all five of the Demon Princes—what then?
Would he be able to retire, to buy country land, to woo and wed,
to breed children? Or would the role of nemesis have become such
an ingrained element in his nature that never could he draw back,
never could he know of evil men without wanting to take their lives?
It was all too possible. And, sadly, the impetus would come not
from indignation or moral outrage, but from reflex, a passionless
reaction; and the only satisfaction to be derived would be that of
fulfilling a minor physiological need, such as belching or scratching
an itch.

As always, such reflections drove Gersen into a fit of melan-

THE KILLING MACHINE 231

choly, and during the remainder of the voyage, he was even more
terse and gruff than ever. The children inspected him wonderingly
though without fear, for they had learned at least to trust him.

Down to Alphanor, down to the continent Scythia, down to the
antiquated Garreu Province spaceport at Marquari. Here Gersen
communicated by visiphone with Duschane Audmar, whose face
was vaguely haggard; Gersen guessed that he had given much in-
trospection to Gersen's mission. He inquired briefly as to the health
of his children and accepted Gersen's reassurance with a curt nod.

There was no air-service between Marquari and Taube, and
spaceships were proscribed except at the spaceports. Gersen herded
the eager children aboard the coast dispatch-ship, a broad-beamed
vessel with cargo below and passengers above, which required a day
and a night to make the five-hundred-mile run down the coast to
Taube. Here he hired the ancient glide-car and rumbled up the
long slope to the manse of Duschane Audmar. The children jumped
from the car and ran pell-mell, without a backward glance for Ger-
sen, into the arms of their mother, who stood, waiting in the open
doorway. Her face worked with the effort to hold back tears, and
Gersen was conscious of an emptiness within himself, for he had
come to feel affection for the children. He entered the house, and
now, secure in their home, Daro and Wix ran up, hugged and kissed
him.

Audmar came forth, conducted him to the austere room where
they had first spoken. Gersen made his accounting,

"Kokor Hekkus needs ten billion SVU. He hopes to raise this
amount by extorting a hundred million from a hundred of the
wealthiest folk of the Oikumene. He has attained perhaps a third
of his goal, and money is rapidly coming in. He desires the money
in order to ransom a young woman who to evade him has taken
refuge at Interchange under a rescission fee often billion SVU."

"Hmmf," said Audmar. "This woman must be extravagantly
attractive for Kokor Hekkus to value her at this figure."

"So it would seem—although any object valued at this figure
must be inherently desirable," said Gersen. "I would have inspected
the woman, but she, functioning as her own sponsor, charges ten
thousand SVU a look, presumably in order to discourage the cu-
riosity of such as myself."

Duschane Audmar nodded. "The information may or may not
be worth a hundred million SVU to the Institute, from which the

232 HP DEMON PRINCFS

money naturally comes My children are hack with me, I am of
course grateful for this, but I tear that I have allowed my emotions
to interfere with rm. reason, I fear that I have compromised myself"

Gersen made no comment I Iis private opinion was to the same
effect Still, the Institute had only itself to blame, should it choose,
it undoubtedly could destroy Kokor Hekkus "A second matter of
interest The young woman's name is Alusz Iphigenia Eper)e-
Tokay She is native to the planet Thamber, or so she claims "

"Thamber'" Audmar at last was interested "Is this a serious
avowal or facetiousness^'

"I believe that she makes a serious claim to this effect "

"Interesting Even if all cockalorum " lie looked sidewise at
Gersen "You have something else to tell me^"

"You gave me a certain amount ot expense money I used part
of it in a manner I considered pertinent which is to say, I bought
a controlling interest in the Patch Engineering and Construction
Company ofPatns on Krokmole "

Audmar nodded graciously "It was the obvious thing to do "

"The opportunity occurred at Interchange Myron Patch was
sponsored by Kokor Hekkus, with a rescission of 427,685 SVU
The figure interested me, I made inquiry, and when Patch stated
that he was able to establish contact with Kokor Hekkus, I re-
deemed him, taking the partnership as security "

Audmar rose to his feet, walked to the door, returned with a
tray containing cordials

"1 find," said Gersen, "that Myron Patch has been building a
mechanical monster for Kokor Hekkus a walking fort m the shape
of a centipede of eighteen segments "

Audmar sipped his cordial, held the glass aloft, eyed the rose
and violet glintmgs. "You need not account for the money," he
said "It has paid for a few items of interesting information, and as
an incidental concomitant brought two pleasant children back to
their home " He finished his cordial, set the glass down with a click
Gersen, understanding more from what was left unsaid than what
was said, rose to his feet, took his leave.

Patns, capital of the Cumberland \ssociated Parishes, rambled and
sprawled for miles along the Card River Estuary, with residential
suburbs along the shores of Ock Eake There were many thousand-
year-old structures in the Old Quarter three- and four-story build-

THE KILLING MACHINE 233

mgs of rough black brick, narrow fronted, with tall narrow windows
and high pitched gables. Upnver, in seven-hundred-year-old New
Town, stood the famous River Arches eleven monumental river-
straddling structures of a type unknown elsewhere m the human
universe Eight-hundred-feet high they stood truncated triangles
with two-hundred-foot arches carved from the base Each was iden-
tical save for color, each housed shops, studios, service areas in the
legs, with apartments for the urban elite above Between the arches
of New Town and the black brick structures of Old Quarter spread
a dingy industrial area, and here was Myron Patch's shop In min-
gled eagerness, irresolution, pride, anxiety, and wounded dignity,
he escorted Gersen to the main entrance It was a more imposing
operation than Gersen had expected, occupying an area two-
hundred-feet long by a hundred-feet wide, with parts and material
storage above Patch was depressed to find the shop locked and
silent "It would seem that in a time of stress, one's employees
would pitch in, keep the wheels rolling, so to speak, or even make
some attempt to rescind the fees of their employer. Over a hundred
men and women derived their livelihood from me, and not one so
much as made inquiry from the Interchange representative'"

"Presumably they were all occupied m seeking new employ-
ment," Gersen suggested-

"Be that as it may, I am not gratified " Patch flung the doors
wide, ushered Gersen into the cavernous interior, pointed to the
section that had been walled off from the main plant "Seuman
Otwal insisted on absolute secrecy," Patch explained. "I used only
trusted employees, and then, at Otwal's insistence, I put them
through a hypnotic process m which I ordered them to forget
everything they saw in Workshop B after they passed through the
door Also," he said musingly, "while they were in the hypnotic
condition I added the suggestion that they work with greater zeal
and accuracy, that they feel neither thirst, hunger, loquacity, nor
fatigue during the working hours, and I must say that for a space I
have never seen such an admirable set of workers I was about to
extend the plan to the entire working force when I was kidnaped,
indeed my first thought was that I had encountered bravos from
the Fabricators' Protective Guild " He led Gersen across the shop,
past various forges, cutters, molds, welding ngs, and lathes, to a
door placarded with the universal symbol for KEEP OUT a red

•I'HE DEMON PRINCES

234

palm-print. Patch ran his finders over the code buttons to the lock.
"Since you are a partner, there can be no secrets from you."

"Precisely," said Gersen.

The door slid aside, the two passed through an anteroom into
Workshop B. There was the walking fort. Patch's habit of mild
understatement had not prepared Gersen for the ferocious aspect
of the device. The head was equipped with six scythe-like mandibles
and a collar of long barbed prongs. The eye was a single faceted
band; the ingestion orifice was a conical maw at the top of the head
with a pair of jointed arms at each side. Behind were the eighteen
segments, each suspended from a pair of high-rising jointed legs,
these encased in a rugose yellow skin. At the far stern was a nubbin
like a second head, equipped with an eye and another set of barbed
prongs. The torso had not yet been finished and still exhibited a
metallic sheen.

"What do you think of it?" asked Patch anxiously, as if hoping
for vindication or endorsement.

"Highly impressive," said Gersen, and Patch seemed satisfied.
"I'd like to know what he wants it for."

"Watch." Patch mounted the head of the object, using the
prongs as a ladder. He stepped into the maw and disappeared. Ger-
sen was alone in the room with the seventy-six-foot engine of fright.
It could spew poison from its prongs, dart fire from its eyes. A
sweep of the mandible could slash through a tree-trunk. Gersen
looked right and left, then retired into the anteroom. Patch seemed
a good fellow, sincerely grateful, but why put temptation in his way?

He positioned himself in the anteroom where he could not be
seen from the head, and watched. Patch had started the energy
system: the object insensibly had come alive. The head gave a shake,
the prongs rattled, the mandibles clicked. From vents at the side of
the head came a wild wailing scream; Gersen stood quivering. The
scream died. Now the object moved, the legs of alternate segments
rising and swinging ahead while the others thrust back.

Backward and forward moved the device, the jointed legs work-
ing smoothly if a trifle stiffly. Now the metal centipede halted,
pranced sidewise; a step, two steps, three steps. Then the near side
of legs seemed to collapse; the object toppled, fell with a clanging
thud against the wall. Gersen would have been crushed had he re-
mained in the shop. Unavoidable, doubtless—a flaw in the machin-
ery, a clumsiness on the part of the operator. . . . From the topside

THR KILLING MACHINE

235

maw scrambled Patch, round face pale and clammy, eyes big with
consternation. Gersen, watching from the anteroom, would have
sworn that his concern was real, that Patch was horrified by the
thought of what he might see. Patch jumped to the floor, peered
back and forth under the hulk. "Gersen! Gersen!"

"Behind you," said Gersen. Patch jumped around, and if the
relief on his face were not genuine, then, Gersen thought, the mim-
ing-pads had lost a great performer.

Patch gasped his thankfulness that Gersen was safe. The phas-
ing mechanism for the starboard bank of legs had failed; it was a
deficiency that he had not previously recognised. Not that it made
any great difference one way or the other, since now the object
must be scrapped.

He led the way back into the main shop, locked the door behind
them. "Tomorrow," he said, "it's back to work. I don't know what
has happened to my old customers, hut I always satisfied them in
the past and perhaps they will bring their business back to us."

Gersen stood looking across to Workshop B. "Exactly what
faults did Kokor Hekkus find unacceptable?"

Patch made a wry face. "The leg action. He said it did not
produce the effect he desired. The motion was too stiff and rigid.
Only a soft supple looping motion would serve. I pointed out the
difficulties and the expense of such a system; indeed I doubt if a
durable mechanism could be worked out, considering the mass of
the fort and the terrain to be traversed, which I understand is ex-
tremely rugged."

"My idea is this," said Gersen. "Kokor Hekkus extracted almost
half a million SVU from us. I want to get that money back."

Patch smiled a sad tremulous smile. "We should be wiser to
ignore him. We do not need his class of trade. Let bygones be
bygones, that is the wise course. Come! Into the office. We will go
over the accounts."

"No," said Gersen. "I plan to leave these matters entirely in
your hands. In the matter of the walking fort, however, I feel that
we must regain our money. And we can do it in a safe, legitimate
fashion."

"llow^" Patch asked dubiously.

"W^e must modify the fort so that it functions to suit Kokor
Hekkus. Then we will sell it to him for the full original price."

"Possibly. But there are difficulties. He may not now require

236 THE DEMON PRINCES

the fort. Or he may not have the money. Or—even more likely—
we won't be able to modify the device to suit him."

Gersen reflected. "Somewhere I've seen a means to overcome
the difficulty. . . . Across the Oikumene is Vanello, something of a
resort world for the region back of Scorpio. At one of the religious
festivals, a platform supported by a long flexible stem raises a priest-
ess dressed in flower petals. Another similar platform raises a table
supporting certain symbolic objects—as I recall, a book, a beaker,
and a human skull. No matter. The priestess performs rites while
the stems twine about each other. I learned that the stems are built
up of several dozen smaller tubes, each containing a magnetic
slurry: iron powder in a viscous liquid. Reacting to fields from in-
ternal windings, these tubes selectively contract with great force.
By proper circuitry any contortion of the tubes is possible. It seems
to me that this system might be applied to the legs of the walking
fort."

Patch scratched his small round chin. "If what you say is cor-
rect, I am inclined to agree."

"First we will want to consult Seuman Otwal to assure ourselves
that Kokor Hekkus still needs the fort."

Patch heaved a deep sigh, raised his arms, let them flap down
to his sides. "So be it—though I would rather deal with adders."

But when Patch called the hotel that Seuman Otwal was wont
to patronize, he found that Mr. Otwal was not currently in resi-
dence, and the date of his return was indefinite.

Patch heard the news with vast relief. Only at Gersen's prompt-
ing did he leave his name and the request that Mr. Otwal call as
soon as possible.

The hotel clerk's face vanished; Patch became cheerful once
again. "After all we have no need for their filthy money, derived
from the most vicious crimes imaginable! Perhaps we can sell the
monster as a curio, or even mount seats on the back and advertise
it as an eccentric charabanc. Have no fear, Kirth Gersen! Your
money is secure!"

"I'm not interested in the money," said Gersen. "I want Kokor
Hekkus."

Patch evidently considered this an odd or even perverse incli-
nation. "For what purpose?"

"I want to kill him/' said Gersen, then regretted his lapse from
taciturnity.

From "Kokor Hekkus the Killing Machine," Chapter
IV of The Demon Prmces, by Caril Carphen (Elusidarian
Press, New Wexford, Aloysius, Vega):

IfMalagate the Woe can be characterized by the single
word "grim" and Howard Alan Treesong .by "incompre-
hensible," then Lens Larque, Viole Falushe, and Kokor
Hekkus all lay claim to the word "fantastic." Which one
exceeds the other two in "fantasy"? It is an amusing if prof-
itless speculation. Consider Viole Falushe's Palace of Love,
Lens Larque's monument, the vast and incredible outrages
Kokor Hekkus has visited upon humanity: such extrava-
gances are impossible to comprehend, let alone compare. It
is fair to say, however, that Kokor Hekkus has captured the
popular imagination with his grotesque and eerie humor.
Let us listen to what he has to say in an abstract from the
famous telephoned address, The Theory and Practice of Ter-
ror, to the students of Cervantes University:

". . . to produce the maximum effect, one must identify
and intensify those basic dreads already existing within the
subject. It is a mistake to regard the fear of death as the
most extreme fear. I find a dozen other types to be more
poignant, such as:

"The fear of inability to protect a cherished dependent.

"The fear of disesteem.

"The fear of noisome contact.

"The fear of being made afraid.

"My goal is to produce a 'nightmare' quality of fright,

238 THE DEMON PRINCES

and to maintain it over an appreciable duration. A night-
mare is the result of the under-mind exploring its most
sensitive areas, and so serves as an index for the operator.
Once an apparently sensitive area is located, the operator
to the best of his ingenuity employs means to emphasize,
to dramatize this fear, then augment it by orders of mag-
nitude. If the subject fears heights, the operator takes him
to the base of a tall cliff, attaches him to a slender, obviously
fragile or frayed cord, and slowly raises him up the face of
the cliff, not too far and not too close to the face. Scale
must be emphasized, together with the tantalizing but in-
feasible possibility of clinging to the vertical surface. The
lifting mechanism should be arranged to falter and jerk. To
intensify claustrophobic dread, the subject is conveyed into
a pit or excavation, inserted head-foremost into a narrow
and constricted runnel that slants downward, and occasion-
ally changes direction by sharp and cramping angles.
Whereupon the pit or excavation is filled and subject must
proceed ahead, for the most part in a downward direction."

Seuman Otwal made no appearance during the first month, nor
yet the second. During this time. Patch called his employees back
to work, solicited business, and presently the Patch Engineering and
Construction Company was once more in full clangorous swing.

Gersen took upon himself the modification of the walking fort.
He communicated with the local office of the UTCS,* mentioned
the annual Floration Rite at Vanello, described the sinuous supports
to the forty-five sepalic platforms, and minutes later received a port-
folio of tables, graphs, schematics, and material specifications. He
took these to Patch, who scrutinized them, nodded sagely, said,
"Ah, yes. ... Ah yes.... Ah yes. ..." After which he heaved a do-
lorous sigh. "And so at vast expense, we perfect this ridiculous hur-
lothrumbo to find that neither Seuman Otwal nor Kokor Hekkus
nor anyone else will pay for it—what then?"

"We'll sue," said Gersen.

Patch snorted, returned to a study of the data Gersen had set
before him. Finally he said grudgingly, "The system is clearly fea-
sible, and will definitely be more flexible than the jointed legs.

'Universal Technical Consultative Service.

THE KILLING MACHINE 239

However the design of the phasing nodes, the coupling to the mod-
ulators, and the modulators themselves are far beyond my capabili-
ties. . . . There is a highly competent group of cybernetic engineers—
as I see it, this is basically a cybernetic problem—a hundred yards up
the street, and I suggest that we contract the whole matter over to
them."

"As you wish."

Two months later, Seuman Otwal had not appeared. After ve-
hement protest, Patch communicated once more with the Halkshire
Hotel, but Seuman Otwal had not been seen. Gersen began to feel
spasms of uneasiness and cast about for another means to make
contact with Kokor Hekkus. The fort itself—so he reasoned—by
its very nature should provide information. He went to the files and
brought forth the entire set of plans, specifications, and correspon-
dence, spread all before him.

Nowhere appeared any categorical identification of the planet
on which the metal monster was intended to function.

Gersen began all over again, seeking this time for some indirect
indication to Planet X, for information implicit in other data.

There was no mention of air-conditioning equipment; evidently
the atmosphere was standard or near-standard.

In the specifications, a section read:

The vehicle must, under full load, be able to traverse slopes
of up to 40° (assuming adequate footing) at a speed not less
than ten miles per hour; to negotiate easily and certainly
broken ground, such as a field of irregularly-shaped rock
fragments up to six feet in diameter; to pass across cre-
vasses, gaps, or ditches up to twenty feet wide.

Elsewhere a notation stated:

Energy requirements have been calculated on the basts of 75
percent thermodynamic efficiency with an over-performance
factor of 100 percent.

Gersen set to work with slide-rule, calcultte, and integraph. He
knew the mass of the fort, he knew the energy required to propel
the vehicle up a 40° slope at a speed of ten miles an hour. From

THE DEMON PRINCES

240

this information and the over-performance factor, he could calcu-
late the surface gravity of Planet X—which came to a value of 0 84
standard, implying a diameter of between 7,000 and 8,000 miles.

So far, so good, but hardly definitive information Again Gersen
studied the specifications They were extremely exact, and allowed
no elasticity, with fourteen color sketches depicting the fort from
all sides The object was to be enameled m various shades of black,
dark brown, pink, and chalk-blue Even the enamels and pigments
were specified by means of graphs showing wavelength plotted
against reflectance One variable had not been indicated, mused
Gersen the color of the impinging light Thoughtfully, he called
in the plant's color engineer, and requested a set of plaques en-
ameled m accordance with the graph

While he waited Gersen investigated another idea The speci-
fications were so exact as to suggest similarity or identity to an
actual living creature The creature would be awesome indeed, but
this was consistent with the philosophy of Kokor Hekkus. He pre-
pared a precis detailing the characteristics of the fort, which he
submitted to the UTCS Twelve minutes later, he received a report
to the effect that no creature of these taxonomic indexes could be
located in the standard references, bestiaries, monographs, or ex-
ploration notices Many worlds hosted creatures with points of sim-
ilarity: this was a matter of common knowledge- The planet Idora,
Sadal Suud XI, exhibited a segmented water-worm, ranging to
thirty feet in length, on Earth were various miniature species, the
Krokmole Highlands was home to the noxious roof-runner There
was, stated the report, a curiously apt reference m an old volume
of children's tales Legends of Old Thamber—here Gersen bent sud-
denly over the sheet The exerpt read

Easing and squeezing, gliding and sliding, walking and
stalking down the mountain it comes on thirty-six supple
hooks' Dreadful and dire is the creature in its unhurried
haste, as long as the length of twelve dead victims'

"Now we are lost," cried Princess Sozanella, "Shall we
succumb to the monster or give ourselves to the horrid
Taddo trolls^"

"Hope' Hold to hope'" Dantinet whispered. "For this
is the ancient foe of the trolls' It turns its black face away,
to look upon the Taddo' It rears to show its blue belly, the

THE KILLING MACHINE 241

color of putridity The trolls whimper and scream, but too
late' And the monster tosses them into its maw Now we
hasten away, through the glooms and passages, for once the
Dread has performed a benefit'"

Gersen slowly put down the report Thamber' Another reference
to the world of myth'    Xavar Mankinello, the color engineer,
came in with tabs enameled to Kokor Hekkus' specifications Ger-
sen, with as much impatience as he ever allowed himself, arranged
them beside the depicted fort There was an obvious difference
Mankinello bent anxiously over the desk "There's been no mistake,
I took great pains "

Gersen studied the tiles "Assuming that this is so, what color
light will bring the tiles to the same colors as the sketch^""

Mankinello considered "The tiles are unquestionably cooler
than the sketch Let's step into the lab "

In the laboratory, Mankinello put the tiles under a color gen-
erator "Presumably you're interested in standard incandescence "

"Standard starlight I suppose that's close to the same thing "

"Somewhat different, due to the stellar atmospheres But I can
easily code for the stellar progression Let's start with about
4,0000 " He turned a wheel, flicked a switch, checked with a com-
parator "Close " He turned the wheel "There it is 4,350°." He
glanced through a port. "See for yourself"

Gersen peered through the opening The tiles were now iden-
tical to the colors of the sketch "Color temperature 4,350° Class
K?"

"I'll tell you exactly " Mankinello consulted a reference. "Class
G8"

Gersen took sketch, tiles, returned to the room he had pre-
empted for his office. Facts were accumulating. The planet in ques-
tion attended a G8 star, and was characterized by a gravity of
0 84G. References to the legendary world Thamber had occurred
with peculiar frequency    Gersen called UTCS, requested a
search for references to the location—hypothetical, fictional, myth-
ical, hysterical, or otherwise—of the lost world Thamber Half an
hour later, a folder was delivered to him with several dozen extracts
There was little of interest, the most circumstantial information
being contained in a traditional bit of school-yard doggerel

THE DEMON PRINCES

242

Set a course from the old Dog Star
A point to the north of Achernar;

Sleight your ship to the verge extreme
And dead ahead shines Thamber's gleam.

The information contained in the first two lines might be applied,
but thereafter the directions were meaningless. There was no more
information to be derived from a study of the fort. Gersen decided
that he had come to a dead end. Somewhere in space hung a world
where Kokor Hekkus planned to take a metal monster. This world
might be home to Alusz Iphigenia Eperje-Tokay who valued herself
at ten billion SVU. This world might be the Thamber of myth.
But there was no way of knowing,

Myron Patch appeared in the doorway. His round face was taut
and accusing. For a moment he looked at Gersen, then said in a
portentous voice, "Seuman Otwal is here."

From the Preface to A Concise Histofy of the Oikumene,
by Albert B. Hall:

Human evolution . .. has never gone in a smooth flow,
but always in a cyclical pulse, which, as history is scanned,
seems almost convulsive. The tribes mingle and merge to
form a race, then comes a time of expulsion, of migration,
isolation, differentiation into new tribes.

For more than a thousand years, this latter process has
been on the ascendant, as the human race has swept across
space. Isolation, special conditions, inbreeding have created
dozens of new racial subtypes. But now there is stasis in the
Oikumene, with many comings and goings, and it seems
that perhaps the pendulum is about to swing back.

But only in the Oikumene! Folk still fare beyond, ever
outward. Never has isolation been more easy, never has
personal freedom been so cheap!

The eventualities? Anyone's guess is good. The Oiku-
mene may be forced to expand. Other Oikumenes may
come into existence. Conceivably men may collide with the
realm of another race, for there is abundant evidence that
other space-traveling peoples have gone before us, how and
why to disappear no one can say.

"Where is Seuman Otwal?" Gersen asked. "Here in the shop?"

"No. Here in Patris. He wonders why I left the message."
Patch's expression became more accusing than ever. "I didn't know

244 THE DEMON PRINCES

what to say... . Humiliating to deal politely with a man who has
wronged you... . Swallowing ashes. ..."

"What did you say?"

Patch made a helpless gesture. "What could I say? Except the
truth. That we had worked out a means to alter the fort."

<' -W'e'?"

"The reference naturally was to the Patch Engineering and
Construction Company."

"Did he seem interested?"

Patch gave a grudging nod. "He claims to have new instructions
from his superiors. He will be here shortly."

Gersen sat thinking. Seuman Otwal might or might be one of
Kokor Hekkus' various identities; Kokor Hekkus might or might
not be aware that the weasel of Skouse was Kirth Gersen. He rose
to his feet. "WTien Seuman Otwal comes, receive him in your office.
Introduce me as—as Howard Wall, plant manager, or chief engi-
neer, something of the sort. Don't be surprised by anything I say—
or," he added by way of afterthought, "by any change in my ap-
pearance."

Patch gave a stiff assent and turned away. Gersen went to the
main washroom, where a dispenser offered a selection of skin-
tonings. Selecting an exotic duo-tone—purplish-maroon with green
luster—he changed his color, and parting his hair in the middle,
combed it down over his cheeks in the style of the WTiitelock con-
noisseur. He had no change of clothes to complete the transforma-
tion, and so donned a white laboratory smock. Still dissatisfied, he
clipped on a pair of gold filigree elf-shells over his ears, together
with a gold nasal ridge that had been forgotten by one of the more
foppish of the engineers. Bedizened and fashionable, Gersen now
failed to recognize himself in the mirror.

He crossed the corridor to Patch's suite. The receptionist gave
him a wondering look; Gersen walked past her and into Patch's
office. Patch, looking up in startlement, hastily concealed the
weapon he had been inspecting. He rose to his feet, puffed out his
cheeks. "Yes sir? What is your wish?"

"I am Howard Wall," said Gersen.

" 'Howard Wall'?" Patch frowned heavily. "Do I know you?
The name is somehow familiar."

"It should be," said Gersen. "I just mentioned it ten minutes
ago."

THE A7/.U.VG MACHINE

245

"Oh. Gersen. Yes indeed." Patch cleared his throat. "You gave
me quite a start." He resumed his seat. "Why the elaborate rega-
lia?"

"For Seuman Otwal. He doesn't know me, and 1 don't want
him to."

Patch's face became dour. "I dislike catering to the trade of
suspected criminals; it reflects upon the good name of Patch, and
this is our most valuable asset."

Gersen ignored the obvious rejoinder. "Don't forget: I am
Howard W^all, your production manager."

"WTiatever you like," replied Patch with dignity.

Five minutes later, the receptionist announced Seuman Otwal.
Gersen went to the door, slid it open. Seuman Otwal came jauntily
forward. His skin was strikingly two-toned russet and black; he had
a high-bridged hooked nose, a long sharp jaw and prow-like chin,
he wore tall pointed ear-shells of jet and nacre, which gave his head
a narrow jutting bony look. Gersen tried to project upon him the
image of the man he had confronted on Bissom's End. Was there
similarity? Conceivably. Otwal seemed of generally similar phy-
sique, but the facial indexes of the two were at variance. Gersen
had heard reports of malleable flesh, but here was something more
than wadded cheeks or a splayed nose. . .. Seuman Otwal glanced
inquisitively at Gersen, then at Patch who had risen uncertainly to
his feet. "My general manager," said Patch. "Howard Wall."

Otwal nodded politely. "Your custom must be increasing."

"I was forced to it," grumbled Patch. "Somebody had to look
after the business when I was away. I have you to thank for it."

Otwal made an airy gesture. "A matter to be forgotten. My
employer has his foibles; he is by no means unfair, though he wants
fair value for his generous remuneration. Mr. Wall knows whom I
represent?"

"Certainly. He understands the need for discretion."

Gersen nodded with the proper degree of solemnity.

Seuman Otwal gave a slight shrug. "Very well, Mr. Patch. I
accept this. So now?"

Patch jerked his thumb toward Gersen, with rather less suavity
than Gersen liked, and spoke with heavy irony: "Mr. Wall under-
stands the nature of our previous difficulties and has some new
ideas."

246 THE DEMON PRINCES

Otwal seemed not to notice Patch's lack of enthusiasm. "I shall
be glad to listen."

"First a question," said Gersen. "Is the party you represent still
interested in the device as specified in the original contract?"

"Such conceivably might be the case," said Otwal, "if our re-
quirements are satisfied. My employer was appalled by the awkward
motion of the first version. The legs moved stiffly, with an angular
scissor-like effect."

"This was the only difficulty?" inquired Gersen.

"It was certainly the most important one. Presumably the object
is built to the well-known quality standards of Patch Engineering."

"Indeed it is!" declared Patch.

"The difficulty then no longer exists," said Gersen. "Mr. Patch
and I have devised a system by which any required motion can be
programed and enforced upon the legs."

"If so, and if the system meets our standards of reliability, then
this is good news indeed."

"We had best consider the matter of recompense," said Gersen.
"Here I speak for Mr. Patch, of course. He wants the full sum of
the original contract, plus the cost of modifications and the normal
percentage of profit."

Otwal considered a moment. "Minus, of course, those devel-
opmental funds already advanced. SVU 427,685,1 believe to be the

i*

sum.

Patch began to sputter. Otwal could not restrain a faint smile.

"There have been additional expenses," said Gersen. "To a to-
tal of SVU 437,685. This must be included in the total reckoning."
Otwal started to protest, but Gersen held up his hand. "We do not
care to argue this point. We are prepared to deliver the mechanism,
but we insist upon payment, which is as I stated it. Of course, if
your principal wishes to make further representations, we shall be
glad to listen to him in person."

Otwal gave a cool laugh. "No matter: I agree. My principal is
anxious to take delivery."

"Still—and no denigration intended—we would prefer to deal
with your principal, in order to minimize all misunderstanding."

"Impossible. He is involved elsewhere. But why be concerned
over trifles? I have full power to act on his behalf."

Patch began to make restless movements; his prerogatives were
ruthlessly being accroached by this so-called partner, whose only

THE KILLING MACHINE 247

contribution to Patch Engineering and Construction was the re-
scission at Interchange. Gersen kept one eye on Patch and one on
Otwal; neither was predictable.

"We accept this," Gersen told Otwal. "Now we need another
installment of developmental money—approximately half a million
SVU."

"Impossible!" snapped Otwal. "My principal is engaged in an
enterprise where he must concentrate all his resources."

Patch began to fume. "You pay me, then you—"

Gersen said hastily, "Assume that the device is completed and
ready for delivery: how can we feel confident of collecting our
money?"

"You have my personal reassurance," said Otwal.

"Bah!" barked Patch. "That is not enough! You cheated me
before, you'd do it again if you had the chance."

Otwal looked pained and turned to Gersen. "If we fail to meet
our obligations—a ridiculous speculation—you need only withhold
delivery. How simple it all is."

"WTiat would we do then with a thirty-six-legged fort?" asked
Gersen. "No. We must insist on one-third payment now, another
third upon approval of the leg action, and the final third upon de-
livery."

"I think they ought to pay punitive damages," muttered Patch.
"Ten thousand isn't enough. It should be a hundred thousand. Two
hundred thousand. My discomfort, my anxiety, my—"

Wrangling continued. Otwal demanded details as to the new
leg action; Gersen replied in diffuse terms: "We use flexible mem-
bers shaped precisely to specifications. They are actuated by
hydraulic tubes of a special variety, controlled by electrical modu-
lations of infinite range."

Otwal finally gave in. "We could easily take our business to
another concern—but time is of the essence. Wlien will you guar-
antee delivery? There must be a penalty clause in the new contract:

we have already been far too lenient."

Again disputation ensued, and at one point Patch rose to his
feet, leaned forward over his desk to shake his fist; Otwal disdain-
fully drew back apace.

The matter finally was adjusted. Otwal insisted upon seeing the
half-completed fort, and, grumbling, Patch led the way with Gersen
bringing up the rear. As he walked, Gersen studied Otwal's form:

248 THE DEMON PRINCES

a man with the light sure tread of a panther, broad in the shoulder,
narrow of hip—very like Billy Windle, but also like millions of
other active and muscular men.

Otwal was surprised to find technicians already hard at work.
He turned to Gersen with a rueful grin. "You anticipated my agree-
ment?"

"Certainly—after driving the hardest bargain possible."

Otwal laughed. "An accurate appraisal of the situation. You are
a clever man, Mr. Wall. Have you ever been Beyond?"

"Never. I am orthodox and unadventurous."

"Strange," said Seuman Otwal. "There is a certain air, almost
an emanation, that clings to those who have worked Beyond. I
thought I sensed it in you. Of course I am often wrong in my
suppositions." He turned back to the fort. "Well, everything seems
to be correct, except of course for the surface finish."

"To satisfy our curiosity," said Gersen, "perhaps you can de-
scribe its ultimate purpose."

"Certainly. My principal spends a good deal of time on a re-
mote planet beset with barbarians. When he wishes to go abroad,
they harass him severely. He wants security and this the fort will
provide."

"Then the fort is purely defensive in nature?"

"Of course. My principal is a much-maligned man. I find him
quite reasonable. He is daring, enterprising, even reckless, and cer-
tainly the most imaginative man alive—but in all aspects reason-
able."

Gersen nodded thoughtfully. "I understand that he makes an
imaginative use of the force of terror."

"Far better the fear of an act," Otwal stated, "than the brutal
act itself. Do you not agree?"

"Possibly. But it occurs to me that a man so obsessed with the
abstract notion of terror must suffer inordinate terrors on his own
account."

Otwal seemed startled. "I had not considered this," he said. "I
think that I agree. An emphatic man lives a hundred lives; he senses
joys, sorrows, triumphs, despairs and, yes, terrors, beyond the ho-
rizon of the common man. He exults greatly, he suffers greatly, he
fears greatly, but never would he arrange matters differently."

"What would you consider his supreme fear?"

THE KILLING MACHINE 249

"It is no secret; death. He fears nothing else—and in fact has
taken extravagant steps to avoid it."

"You speak with great authority," mused Gersen. "You know
KokorHekkuswell?"

"As well as anyone. And of course I am an imaginative man in
my own right."

"I also," declared Patch, "still I do not conduct my financial
business through Interchange."

Seuman Otwal laughed quietly. "A sad episode that I suggest
we consign to the past, and forget forever."

"Easy for you to say," Patch complained. "You weren't locked
up away from your business for over two months."

They returned to the office where Otwal, rather gloomily, so
it seemed, signed a bank voucher on a numbered account for the
sum of half a million SVU; then, once more gracious, departed.
Gersen immediately took the money to the local branch of the Bank
of Rigel, where the check was verified and the money credited to
the account of Patch Construction.

When he returned to the shop, he found Patch in a belligerent
mood. Patch wanted Gersen to take the advance from Otwal and
relinquish his partnership, but Gersen refused to agree. Patch mut-
tered darkly about agreements negotiated under duress, and spoke
of closing the shop until the law set matters straight. Gersen
laughed at him. "You can't close the shop. I own a controlling
interest."

"I didn't realize I was dealing with thugs and bandits," blurted
Patch. "I didn't realize that the good name of Patch Construction
would be tainted. Monsters' Murderers! Terrorists! Thieves! Rob-
bers! WTiat have I let myself in for?"

"Eventually you'll have your shop back," Gersen consoled him.
"And don't forget—there'll be a handsome profit for Patch Con-
struction."

"Unless I get snatched off to Interchange again," said Patch
bleakly. "I expect nothing better."

Gersen uttered a soft quiet curse, and Patch looked in wonder
to see Gersen evince an overt sign of emotion. "WTiat's the trou-
ble?"

"Something I neglected, something I never considered."

"And what is that?"

250 THE DP MON PRINCES

"I might have put a stick-tight on Seuman Otwal—or followed
him."

"Why bother7 He stays at the Halkshire Hotel Seek him
there."

"Yes, of course." Gersen went to the visiphone, was connected
with the Halkshire front desk. He was informed that Mr. Otwal
was not in residence at the moment, but that a message would
eventually reach him. Gersen turned back to Patch. "Suspicious
rascal. He probably would have ducked my stick-tight"

Patch was now studying Gersen with a new and intent expres-
sion. "I knew it all along."

"What?"

"You're an Ipsy agent."

Gersen laughed, shook his head. "I'm )ust ordinary Kirth Ger-
sen "

"How," asked Patch with a shrewd grin, "can you get the use
of a stick-tight operation if you're not police or Ipsy3"

"No great problem, if you know the right people. Let's get on
with our monster."

On the following day, Seuman Otwal called by visiphone to
state that he was leaving the planet. He would return in perhaps
two months, when he hoped to see substantial progress.

On the day following, there was sensational news. In the course
of one night, five of the wealthiest families of Cumberland had
suffered the kidnaping of one or more of their members. "Such was
Seuman Otwal's business on Krolonole," Gersen told Patch.

The fort progressed with satisfactory rapidity—a fact that pleased
Patch but troubled Gersen. Either Seuman Otwal was Kokor Hek-
kus or he was not If not, how could he be forced to reveal Kokor
Hekkus' whereabouts^ Gersen's best hope was that Kokor Hekkus,
in his own guise, might once more visit the shop If not.  Gersen
toyed with the idea of a secret capsule aboard the fort in which to
stow away, but rejected the idea- the fort was far too small...
Might he arrange to accompany the fort as instructor or expert3 If
the fort were truly bound for Thamber, he might find himself ef-
fectually exiled for life, or enslaved

An idea on a different level occurred to him, which during the
next few days he took steps to implement The control pulses from
the fort's cycling mechanism ran through a dorsal duct, branching

THE KILLING MACHINE 251

off right and left to the relays in each segment WTiere the duct
passed back across the head, Gersen introduced a cutoff switch,
activated by cells on either side of the head. If the gas within these
cells were ionized—say by the impact of a weak projac beam—
electricity flowing across the cell would open the switch, rendering
the fort immobile for at least ten minutes.

Meanwhile the surface enamels had been applied. The engines
and circuits were checked and adjusted, the leg action tested under
various types of cycles and then the fort was adjudged complete.
In the dim hours of early morning, it was shrouded under canvas,
walked out into the street, to be grappled by a freight copter and
conveyed to a wild area at the south of the Bize Parish Barrens for
field trials. Patch proudly sat at the controls, Gersen rode beside
him. The fort rambled smoothly over rough ground and shrubs,
climbed hills without faltering. Certain maladjustments made them-
selves known, and were taken note of. A few minutes before noon,
the fort breasted a low ridge and scuttled down into the camp of a
Natural Life Association party. A hundred nature lovers looked up
from their noon meal, emitted simultaneous gasps of horror and
fled screaming over the hills. "Another success," said Gersen. "We
can now with candor guarantee fnghtfulness to Kokor Hekkus."

Patch halted the fort, turned it about, drove it back over the
ridge At twilight it was once again draped in canvas, and carried
back to the shop.

Almost as if Seuman Otwal were clairvoyant, he called on the
following day to request a progress report Patch assured him that
all went well; that if he so chose he could undertake a test of the
fort on the following day. Otwal agreed and once again the fort
was shrouded, trundled out into the predawn stillness, and conveyed
into the badlands behind the Crystal Pinnacles, with Otwal follow-
ing in a small nondescript air-car.

Gersen, wearing his maroon duo-tone and fashionable ac-
couterments, took the controls, and once again the fort ran smartly
up and down the foothills.

Weaponry, by the terms of the contract, had not been installed,
however the gas sacs and odoriferous glands had been loaded with
smoke-gas and colored water; they spouted and sprayed with pre-
cision and accuracy Otwal alighted, stood while the fort trundled
back and forth, then returned to the head compartment and took
over the controls. He said very little but his attitude indicated ap-

2^2 THE DEMON PRINCES

proval. Patch, likewise silent, was clearly congratulating himself that
the entire odious adventure would soon be at an end.

At dusk, the fort once more was conveyed back to Patris. Otwal,
Patch, and Gersen gathered in Patch's office. Otwal walked back
and forth as if in deep thought. "The fort seems to perform well
enough," he said, "but to be perfectly frank, I consider the price
somewhat high. I shall recommend to my principal that he inspect
the mechanism only if the price is reduced to a reasonable and
rational figure."

Patch reeled back and went red in the face. "What!" he roared.
"Do you dare stand here and say that? After all our suffering, all
we've been through to produce the damnable thing?"

Seuman Otwal inspected Patch coldly. "It serves nothing to
rant. I have explained my—"

"The answer is no! Out of here! Don't come back till you bring
every cursed coin we have owing!" Patch marched forward. "Get
out, or I'll throw you out! Nothing could give me more pleasure.
In fact—" he seized Otwal by the shoulder and hustled him about.
Otwa! swayed, smiled serenely toward Gersen, as if in amusement
for the playful ferocity of a kitten. Patch tugged again; Otwal moved
slightly; Patch was flung across the room, to strike his head against
his desk and lie blinking. Otwal turned to Gersen. "What of you?
Do you care to try your luck?"

Gersen shook his head. "I only want to wind up the contract.
Bring your principal for his final inspection, then if he is satisfied,
take delivery. Under no circumstances will we reduce our price; in
fact, we now must start to charge interest upon the amount owing."

Seuman Otwal laughed, glanced at Patch who was slowly raising
himself to a sitting position. "You take a strong position. Under
the circumstances I might do the same. Very well; I am forced to
agree. When can the fort be delivered?"

"According to the terms of our contract, we must pack it in
foam, crate it, and convey it to the spaceport—a matter of three
days after final acceptance and payment."

Seuman Otwal bowed. "Very well. I will try to make contact
with my principal, after which I will render the requisite notifica-
tion." '

"I believe," said Gersen, "that a second payment is now due."
Patch was rubbing his head, staring in virulent hate toward Seuman
Otwal.

THE KILLING MACHINE 253

"Wliy bother?" said Seuman Otwal carelessly. "Let us handle
these tiresome financial matters later."

Gersen refused to agree. "What good is a contract if the terms
are not intended to be binding?" Patch struggled to his feet, moved
with an air of purpose around behind his desk. Gersen stepped
quickly past, removed the projac from the half-open drawer.

Otwal laughed negligently. "You just saved his life."

"I saved our second payment," said Gersen, "because I would
have been forced to kill you as well."

"No matter, no matter. Let us not talk of death, horrid to con-
sider nonbeing! You want your money: tiresome people. Another
half million, I presume?"

"Correct. And a final payment of—Gersen consulted notes—
"ofSVU 681,490, which will settle accounts in full with Patch Con-
struction."

Otwal walked slowly back and forth. "I will have to make ar-
rangements- . .. Three days to crate and foam,, you say?"

"That seems a reasonable period."

"It is too long. Here is how we shall simplify. Cover the fort
with the tarpaulin; at midnight walk it out into the street. A freight-
carrier will grapple to it, and take it to our cargo ship, which is by
chance convenient."

"There is one difficulty," said Gersen. "The banks will be
closed, and your check cannot be certified."

"I will bring the money in cash, all of it: second and third
payments together."

Essentially Gersen cared not a whit for the money; but suddenly
it seemed important not to let Seuman Otwal hoodwink Patch Con-
struction a second time. He forced himself to consider the situation
from a larger perspective. He asked cautiously, "What of your prin-
cipal?"

Seuman Otwal made an impatient gesture. "I will take my
chances with him. He is occupied elsewhere and has given me full
competence. Come; what do you say?"

Gersen smiled sourly. Was this hawk-faced man Kokor Hek-
kus—or not? Sometimes it seemed indubitably yes, and the next
moment as certainly no. Gersen temporized. "One more matter—
that of service. Do you expect us to provide a technical expert?"

"If it becomes necessary, you will be notified. But after all, our

254 THE DEMON PRINCES

own technical staff is at hand, and indeed is responsible for the
design 1 foresee no need for any such expert "

Patch lurched upright in his chair "Get out," he muttered
thickly. "Get out, both of you Murderers, thugs. You too, Wall,
or Gersen, or whatever your name is I don't know what your game
is, but get out "

Gersen turned him a casual glance, then ignored him. Seuman
Otwal seemed amused. Gersen said, "If you want to take delivery
at midnight, pay into our bank account the full sum due us We
want no cash, to be fake-metered and carried around until the banks
open You and your principal of course are men of probity, but
knaves and scoundrels are known to exist As soon as the deposit is
verified, you can take delivery of the fort."

Seuman Otwal considered gravely Then he acquiesced "It
shall be as you wish " He turned a serpent's flick of a glance at his
watch. "There is time Which is your bank7"

"Bank of Rigel, Patns Old-Town Main "

"In half an hour, more or less, you may make inquiry At mid-
night I will arrange to take delivery "

Gersen, remembering, perhaps belatedly, his ostensible role,
turned to Patch. "Does the arrangement meet your approval, Mr
Patch^"

Patch growled something indistinguishable that Gersen and
Seuman Otwal graciously assumed to be assent, Seuman Otwal
bowed and departed Gersen turned to consider Patch, Patch glared
back Gersen controlled an impulse to rake him over the coals, and
seated himself "We must make plans."

"What is the needs for plans now^ As soon as the money
reaches the bank, I intend to buy you out of Patch Construction if
it takes every last cent, and then be damned to you "

"You show very little gratitude," said Gersen "But for me
you'd still be sitting in a cell at Interchange "

Patch nodded bitterly "You rescinded my fee—for purposes of
your own I have no idea what these purposes are, but they have
nothing to do with me As soon as the money reaches the bank, I'll
buy you out, I'll pay any additional sum you require—within rea-
son—and I'll say good-bve to you with the utmost )oy "

"As you wish," said Gersen "I do not care to stay where I am
not wanted \s to the additional sum—make the total an even half
million "

THE KILLING MACHINE

255

Patch puffed out his cheeks "That will be eminently satisfac-
tory "

Half an hour later, Patch called the area branch of the Bank of
Rigel, inserted his account tab into the credit card slot Yes, he was
told, the sum of SVU 1,181,490 had been deposited to his account,

"In that case," said Patch, "please open an account in the name
of Kirth Gersen"—he spelled the name—"and deposit to this ac-
count the sum of SVU 500,000 "

The transaction was performed, both Patch and Gersen affixing
signatures and thumbpnnts to tabs Patch then turned to Gersen.
"You will now write me a receipt and destroy the partnership agree-
ment."

Gersen did as requested "Now," said Patch, "you will be good
enough to leave the premises and never return "

"Whatever you say," replied Gersen courteously. "The asso-
ciation has been stimulating I wish you and Patch Construction
prosperity, and I offer you a final word of advice after the fort has
been delivered, try not to be kidnaped again ""

"Have no fears on that score " Patch grinned wolfishly "I'm
not an inventor and an engineer for nothing. I have devised a pro-
tective harness that will blow the hands and face off anyone who
touches me, let the kidnapers beware'"

Favorite dictum of Raffles, the amateur cracksman:

Money lost, little lost.
Honor lost, much lost.
Pluck lost, all lost.

The night of a Concourse planet was seldom completely dark. For
those worlds appropriately placed in orbit, Blue Companion served
as a small intense moon: the night sky of all the worlds sparkled
with at least several sister planets.

Krokinole saw Blue Companion only as an evening star—a state
of affairs that would persist for yet another hundred years or so,
due to the vast circumference of the orbits of all the Concourse
planets and the consequent sluggish annual motion; in the case of
Krokinole 1642 years.

Krokinole midnight was as dark as any of the Concourse. Patris,
still influenced by the old time Whitelock Injunctionary Proce-
dures, had little to offer in the way ofnightHfe; what small nocturnal
revelry there was centered in New Town at the riverside restau-
rants. Old City was dark and damp from the estuary mist, with
Patch Construction a bright island.

Half an hour before midnight, Gersen came quietly along the
empty streets. Blue Companion had long departed the sky; street
illumination consisted of a dim globe at far intervals, surrounded
by a golden halo of mist. The air smelled of damp brick, the estuary
docks, the mud flats across the estuary: a subtle rnoldering reek
unique to Patris Old Town. Opposite Patch Construction stood a
row of the tall high-gabled buildings, each with a deeply recessed

THE KILLING MACHINE 257

areaway filled with shadow. From one to another of these dark
alcoves Gersen slipped, approaching the oblong of light projected
from the open doors of Workshop B. He came as close as he
thought practical, leaned back against the moldering brick, eased
the various clips and straps supporting his weapons and set himself
to wait. He wore black, with black skin-tone, black eye-shells to
conceal the gleam of his eyes; standing quiet he was part of the
misty night; a sinister shape.

Time passed. Inside the shop, the forward end of the canvas-
swathed fort could be seen, and, from time to time, a technician.
On one occasion. Patch's burly form appeared in the opening as he
stepped out to peer up into the sky.

Gersen checked the time: five minutes to midnight. He fitted
a pair of night-glasses to his forehead, slipped them down over his
eyes, and instantly the street seemed bright, though with unreal
shadows and tones, the chiarascuro sometimes reversed, sometimes
not. The glare from the shop was compensated by a mutachrome
filter, appearing as a dark blotch. Gersen scanned the sky, but saw
nothing.

At a minute before midnight, Patch again stepped out into the
street. Two heavy projacs ostentatiously hung in holsters at his
waist and at his throat was clasped a microphone undoubtedly tuned
to the police emergency band. Gersen grinned: Patch was taking
no chances- After a suspicious look around the sky, Patch returned
within. A minute passed; a long dismal hoot from the Mermiana
monument, the female colossus standing knee deep in the sea, sig-
nified midnight. High in the sky appeared the shape of a freight-
carrier. It settled, then halted in mid-air. Gersen squinted up
through the night-glasses, tentatively brought around his grenade
rifle. The carrier was presumably manned by men in the service of
Kokor Hekkus; the galaxy would profit by their deaths. . . . But
where was Kokor Hekkus? And Gersen cursed the uncertainty that
restrained him from pulling the trigger.

A small air-car appeared. It swooped and, ignoring the traffic
laws of Patris, settled into the street, landing less than a hundred
feet from Gersen's hiding place. He pressed far back into the shad-
ows, flipped up the night-glasses, which now would only hinder and
confuse him.

Two men alighted from the air-car. Gersen grunted in disap-
pointment. Neither was Seuman Otwal; neither could possibly be

25S THE DEMON PRINCES

Kokor Hekkus. Both were short, compact, dark-skinned; both wore
tight dark garments and tight black hoods. They walked with quick
steps to the shop, peered into the interior and one made an impe-
rious gesture. Gersen lowered his night-glasses, glanced up to the
freight-carrier. It remained as before. Gersen raised the night-
glasses, returned to the two men from the air-car. Patch came for-
ward, marching with a swagger of unconvincing truculence. He
halted and spoke; the two nodded curtly, and one said a few words
into a microphone.

Patch turned, gestured; the fort walked out into the street, the
canvas bulging and jerking to the motion of the legs. Down from
the sky came the freight-carrier. Gersen watched with the certainty
that here the chain of events that had started on the Avente Espla-
nade was to dwindle and die.

Patch stepped back into the shop, one hand on each of his guns.
The two men in black ignored him; down now- from the air-ship
came a strong-back from which depended ten cables. The two men
clambered up to the top of the fort, shackled the cables to eyebolts
along the dorsal ridge. They jumped to the ground, gave a wave;

the fort was lofted away through the night. The two men went
quickly to their car without a backward glance for Patch, who stood
bristling and glaring defiance at their backs. The air-car swept off
into the dark; Patch and his shop were left, curiously forlorn and
bereft.

The doors to Workshop B closed; the street was dark and va-
cant. Gersen shifted from his cramped position. He felt defeated
and angry. Why, at least, had he not shot down the air-ship and
the fort? Kokor Hekkus might well have been aboard. Even if such
were not the case, the destruction of the fort would have infuriated
him, goaded him to some kind of action.

Gersen knew very well why he had not destroyed the fort. In-
decision had cramped his finger. He ached for the final confron-
tation. Kokor Hekkus must know why he died and who killed him.
To shoot him down in the dark was good, but not good enough.

How and where to win another opportunity? Perhaps through
Seuman Otwal and the Halkshire Hotel. Gersen stepped out into
the street. Three dark shapes sprang back in startlement; one gave
a hoarse order, and a beam of intense white light flooded forth to
blind Gersen. He snatched for his weapons; one of the shapes
scrambled forward, knocked down his arm; another swung a long

THE KJLLWG MACHINE

259

length of black cable; it coiled around Gersen's body almost as if
alive, to constrict his right arm and his thighs. There came another
coiling length of cable, snapping around his legs; Gersen tottered,
fell. His heavy weapons were kicked to the side, his knife and projac
snatched away.

The man holding the light advanced, turned it down at Gersen.
He chuckled. "Good enough. This one's the partner with the
money."

It was the cool easy voice of Seuman Otwal. Gersen said,
"You're wrong. Patch bought me out."

"Excellent. . .. Then you have money."

The light moved closer. "Search him, with care. This man
might well be dangerous."

Cautious fingers probed Gersen's person, found and removed
a throwing dagger, a prickle-sac half-full of anodyne, several other
devices that obviously puzzled the searchers. One said in a voice of
respectful wonder: "This one's a walking arsenal. I'd not like to
face him alone."

"Yes," said Seuman Otwal thoughtfully. "A strange sort to be
frowsting it as an artisan. A strange sort, indeed. . .. Well, no mat-
ter. The universe is full of strange sorts, as well we know. He is
now our guest, and we need not delay for Patch."

Down eased an air-boat. Gersen was hoisted into the hold; the
craft slid off and away through the Krokinole night.

Seuman Otwal presently looked into the hold. "You're a strange
man, Mr. Wall, or whatever your name is. You decked yourself out
with a variety of weapons, almost as if you knew how to use them;

you concealed yourself with such stealthy patience that we, who are
also stealthy and patient, had no inkling of your nearness; and then
without a look over your shoulder, you swagger out into the middle
of the street."

"It was a poor move," Gersen agreed.

"The initial folly was your partnership with Patch—and this is
useless to deny as we have informed ourselves—when it should have
been apparent that never would the bumptious Patch be paid for
the fort. He was forced to disgorge at Interchange; now it is your
turn. If you can tender us our SVU 1,681,490 at once, we will
quickly finalize the matter; if you choose not to do so—then I fear
you must make a space journey."

260 THE DEMON PRINCES

"1 don't have that much money," said Gersen. "Let me explain
the circumstances—"

"No, I cannot reason with you; I have far to go and much to
do. If you have no money, then you must act through the usual
channels."

"Interchange?" asked Gersen with a wintry smile.

"Interchange. I wish you good fortune, Mr. Wall, or whatever
your name; dealing with you has been a pleasure." Seuman Otwal
departed, and Gersen saw no more of him. He was transferred to
another ship, where he found himself in the company of three chil-
dren, two young women, three older women, and a middle-aged
man, presumably members of various wealthy Concourse families.
Time passed, how long Gersen could not know. He ate and slept
many times, but at last the ship became still; there was the familiar
but always unsettling wait as atmospheres equalized, then the pas-
sengers were led out upon the soil of Sasani, ushered into a bus,
and conveyed across the desert to Interchange.

In a small auditorium, one of the Interchange functionaries gave
them a briefing. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are glad to have you
with us, and we hope that during your stay you will try to rest,
relax, and enjoy yourselves. The facilities of Interchange are those
of a sanitarium; we allow a certain degree of social intercourse, so
long as decorum and courtesy is maintained. We encourage the
enjoyment of your special hobbies and certain sports, such as swim-
ming, chess, kalingo, tennis, the use of musical instruments, and the
chromatil. There are no facilities for hiking, gliding, bird-watching,
marathon-running, or exploration of the fascinating Sasani wilder-
ness. We offer six classes of accommodation ranging from
hyper-luxurious Class AA to the standard E, which is plain but by
no means uncomfortable. The cuisine is of eight standard catego-
ries, corresponding to the principal gastronomic habits of the Oik-
umene peoples. For persons who are habituated to other more
specialized diets, there is a special service at extra charge. We natter
ourselves that anyone can eat, if not with relish, at least with nour-
ishment, at Interchange.

"Our regulations are somewhat more firm than those of the
average pleasure resort, and I must warn you that surreptitious and
solitary ventures across the desert can only lead to inconvenience.
In the first place, there are numerous carnivorous insects. Secondly,
there is neither food nor water. Thirdly, the autochthonous inhab-

THE KILLING MACHINE 261

itants of Sasani, who leave their burrows only at night, are anthro-
pophages. Fourthly, we are required to protect the interests of our
clients, and the obstreperous individual (fortunately rare) soon finds
himself deprived of all privileges.

"I will now distribute forms among you. Please indicate your
choice of accommodation and cuisine. You will notice a list of reg-
ulations. Please read these carefully. You will find the personnel
courteous, if somewhat remote. They are well paid, so please do
not attempt to press gratuities upon anyone. We regard this ten-
dency with suspicion, and inquire carefully into the motives of those
who offer such inducements.

"Tomorrow you will be provided with means of communication
with those who might be expected to rescind your fees. That is all,
and thank you."

Gersen examined the form, and selected Class B accommoda-
tions, which allowed him full use of the institution's recreational
activities, as well as a modicum of privacy. He had eaten the food
of all the Oikumene—including Sandusk, he thought wryly, recal-
ling the shopkeeper of Ard Street—and indeed was not over-
fastidious. He checked the category "classic," the cuisine of
Alphanor, West Earth, and perhaps a third of the population of the
Oikumene.

He read the "Regulations," none of which were surprising or
ominous except Item 19: "Those persons who are in residence after
their period of prime rescission and who thereupon fall into the
'Available' category, must keep to their apartments during the
morning period in order to allow inspection by noncommitted vis-
itors who might be interested in paying rescission fees."

In due course, Gersen was taken to his apartment, which
seemed comfortable enough. The parlor contained a desk, a table,
several chairs, a green and black rug, a shelf stacked with periodi-
cals. The walls were mauve spattered with orange, the ceiling a foxy
russet. The bathroom included the usual facilities, with walls, floor,
and ceiling finished in seal-brown tile. The bed was narrow and
austerely padded, the infra-radiator suspended obtrusively from the
ceiling as in old-fashioned country inns.

Gersen bathed, dressed in the fresh garments provided, lay
down on his bed, and considered the possible directions of the fu-
ture. First, it was necessary to rid himself of the depression and
self-deprecation that had been his mood since Seuman Otwal's

262 THE DEMON PRINCES

white light had first flashed into his face. He had all too long con-
sidered himself invulnerable, protected by destiny—merely because
of the force of his motivations. It was perhaps his single supersti-
tion: the solipsistic conviction that, one after another, those five
individuals who had destroyed Mount Pleasant must die at his
hands. Persuaded by his faith, Gersen had neglected the common-
sense act of killing Seuman Otwal—and had suffered the conse-
quences.

He must rearrange his patterns of thinking. He had been com-
placent, doctrinaire, didactic in his approach. He had conducted
himself as if the success of his ambitions were preordained; as if he
were endowed with supernatural capacities. All quite wrong, Gersen
told himself. Seuman Otwal had taken him with ridiculous ease.
Seuman Otwal held him so cheap that he had not even bothered
to question him, but had flung him into a hold with the rest of his
bag. And Gersen's self-esteem was further mortified. He had not
previously appreciated the full extent of his vanity. Very well then,
he told himself: if absolute resourcefulness, absolute indomitability
were the basic elements of his nature, it was now time to put these
attributes to work.

Less angry—indeed, half-amused with his own earnestness—he
took stock of the situation. Tomorrow, if he so chose, he could
notify Patch of his predicament. There was nothing to be gained
by this. Gersen himself had the half-million paid him by Patch—
originally money supplied by Duschane Audmar—and perhaps an-
other seventy or eighty thousand from the money left him by his
grandfather. His rescission fee was a million SVU more than this:

a sum far beyond his ability to raise.

If Kokor Hekkus, or Seuman Otwal—the same man?—could
be convinced that he and Patch had parted company, they might
try to re-kidnap Patch and lower Gersen's fee to the money he had
received from the sale of his partnership. But Patch, if he were wise,
would take himself out of circulation. Gersen might be held at In-
terchange for months, or years. Eventually Interchange fees would
begin to eat into the sponsor's profit; the rescission fee would drop.
As soon as it reached half a million Gersen could buy his own way
out—unless an independent purchaser considered him worth more:

an unlikely circumstance.

In effect, Gersen was confined at Interchange for an indefinite
period.

THE KILLING MACHINE 263

What of escape? Gersen had never heard of escape from Inter-
change. If a person managed to elude the vigilance of the guards
and the careful system of alarms, tattletales, and trigger-beams,
where could he go? The desert was fatal by day, even more so by
night. Automatic weapons barred helpful spacecraft from the area.
No one departed Interchange except through death or the rescis-
sion of their fees. It occurred to Gersen to wonder about Alusz
Iphigenia Eperje-Tokay, the girl from Thamber. Her fee was ten
billion SVU, a fantastic sum: how close had Kokor Hekkus come
to paying it? How gratifying to rescind Alusz Iphigenia out from
under the very nose of Kokor Hekkus! A visionary dream, when he
could not rescind his own comparatively modest fee.

A gong sounded, to announce the evening meal. Gersen went
to his designated dining area along a blank-walled walk topped with
the tight interlacement of glass bands that characterized the avenues
and walkways of Interchange. The dining room was a high-
ceilinged room painted austerely gray. The guests ate at small in-
dividual tables and were served from carts passing back and forth.
There was a penal-colony atmosphere to the dining room that was
more or less absent from the rest of Interchange; Gersen could not
define its source, unless it was the isolation of the diners, the lack
of gossip or banter between the tables. The food was synthetic, of
poor color, not too well prepared, in quantities not too generous.
Even Gersen, who took no great interest in food, found the meal
unappetizing. If this was Class B cuisine, he wondered what Class
E was like. Perhaps not much different.

After dinner came the so-called social hour, in a large com-
pound domed against the dusty Sasani night wind. Here the entire
guest population of Interchange collected after the evening meal,
from boredom and curiosity: who had come, who had gone? At the
central kiosk, Gersen signed a chit for beer, carried the paper con-
tainer to a bench, seated himself. Perhaps two hundred other people
were in view: folk of all ages and races, some walking, a few playing
chess, a few conversing, others like himself drinking morosely on
the benches. There was no great gregariousness; everyone displayed
near-identical expressions: flat dislike for Interchange and every-
thing connected with it, including their fellow guests. Even the
children seemed infected by the general gloom, though they
showed a greater disposition to clot into groups. Perhaps twenty
young women were in evidence, even more aloof, injured, and in-

264 THE. DEMON PRINCES

dignant than the rest. Gersen inspected them with curiosity: which
was Alusz Iphigenia? If Kokor Hekkus were mad to possess her,
she must necessarily be extraordinarily beautiful; none here seemed
to fulfill the requirements. Nearby, a tall girl with striking red hair
gazed broodingly at her long fingers, each joint of which was
banded with a black metal sleeve identifying her as an Eginand of
Copus. Beyond, a small dark-skinned girl sipped wine; she seemed
winsome and appealing, but not one who would think to value her-
self at ten billion SVU.

There were others, but all seemed too old or too young, or of
no particular beauty—such as the young woman at the other end
of his bench who might just conceivably fit the requirements. Her
skin was pale, tinged with dusky ivory; she had clear gray eyes and
regular features; her hair was tawny blonde: in short she was not
unattractive but hardly in the ten billion SVU class. Gersen would
not have considered her a second time had it not been for a certain
insolent poise to her head, a certain cool intelligence of gaze. . . .
But no, for all her clear eyes and regular features, she was too
ordinary, too unexceptional. . . . The attendant who had served
Gersen on his previous visit crossed the compound, looking neither
right nor left. What was his name? Armand Koshiel. And Gersen
became more morose than before. . .. The social period ended; the
guests wandered away to their various suites, apartments, and
rooms.

The morning meal—tea, muffins, and compote—was served di-
rectly in the apartment, after which Gersen was summoned to the
central administration building, where he found himself in the com-
pany of several of the persons with whom he had come to Inter-
change.

Presently his name was called. He entered the office of a har-
ried-looking clerk, who gave him a perfunctory salute, and delivered
a well-rehearsed speech: "Mr. Wall, seat yourself, if you will. From
your point of view your presence here is a misfortune; from ours,
you are a guest to be treated with courtesy and dignity. We are
anxious to improve the light in which we are regarded; we will take
all practical means to that end. Now you are here sponsored by Mr.
Kokor Hekkus. His demand is for the sum of SVU 1,681,490, and
I now inquire how you propose to secure this sum." He waited
expectantly.

"I wish I knew," said Gersen. "It is totally unrealistic."

THE KILLING MACHINE 265

The official nodded. "Many of our guests find their fees exces-
sive. As you know, we have no control over the fees demanded; we
can only advise the sponsor to moderation, and the guest to a co-
operative attitude. Now then—can you raise this sum?"

"No."

"What of your family?"

"Nonexistent."

"Friends?"

"I have no friends."

"Business associates?"

"None."

The clerk sighed. "Then you must remain here until one of
these events occurs: the sponsor may lower his demands to a fea-
sible sum. Fifteen days after the date your associates have first had
opportunity to appear in your behalf you go on an 'available' basis,
and the sponsorship fee may be paid by anyone, who then receives
you into custody. After a certain period, unless board and room
bills are regularly met, we may be forced to release custody to a
noncommitted visitor for the extent of these bills. So then?"

"I can't meet the figure. I have no one to notify."

"We will state as much to your sponsor. Do you care to name
the maximum figure you can pay?"

"About half a million," said Gersen reluctantly.

"I will so inform your sponsor. In the meantime, Mr. Wall, I
trust that you find your visit not too unpleasant."

"Thank you."

Gersen was conducted back to his apartment, and presently re-
leased to the dining room for lunch.

During the afternoon, the recreational facilities of Interchange
were made free to him. There were minor sports, crafts, games; he
could exercise at a gymnasium, swim in a pool. Or he could remain
in his apartment. Visiting the apartment or room of another guest
was forbidden.

Several days passed. Gersen became tense and charged with the
need for activity. There was no scope to release this pressure except
in exercise at the gymnasium. He pondered escape. It seemed im-
possible; there was no place to start.

During the social hour of the third day, Gersen, turning away
from the kiosk with beer, came face to face with Armand Koshiel,
whose schedule apparently brought him through the compound at

THI- DEMON PRINCES

266

about this time Koshiel murmured a polite apology, stepped aside,
then turned a puz/led glance backward

Gersen grinned ruefully "Conditions have altered since our last
meeting "

"So I see," said Koshiel "I remember you well It's Mr Gas-
son3 Mr Gnsson7"

"Wall," said Gersen "Howard Wall "

"Of course Mr Wall " Koshiel shook his head in bemused
wonder "Isn't it strange the way fate works7 But now, sir, I must
be off We aren't allowed to chat with the guests "

"Tell me something Plow close to ten billion SVU has Kokor
Hekkus achieved7"

"He progresses, he approaches, so I understand All of us here
are interested, it's the largest fee ever to be rescinded "

Gersen felt an irrational pang of anger—or perhaps jealousy
"Does the woman come down to the compound7"

"I have seen her here on occasion " Koshiel made tentative
efforts to sidle away

"What does she look like7"

Koshiel knit his brows, glanced furtively over his shoulder
"She's by no means what you might expect Not a clever jolly type,
if you know what I mean Please excuse me, Mr Wall, I must be
off, or face reprimand "

Gersen went to his usual bench, seething with a new set of
dissatisfactions this unknown woman, by all logical processes,
should mean nothing to him.    Such was not the case Gersen
puzzled over himself and his motives How and why had he become
fascinated7 Because ofAlusz Iphigenia's self-appraised value often
billion SVU7 The fact that Kokor Hekkus, in all his egotism and
arrogance, was about to possess her7 (The thought awoke a peculiar
fury in him) Because of her asserted origin, mythical Thamber7
Because of the stirrings of his own sternly repressed romanticism7
Whatever the cause, Gersen scrutinized the compound seeking the
beautiful girl who might be Alusz Iphigema ofThamber She def-
initely was not the small dark girl, nor the red-haired Egmand from
Gopus Fhe taw nv-blonde girl with the withdrawn manner was not
in evidence, but she hardly qualified 1 hough, Gersen reflected, her
eyes were an exceedingly lucent grey and no exception could be
taken to her figure, which was rather slight and delicate, but per-

IHL k!LH\G \1ACHl\h

267

fectly proportioned The gong sounded, he returned to his apart-
ment disappointed and roiling with uneasiness

1 he next day passed, Gersen waited impatiently for the social
period It finally arrived, a new woman was present She was lithe
and supple, with long legs, a long patrician face, a dazzling roll of
bright white hair, intricately coiffed Gersen inspected her carefully
No, he decided with a feeling of relief this could not be Alusz
Iphigema of Thamher, this woman was too intricate, too artificial
She might well value herself at ten billion SVU, and Gersen was
almost willing that Kokor Hekkus should pay such an amount and
take possession The tawny-blonde girl did not appear Gersen re-
turned to his apartment in disgust and vexation WT-ule he was pent
and helpless, Kokor Hekkus was easing in upon his quarry To
distract himself, Gersen read old magazines until midnight.

The following day was like those previous they began to merge,
lose identity At lunch there were two new members to his group
Gersen overheard a comment that identified the newcomers as Fy-
chus Hasselberg, First Chairman of the JarneH Corporation, and
Skerde Vorek, Director of Forestlands, both of Earth, both mil-
lionaires several hundred times over Two steps closer to the goal,
thought Gersen sourly

During the afternoon he exercised in the gymnasium At dinner
the food seemed more than ordinarily tasteless Gersen went to the
"social hour" in a surly mood He provided himself a mug of musty
Sasani wine, and seated himself in expectation of another dreary
evening. Half an hour passed, then at the entrance to the compound
appeared the tawny-blonde girl Tonight she seemed even more
abstracted than on the former occasion Gersen watched her in-
tently actually, he thought, she was really not plain Her features
were so perfect, so perfectly placed as to make her face seem un-
remarkable—but certainly she was not plain He watched her pro-
cure a mug of tea at the central kiosk, then she came to sit on a
bench not far from Gersen He studied her with great interest, his
pulse moving rather swiftly Why7 he asked himself in irritation
Why did this young woman, at best conventional^ attractive, affect
him to such an extent7

He rose, walked to where she sat "May I join you7" he asked

"If you care to," she said after fust sufficient hesitation to in-
dicate that she'd rather sit quietly by herself Her voice had a pleas-
ant archaic swing, and Gersen tried to place her accent "Excuse

268

THE DEMON PRINCES

me for being curious," he said, "but are you Alusz Iphigenia Eperje-

Tokay?"

"I am Alusz Iphigenia Eperje-Tokay," she said, correcting his

pronunciation.

Gersen drew a deep breath. His instinct had been correct! From
close at hand, and looking into her face, her quiet good looks
seemed somewhat less quiet. She might almost be termed hand-
some. It was her eyes, he thought, that gave life to her face. Beauty?
Sufficient to urge Kokor Hekkus to such flamboyant exertions? It
seemed unlikely. "And your home is on the planet Thamber?"
She turned him another brief incurious look. "Yes,"
"Do you know that to most people Thamber is an imaginary

world, a place of legend and ballad?"

"So I have learned, to my surprise. I assure you it is far from
imaginary." She sipped her tea, gave Gersen another swift glance.
Her eyes, large, clear, candid, were her best feature, and these were
undoubtedly beautiful. But now, a subtle shift in her position in-
dicated disinterest in further conversation.

"I wouldn't bother you," said Gersen stiffly, "except for the
fact that your fiance Kokor Hekkus has brought me here, and I

regard him as my enemy."

Alusz Iphigenia reflected a moment. "You act unwisely in re-
garding him as an enemy."

"Suppose he rescinds your fee, what then?"
She shrugged. "It is a matter I do not care to discuss."
Gersen thought, yes, she is beyond doubt handsome; even more
than handsome: when she spoke, even when she thought, her fea-
tures took on a luminosity, a vitality that transfigured even ordinary

features.

Gersen was at a loss for a means to continue the conversation.

Finally he asked, "Do you know Kokor Hekkus well?"

"Not well. He keeps for the most part to Misk, the Land Be-
yond the Mountains. My home is Draszane in Gentilly."

"How were you able to come here? Do many spaceships come

to Thamber?"

"No." She turned him a sudden sharp glance. "Who are you?

Are you one of his spies?"

Gersen shook his head. Looking into her face, he thought with
amazement. Did I ever think this girl plain? She is beautiful, inexpress-
ibly so. He said, "If I were free, I could help you."

THE KILLING A-IACHINE 269

She laughed, rather cruelly. "How can you help me, when you
can't even help yourself?" And Gersen felt an unfamiliar red flush
seep across his face. He rose to his feet. "Good night."

Alusz Iphigenia said nothing; Gersen stalked off to his apart-
ment. He showered and threw himself on his bed. Suppose he com-
municated with Duschane Audmar? Pointless; Audmar would not
even bother to send him a refusal. Myron Patch? More than point-
less. Ben Zaum? He might be able to raise five or ten thousand
SVU, no more. . . . Gersen picked up one of the old magazines,
flicked through the pages. ... A face looked forth, one which he
seemed to recognize. Gersen glanced down at the caption. The
name, Daeniel Trembath, was unknown to him. .. . Strange. Ger-
sen flipped the page. The face was extremely like that of—of
whom? Gersen turned back to the face. He had known this man as
"Mr. Hoskins"; he had brought back his corpse from Bissom's End.
Gersen read the caption in full:

Daeniel Trembath, Arch-Director of the Bank ofRigel,
now retiring. Fifty-one years his Excellency the Director
has served the great bank and the peoples of the Concourse;

last week he announced his retirement. What are his future
plans? "I will rest. I have worked hard and long; perhaps
too hard and too long. Now I will take time to enjoy the
aspects of life denied me by my responsibilities."

Gersen looked at the date of the magazine. It was Cosmopolis
for January, 1525. Three months later Trembath disappeared: a
week or so afterwards he was dead, by the act of Billy Windle—
who might be Kokor Hekkus—on an unpleasant little world Be-
yond. Gersen, now wide awake, thought back across the months.
Why would the retired Arch-Director of the great Bank of Rigel
travel so remotely, so secretly to deal with the man who called
himself Billy Windle? Trembath had wanted perpetual youth: what
did he have to offer in exchange? By the very nature of his career,
it could be nothing but money. The meeting at Skouse had oc-
curred immediately after Alusz Iphigenia had taken sanctuary at
Interchange; the concatenation of places, events, and personalities
was intriguing. Kokor Hekkus wanted money—ten billion SVU.
Daeniel Trembath, Arch-Director (retired) of the Bank of Rigel,
was the very symbol of money—and also conservative respectabil-

THE DEMON PRINCES

270

ity. Why had the IPCC wanted his return, dead or alive? Surely
Trembath had not stolen ten billion SVU? Gersen remembered the
fragment of paper he had taken from Mr. Hoskins at Skouse. He
strove to recall the words, now suddenly so pregnant with possi-
bility:

—crimps, or more properly, bands of density. These ap-
parently occur at random, though in practice they are so
casual as to be imperceptible. The critical spacing is in
terms of the square root of the first eleven primes. The
occurrence of six or more such crimps at any of the des-
ignated locations will validate—

The conclusions to be drawn were staggering. There was likewise
an aspect to the situation that was the very soul of tragicomedy.
Gersen jumped to his feet, paced back and forth across his apart-
ment. If circumstances were as he suspected, how could he take
advantage of his knowledge?

He thought for an hour, formulating and discarding var-
ious schemes. The crafts and hobby shop seemed the key to the
situation. The activities encouraged would be simple and easily
supervised: wood-carving, puppetry, embroidery, shawl-weaving,
water-colors, glass-melting. Possibly photography.. .. The morn-
ing passed with a dismal slowness. Gersen sat sprawled in the most
comfortable of his chairs. A delightful variation to his scheme oc-
curred to him; he laughed aloud-. . . Immediately after lunch, he
visited the hobby room. It was more or less as he had expected: a
large room equipped with looms, pots of modeling clay, paints,
beads, wire, various other paraphernalia. The attendant in charge
was a corpulent man of early middle-age, bald, with small doll-like
features in a round face. He answered Gersen's questions with a
reasonable degree of patience. No; there were no facilities for pho-
tographic work. Several years ago an effort had been made in this
direction, but the project had been abandoned: the equipment re-
quired too much maintenance, had occupied too much of his time.
Gersen put forward a delicately phrased proposal; He, Gersen, was
almost certain to be a guest for a month or perhaps two; prior to
his coming he had been experimenting with certain novel art-forms
involving photography, and he wished to continue his activities—

THE KILLING MACHINE

271

to such an extent that he would be willing to purchase the necessary
equipment.

The attendant considered, with a wet pursing of the mouth.
The project seemed to entail a great deal of trouble—for Gersen,
for himself, for everyone involved. In theory, of course, it was con-
ceivable, but—he gave an eloquent shrug of the shoulders. Gersen
uttered a reassuring laugh: any extra attention on the attendant's
part—what was his name? Funian Lubby—would be adequately, or
even, Gersen amended cautiously, generously rewarded. Lubby
sighed heavily. Interchange policy dictated full cooperation with the
guests, within understandable limits. If Mr. Wall insisted, Lubby
could only do as he required. As to the remuneration Mr. Wall had
suggested, it was against Interchange policy, but Mr. Wall must be
the judge of what was right. How soon could Lubby provide the
proper equipment? asked Gersen. If Mr. Wall provided a list and
the necessary funds, an order could be placed at Sagbad, the largest
nearby trade center: delivery could be expected tomorrow at the
earliest; more likely the day following.

Excellent, said Gersen. He seated himself, wrote out a list. It
was long, and included a number of items intended to obscure Ger-
sen's primary purpose. Lubby pursed his lips hugely, in surprise and
automatic disapprobation. Gersen said hurriedly, "I realize that this
makes enormous inconvenience for you: is a hundred SVU suffi-
cient compensation for your extra effort?"

"You understand," said Lubby sternly, "that regulations forbid
the transfer of funds between guests and personnel. In a case of this
sort, the money involved is merely a means of providing the craft
shop with sorely needed equipment—since I presume you will leave
these items here on your departure?"

Gersen did not wish to seem too eager. "I suppose so. Some of
them at least—those that duplicate my own equipment at home."
All in all, he was highly encouraged. That Lubby could speak so
openly indicated that the craft shop was not under remote surveil-
lance. "What do you think this material and equipment will cost?"
he inquired.

Lubby appraised the list. "Megaphot camera . . . Chago en-
larger and printer. . . Ball microscope. Expensive items all. . . .
Tanglemat duplicator.. . . What would you be needing that for?"

"I prepare kaleidoscopic permutations of natural objects," said

THE DEMON PRINCES

272

Gersen. "Sometimes twenty or thirty copies of a single print are
needed, and I find the duplicator convenient."

"It will cost a fortune," grumbled Funian Lubby, "but if you're
willing to pay for it—"

"Yes, if I must," said Gersen. "I dislike spending money, but I
like two months away from my hobby even less."

"Understandable." Lubby glanced down the list. "This is an
impressive list of chemicals. I hope," he said with a sardonic twist
of the lips, "that you are not planning to blow up the institution,
and thus destroy my livelihood."

Gersen laughed at the joke. "I'm sure you are sufficiently
knowledgeable to forestall anything of this nature. No, there are
no explosives, corrosives, or noxious substances here: only inks,
dyes, photosensitives, and the like."

"So I see. I am by no means uninformed in these matters. I am
an accredited Scientific Academician of Boomaraw College on Lor-
gan, and in fact have done research on the flatfish of the Neuster
Ocean, until my appointment was canceled—another regressive
trick of the Institute, of that I am sure."

"Yes, a sad situation," Gersen agreed. "A person wonders
where it will end. Do they want to make cavemen of us all?"

"Who knows what the wretched malcontents hope for? I have
heard that they are slowly acquiring control of the Jarnel Corpo-
ration, that when they finally secure their 51 percent—then pfai!
no more spaceships, no more travel. What will that do to us?
Where will that leave me? Without a job, if I am so unfortunate as
still to be alive. No, I spit on those people."

Gersen had been inspecting the craft room. "WTiere can I work
to be the least obtrusive? Preferably in some corner where I can
throw up a screen to keep out the light. Naturally any effort on
your part I am willing to pay for: indeed if there were a disused
storeroom, or something of the sort.. . ."

"Yes." Funian Lubby heaved himself to his feet. "Let us look.
The old sculpting studio is no longer in use; guests nowadays care
nothing for serious work."

The studio was octagonal, the walls were native wood varnished
a sour brown; the floor was stained yellow brick, the ceiling rose to
a skylight through which came a grayish, almost mauve, illumina-
tion. "I'll block out the light," said Gersen. "Otherwise the room
is quite suitable." To test the degree of freedom from surveillance

THE KILLING MACHINE

273

he said, "Now I understand that the rules forbid the exchange of
money between guests and personnel, still rules are made to be
broken, and it is not fair that you should go to extra exertion with-
out reimbursement. You agree?"

"I think you have expressed my point of view exactly."

"Good. What goes on in this old studio then concerns no one
but you and me. While I am not a wealthy man, I am not parsi-
monious, and I am willing to pay for my pleasures." He brought
forth his checkbook, wrote a draft for 3,000 SVU upon the Bank
of Rigel. "This should pay for all the items of my list and leave
enough to compensate you."

Lubby puffed out his cheeks. "That should do very nicely. I
will give your order special attention, and who knows? the equip-
ment may be here tomorrow."

Gersen went away well satisfied. His hopes might be based on
a set of false premises—but checking and rechecldng, he felt secure.
How could it be otherwise?

But he needed one more item, the most important of all. This
job he dared not entrust to Funian Lubby, except as a last resort.
He made out another draft for twenty thousand SVU, tucked it
into his pocket.

That night, Alusz Iphigenia made no appearance at the social
hour. Gersen did not care. He walked slowly back and forth, watch-
ing, waiting, and then just as he was about to give up hope, Armand
Koshiel appeared, taking a short cut through the compound. Ger-
sen approached him as casually as possible. "I am going to walk
past the waste-paper bin," he said. "I will drop a scrap of paper.
Come behind me, pick it up. You will find a draft for twenty thou-
sand SVU. Get me a ten thousand SVU note on the Bank of Rigel.
Keep the remaining ten thousand." Without waiting for a reply he
turned away, sauntered toward the kiosk. From the corner of his
eye he saw Koshiel give a slight shrug, then continue the way he
was going.

At the kiosk, Gersen bought a sack of sweets. Pausing at the
waste-paper bin he tossed aside the sack into which he had tucked
the bank draft, and crossing to a bench seated himself.

The crumpled bit of paper beside the bin looked large, white,
and conspicuous. Here came Koshiel back across the compound.
He went to the kiosk, spoke a jocular word to the attendant, se-
lected a bag of sweets for himself, tossed the paper toward the bin.

THF DEMON PRINCES

274

He bent after it, picked up Gersen's bag, seemed to drop them both
into the bin, and walked away.

Gersen went to his apartment, nerves tingling His scheme had
been set into motion Too much optimism would be foolish, but
so far all went well A hidden monitor might have observed Koshiel
pick up the bank draft, Funian Lubby might impose too much su-
pervision upon him, or so much new equipment might attract the
attention of persons less genial than Lubby Still—so far, so good

The following day he looked briefly into the crafts room Lubby
was occupied with a pair of children who in their boredom had
turned to mask-making The equipment would not be delivered
until the morrow, said Lubby, and Gersen departed.

The evening social hour passed with neither Koshiel nor Alusz
Iphigema making an appearance On the following day, when Ger-
sen returned to his apartment after breakfast he found an envelope
on his desk containing a green and pink SVU 10,000 bank note
Gersen tested it with his fake-meter, which, with a few other per-
sonal effects, he had been allowed to keep The meter gave a sat-
isfactory acknowledgment. So far, so good. Gersen dared make no
further experiments; he might even then be under scrutiny. So far,
so good. But his equipment still had not arrived, and Funian Lubby
seemed in a bad mood, Gersen returned to his apartment seething
with impatience Never had a day passed so slowly, though fortu-
nately the Sasani day was only twenty-one hours long

On the afternoon following, Funian Lubby indicated a set of
cartons with an affable wave of his fat hand. "There you are, Mr
Wall. A fine set of equipment, and you can go about your prisms
or kaleidoscopes, whatever it is you do, with all your might."

"Thank you, Mr. Lubby, I'm very pleased," said Gersen. He
earned the cartons into the old sculpting studio, and with Lubby
assisting and crooning m pleasure, unpacked them

"I'm anxious to see your work," said Lubby "One can always
learn, and this is a creative technique I have never observed before "

"It's a very detailed process," said Gersen "Some people even
find it tedious, but I enjoy slow careful work. The first step, I think,
is to close off the skylight and light-seal the door "

With Lubby steadying the ladder, Gersen stapled opaque cloth
across the skylight, then prepared a sign that read Photographic
Darkroom—Knock before Entering, and attached it to the door

THE KILL f\G VI 1CH1\E

27-i

"Now," he said, "I'm ready to begin " He considered. "I think I'll
start with a simple reiteration in green and pink "

With Lubby watching with vast interest, Gersen solemnly pho-
tographed a pin, enlarged it ten diameters, prepared a master copy
from which he printed thirty copies in green and thirty in pink on
the autolith

"What ncxt^" asked Lubby

"Now we come to the painstaking part of the )ob Fach of these
pins must be carefully cut from the background 7 hen \\ith pins
and pin-shaped holes, I create the reiteration If you desire you may
do the cutting while I formulate the correct color of ink "

Lubby looked dubiously at the stack of prints "All these are to
be cut out^"

"Yes, very carefully "

Lubby unenthusiastically set to work Gersen watched closely,
giving advice and stressing the need for absolute accuracy I'hen,
borrowing Lubby's slide-rule, he calculated the square root of the
first eleven prime numbers values ranging from 1 to 4 79 Lubby
meanwhile had cut out three pins, making a single small mistake
Gersen complained aggnevedly Lubby put down the scissors
"This is extremely interesting, but I fear I must look to other mat-
ters "

As soon as he had gone, Gersen compared the 10,000 SVU
bank note with the pink and green pins, adiusted the colors, added
a mordant and a catalyst, and printed further pins

He glanced into the outer studio, Lubby was busy with the
children Gersen took the note to the microscope, and—as so many
of thousands had done before him—examined it with an eye to
discovering the secret of its authenticity Like the thousands before
him, he discovered no such quality Now—the key experiment,
upon which the success of the entire pro)ect depended He selected
paper of density and weight similar to the bank note, cut a rectangle
to the si/e of the note Precisely five by two and quarter inches He
passed the paper through the fake-meter the alarm-light glowed
Now Gersen laid off points along the length of the paper rectangle
corresponding to the square roots he had computed Next he laid
a straight-edge across the paper and at each pair of points scored a
cross mark with the point of a nail—thus, so he hoped "crimping"
and "compressing" the fibers With trembling fingers he lifted the
fake-meter    The door opened, into the room came Funian

I HE DEMON PRINCES

276

Lubby. With one motion Gersen slid fake-meter, bank note, and
paper rectangle into his pocket, with another, he picked up scissors
and prints, simulated intent creativity Lubby was disappointed to
find that with so much equipment so little had been produced He
expressed himself to this effect, Gersen explained that he had been
recalculating certain aesthetic laws a tedious process If Lubby so
desired, he could expedite the process by cutting out more pins,
very carefully Lubby declared himself unable to be of further as-
sistance. Gersen cut out a few of the pins while Lubby watched,
arranged them with extreme care on the tabletop Lubby looked
over the pink and green test panels that Gersen had set under a
lamp "Are these the only two colors you will use^"

"At least for this present composition," said Gersen "Pink and
green, though they might seem somewhat obvious or even naive,
are for my purposes absolutely essential "

Lubby grunted. "They appear particularly bland: even faded."
"True," said Gersen. "I have added certain agents to the pig-
ments, it appears that the light tends to bleach them "

Lubby presently returned to the main room Gersen brought
forth his fake-meter, passed the paper rectangle into the slot. No
red light, but rather the heart-warming buzz of authenticity, the
most musical sound of Gersen's existence

He looked at his watch the period was almost at an end There
was no time for further work

At the social hour, Alusz Iphigema made an appearance, to
stand aloofly at the back of the compound Gersen made no attempt
to approach her, and, so far as he could tell, she seemed indifferent
to his existence   . He had thought her plain' He had considered
her features uninteresting' They were perfect, she was the most
entrancing thing he had ever seen Ten billion SVU3 A pittance'
He could almost applaud Kokor Hekkus' discrimination    Ger-
sen could hardly wait to return to the craft shop

But the following afternoon found Funian Lubby at his most
tiresome There were no other hobbyists present, and for two hours
Lubby sat gaping with eyes protuberant and fascinated as Gersen
cut paper pins, arranged and rearranged them with frowning con-
centration, his whole soul aching with the wish that Lubby depart

The day was wasted Gersen left the shop seething with sup-
pressed fury

The following day he fared better. Lubby was busy. Gersen

THEKILLI\G VMCHI\E

277

photographed the bank note with serial number masked, printed
two hundred copies with carefully prepared inks The day after, on
the pretext of exposing large areas of photo-sensitive paper, he
locked the door Then, contriving a )ig, he crimped the new notes,
and using a to\ printing press, printed new serial numbers The
notes looked about the same as the genuine, they had a somewhat
different feel—but what matter3 They satisfied the fake-meter

As Gersen ate dinner he pondered his final problem how to
rescind his fees without arousing suspicion If he merely presented
himself at the office, the question would be raised as to how the
money had come into his possession    He could think of no prac-
tical or feasible means to have a parcel delivered to him Certainly
he could not trust Koshiel with so much money

He decided that he needed more information During the social
hour, he went to the office of the assistant ordmator, a weasel-faced
man wearing the dark blue Interchange uniform as if it were a
privilege Gersen put on a face of worry "I have something of a
problem," he told the ordinator "It has been reported to me that
an old friend is coming here tomorrow to rescind one of the guests
Can it be arranged that I look into the bureau when the bus arrives
from the spaceport^"

The ordmator frowned. " I his is a somewhat irregular request "

"I realize this," said Gersen, "houever Interchange policy is to
facilitate the rescission of fees, and such is the case here "

"Very well," said the ordinator "Be here at this office tomor-
row immediately after the morning meal, and I will arrange the
matter "

Gersen went to the compound, paced back and forth, drank
quantities of wine to quiet his nerves The night passed, he choked
down a few bites of breakfast, hurried to the office of the ordinator,
who pretended to have forgotten the arrangement. Gersen patiently
restated his case

"Oh, very well," said the ordinator "I suppose we can't expect
every rescission to work through the proper channels " He con-
ducted Gersen to an antechamber or the reception room Here they
waited

'1 he archaic old bus arrived, discharged eight passengers They
filed into the reception room

"WelP" asked the ordmator "Is one of- these your friend^"

"Yes indeed," said Gersen "That short man with the blue skin-

THE DEMON PRINCES

278

tone. I'll just speak a word or two to him and arrange my rescis-
sion." Before the ordinator could object, Gersen went out into the
reception room, approached the man he had designated. "Excuse
me; aren't you Myron Patch ofPatris?"

"No sir. I am no such individual."

"My mistake." Gersen returned to the ordinator, carrying an
envelope. "Everything is well. He has brought my money. I am a
free man."

The ordinator grunted. The event seemed rather peculiar—but
weren't peculiar events part of life? "Your friend came to rescind
you and someone else also?"

"Yes. He is a member of the Institute and doesn't care to dis-
play too much cordiality."

The ordinator grunted again. All was explained—at least, all
seemed to be explained. "Very well," he said, "if you have your
money, go rescind yourself- I'll say a word to the clerk, since the
process is somewhat irregular."

When the bus departed Interchange, Gersen was aboard. At
Nichae he hired an air-car and was taken to the city Sagbad.

Five days later, wearing black skin-tone, black and brown tunic with
black breeches, Gersen returned to Interchange aboard the antique
bus. He went into the now-familiar office, submitted to the offi-
ciousness of the clerk. "And whom do you wish to rescind?"

"Alusz Iphigenia Eperje-Tokay."

The clerk's eyebrows rose. "You, sir, are Kokor Hekkus?" He
spoke with awe.

"No."

The clerk made nervous movements. "The fee is large. Ten

billion SVU."

Gersen opened the flat black case he was carrying, withdrew
packets of bank notes in 100,000 SVU denominations: the largest
in circulation. "Here is the money."

"Yes, ves. . .. But—well, I must inform you that Kokor Hekkus
has already deposited with us over nine billion SVU."

"Here is ten billion. Count it."

The clerk made a flustered sound. "You are within your rights.
The guest is admittedly 'available.' " With trembling fingers he
touched the money. "I will need help to count so much money."

Counting and fake-metering the money occupied six men four

THE KILLING ^lACHINE 279

hours. The clerk signed a receipt with a nervous flourish. "Very
well, sir; here you are. I will send for the guest whose fees you have
rescinded. She will be here at once." And he muttered under his
breath: "Kokor Hekkus will not enjoy this. Someone will suffer."

Ten minutes later Alusz Iphigenia arrived at the office. Her face
was strained and wild; her eyes were bright with fear. She stared at
Gersen without recognizing him; then went to the door as if to run
out across the desert. Gersen restrained her. "Calm yourself," he
told her. "I am not Kokor Hekkus; I have no designs upon you:

consider yourself safe."

She looked at him incredulously, looked again, and now Gersen
thought she recognized him.

"There is another matter," said the clerk. He addressed Alusz
Iphigenia. "Since you are acting in the peculiar capacity of your
own sponsor, the money, minus our 12'/2 percent fee, is yours."

Alusz Iphigenia stared at him apparently without comprehen-
sion. "I suggest," said Gersen, "that you prepare a bank draft, so
that she need not carry around so much negotiable currency."

There was a flurry of consultation, a shrugging of shoulders, a
flutter of hands; finally the bank draft was drawn upon the Planetary
Bank of Sasani at Sagbad, in the sum of SVU 8,749,993,581: ten
billion minus 12 Vi percent, minus charges of SVU 6,419 for special
AA accommodation.

Gersen scrutinized the document with suspicion. "Presumably
this is a valid draft? You have funds to cover?"

"Naturally," declared the official. "Indeed, Kokor Hekkus has
deposited to our account a sum appreciably in excess of this
amount."

"Very well," said Gersen, "this is acceptable." He turned to
Alusz Iphigenia. "Come. The bus is waiting."

Still she hesitated, looking right and left as if again contem-
plating flight across the Da'ar-Rizm. But now one of the flying
black insects struck her, clung to her arm; she brushed it off with
a cry of fear.

"Come," said Gersen once again. "You can have either Kokor
Hekkus, the insects, or me; and I will neither violate you or eat you
alive."

Without further protest, she followed him to the bus. It
lurched, roared, rumbled: Interchange became a white and gray
tumble dimly glimpsed through the dust.

280 THE DEMON PRINCES

They sat side by side in the lurching bus. Then Alusz turned a
puzzled sidelong glance at Gersen. "Who are you?"

"No friend of Kokor Hekkus."

"What are—what are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing discreditable."

"Where are we going then? You don't understand the nature
of Kokor Hekkus; he will track us to the corners of the galaxy."

Gersen had no comment to make; the conversation came to an
end. In truth Gersen felt none too secure; they were still vulnerable
to interception. But the journey across the barrens passed without
incident.

The bus bounced into Sul Arsam; they boarded the waiting air-
ship and presently came down at the Nichae spaceport. To the side
stood the sleek new Armintor Starskip Gersen had bought in Sag-
bad. Alusz Iphigenia hesitated before she went aboard, then gave a
fatalistic shrug.

In Sagbad, there was a further delay at the Planetary Bank.
Interchange provided a hesitant and worried verification, sensing
something incorrect, yet at a loss to discover where. The chairman
of the Planetary Bank reluctantly told Gersen, "Through a set of
extraordinary circumstances, we have the sum in our vaults, rep-
resenting a set of large deposits from Interchange. They are in
notes of various denominations—"

"No matter; we will accept your count," said Gersen.

The money, Kokor Hekkus' laboriously accumulated hoard,
was packed into four cases, carried out into the hired air-car.

Now the Head Cashier came running out into the area. "A
communication from Interchange! For Mr. Wall!"

Gersen controlled his impulse to flee. He returned into the
bank. On the visiphone screen appeared the face of the Director;

behind stood a man Gersen did not recognize.

"Mr. Wall," said the Director, "there have been difficulties: this
is Achill Gogan, representing Kokor Hekkus. He earnestly desires
that you wait at Sagbad until he is able to confer with you."

"Certainly," said Gersen. "He may look for us at the Alamut
Hotel."

Gersen departed the bank, entered the air-car where Alusz Iph-
igenia waited despondently with the money. "To the spaceport,"
he told the pilot.

THE KILLING MACHINE 281

Twenty minutes later Sasani lay behind them; engaging the in-
tersplit, Gersen finally felt secure. The relief was intoxicating. He
sat down on a settee and began to laugh. Alusz Iphigenia, across
the cabin, watched with guarded interest. "Why do you laugh?"

"Because of how we were rescinded."

" 'We'?"

So she had not recognized him after all. Gersen came slowly
across the cabin, and she moved back a distrustful half-inch. "One
evening I spoke to you in the compound," said Gersen.

She studied him. "Now I remember you. The quiet man who
sits in the shadows. How did you find so much money?"

"I printed it myself—and this is what amuses me."

She stared at him in bewilderment. "But they tested it! They
accepted it!"

"Exactly. But here is the greatest joke of all: there is bleach in
the ink. In a week they will have nothing. The money I paid Kokor
Hekkus will be blank paper; the ten billion SVU will be blank pa-
per. I have swindled Kokor Hekkus! I have swindled Interchange!
Look: there is Kokor Hekkus' money!"

Alusz Iphigenia considered him dispassionately, then turned to
look back toward Sasani. She smiled: a pensive smile. "Kokor Hek-
kus will be angry. No man alive has such extravagant emotions as
Kokor Hekkus." She gave Gersen a look of something like wonder.
"He would spend ten billion to gain me—because I chose to make
this my price. And after he bought me"—she shuddered—"he
would derive ten billion SVU worth of use from me, by one means
or another. WTien he gets you what he will do—is unthinkable."

"Unless I kill him first."

"You will find it difficult. Sion Trumble is the cleverest war
chief of Thamber, and he has failed."

Gersen went to the galley, brought back a bottle of wine with
two goblets. Alusz Iphigenia first made a negative motion, then
thought better of it, and accepted the goblet. Gersen asked, "Do
you know why I rescinded you?"

"No." But she fidgeted uncomfortably and a slow pink flush
came into her face. Never, thought Gersen, had she seemed more
beautiful. "Because you can guide me to Thamber, where I will find
Kokor Hekkus and kill him."

The pink flush slowly subsided. She tasted the wine, gazed re-

282

TW DEMON PRINCFS

nectively into the goblet "I do not want to return to Thamber. I
desperately fear Kokor Hekkus. He will now be insane with anger "

"Nevertheless, that is where we must go."

She shook her head pensively "I cannot help you Where
Thamber lies I do not know."

The captured revolutionary Tedoro exhorts his fellow
prisoners

Allow nothing' Yield not so much as a quarter-inch' Eat
the food they give you, concede no more' Who are they
but villains3 Shame them' Defy them' Hesitation is a crack
m the steel, do you want them to bend you this way and
that and snap you in two5 Give nothing, yield nothing' If
the commandant permits that you may sit, prefer to stand'
If he gives you lined paper on which to write, write across
the lines'

Gersen stared at Alusz Iphigema incredulously Then he jumped
up to the control deck, disengaged the mtersplit- The fabric of the
ship exuded its almost human sigh of shock, the skin seemed to
twitch along their bodies.

Motors dead, the Armintor Starskip drifted free in space. Aquila
GB 1202 shone far astern, teetering at the edge of the psychological
distinction between sun and star.

Gersen went into the head, showered away the black skin-tone,
dressed in his usual space-garb shorts, sandals, a light singlet He
returned to the saloon to find Alusz Iphigema sitting where he had
left her, gazing at the floor

Gersen said nothing, but seated himself on the bench opposite,
thoughtfully sipped his wine Finally she spoke "Wliy did you turn
off the engines3"

"There is no point traveling at random Since we have no des-
tination we might as well remain here,"

284 1 HF DEMON PRINCF S

She shrugged, scowled. "Keep the money; take me to Earth. I
have no wish to hang foolishly out here in space."

Gersen shook his head. "I rescinded your fee at great risk to
myself—primarily to learn the whereabouts of Thamber. Second-
arily, I find you attractive as a woman. I agree with Kokor Hekkus
you are worth ten billion SVU "

Alusz Iphigenia said angrily, "You do not believe me' It is a
fact: I could not return to Thamber if it were the dearest wish of
mv life'"

"How did you leave2"

"Sion Trumble captured a small spaceboat in a raid on Omad
Island, which is Kokor Hekkus' spaceport. I read the Operator's
Manual, and it seemed simple enough. When Kokor Hekkus
threatened war on Gentilly unless my father gave me to him, I had
two choices. I could kill myself or I could leave Thamber. I left. In
the ship there was a Handbook of the Planets. It mentioned Sasam
and described Interchange as the only locality m the human uni-
verse safe from criminals."

She turned a scathing glance toward Gersen. "This is inaccu-
rate. Interchange apparently is fair game for counterfeiters."

Gersen acknowledged the fact with a grin and by refilling his
wine glass. He hesitated before drinking it the bottle had been left
alone in the cabin while he showered- not inconceivably the woman
had poisoned it. He put the glass aside. "And who is Sion Trum-
ble?"

"The Prince of Vadrus, on the western border of Misk. We
were to have been betrothed.. . . He is a brave warrior, and has
done many noteworthy deeds."

"I see." Gersen ruminated. "Don't you know the way you came,
from Thamber to Sasam2"

"I set the astrogation dials for Sasam, and left Thamber behind.
I know only this and no more. Kokor Hekkus is the only man of
Thamber to own a spaceship."

"What is the name of your sun3"

"Just'Sun.'"

"Is it somewhat orange7"

"Yes. How did you know2"

"Deduction. WTiat does the night sky look like2 Are there any
unusual objects in the sky2 Any nearby double or triple stars2"

"No. Nothing unusual."

THE KILLING MACHINE 285

"Have there been any recent novae nearby?"

"What are 'novae'?"

"Stars suddenly exploding to give off great amounts of light."

"No, nothing like that."

"What of the Milky Way? Do you see it as a band around the
sky, as a cloud, or how2"

"A ribbon of light streams across the night sky during winter:

is that what you mean2"

"Yes. Apparently you're out toward the fringes."

"That may be." Alusz Iphigenia was unenthusiastic.

"W^hat about tradition2" asked Gersen. "Are there old tales of
Earth, or any of the other worlds2"

"Nothing very definite. ... A few legends, a few old songs." She
regarded him with an expression that seemed faintly derisive. "How
is it that your Star Directory and your Handbook to the Planets can't
tell you what you want to know?"

"Thamber is a lost world. Whoever ruled Thamber in the an-
cient days kept the secret well. There's no information now—ex-
cept a nursery rhyme:

Set a course from the old Dog Star
A point to the north of Achernar;

Sleight your ship to the verge extreme
And dead ahead shines Thamber's gleam."

Alusz Iphigenia smiled faintly. "I know that too: all of it."
"'AlP? There's more?"
"Indeed. You've left out the middle. It goes:

Set a course from the old Dog Star
A point to the north of Achernar;

Fare until, on the starboard beam,

Six red suns toward a blue sun stream.

Sleight your ship to where afar

A cluster hangs like a scimitar.

Under the hilt to the verge extreme

And dead ahead shines Thamber's gleam."

"Well, well," said Gersen. He rose to his feet, )umped up to the
control deck, set dials, threw power back into the Jarnell System.

THE DEMON PRINCF.S

286

"Where are we going?" asked Alusz Iphigenia.

"Sinus—the Dog Star."

"You take the rhyme seriously?"

"I've heard no other directions; I've got to take it seriously or
do nothing whatever."

"Hmm." Alusz Iphigenia sipped the wine. "In that case, since
I've told you all I know, you will put me down at Sinus or perhaps
Earth?"

"No."

"But—I know no more than I've told you!"

"You know the look of Thamber's constellations. Your rhyme,
if it ever gave accurate directions, is a thousand years old or more.
Sinus and Achernar have both shifted. We might arrive somewhere
near Thamber—hopefully within ten or twenty light years. Then
we'd have to use the old trick of lost star-travelers: they scan the
sky until in some quarter they find a familiar constellation. There
will only be one, and this in miniature, for it will be directly behind
their home planet. All other constellations will be distorted; and
even this constellation will have intervening stars superimposed
upon it: notably the home sun. Nevertheless—there is always the
one familiar constellation to search for, and if you find it, you head
for it, and presently, when it grows to its familiar size, your home
world is close at hand."

"What if you can't find a familiar constellation?"

"You can still find your way home. You must fly up or down,
normal to the plane of the galaxy, until you can see the whole
spread of it, and then there are landmarks to be found. This re-
quires much time, much energy, much wear and strain upon the
Jarnell. If anything goes wrong—then you are lost indeed, for there
is nothing more to do and you float in space looking down on the
home galaxy spreading below like a carpet until your energy fails
and then you die." Gersen shrugged. "I have never been lost." He
raised his glass of wine, eyed it warily, then went to the galley and
brought out a new bottle. "Tell me of Thamber."

Alusz Iphigenia spoke for two hours while Gersen leaned back on
the settee sipping wine. It was a pleasant experience, watching and
listening; for a period the realities of his existence were far away.
. . . Alusz Iphigenia mentioned Aglabat, the city behind a wall of
dark brown stone, and Gersen roused himself. Enervation was a

THE KILLING MACHINE

287

danger. His stay at Interchange had done him no good. He had
become pliable, easily distracted. . . . Nevertheless he relaxed again,
sipping wine, listening to Alusz Iphigenia. . . .

Thamber was a wonderful world. No one knew when the first
man had arrived; the time was lost in the past. There were various
continents, subcontinents, peninsulas, and a great archipelago of
tropical islands. Alusz Iphigenia was native to Uraszane in Gentilly,
a principality on the western shore of the smallest continent. To
the east was Vadrus, ruled by Sion Trumble, and beyond the Land
of Misk. The remainder of the continent, except for a number of
feuding states on the east coast, was wilderness inhabited by bar-
barians. Similar conditions prevailed on the other continents. Alusz
Iphigenia mentioned a score of peoples, each of distinctive char-
acter. Certain of these produced great music and pageants of heart-
stopping grandeur; others were fetishists and murderers ruled by
ogres. In the mountains lived bandit chieftains and arrogant lord-
lings, each secure in his castle. Everywhere were wizards and war-
locks, capable of the most astounding feats, and one weird area to
the north of the largest continent was ruled by fiends and demons.
The native flora and fauna were complex, rich and beautiful, and
sometimes dangerous; there were sea-monsters, scaled wolves of the
tundra, the horrid dnazd of the mountains to the north of Misk.

Technology and the ways of modern living were unknown on
Thamber. Even the Brown Bersaglers of Kokor Hekkus carried
only voulgues and daggers, while the knights of Misk were armed
with swords and crossbows. Between Misk and Vadrus there was
intermittent strife, with Gentilly usually allied with Vadrus. Sion
Trumble was a man of heroic valor, but he never had been able to
overcome the Brown Bersaglers. In a tremendous battle, he had
repelled the barbarians of the Skar Sakau, who had thereupon
turned their full fury to the south, upon the Land of Misk, where
they had been raiding villages, destroying outposts, and spreading
devastation.

Gersen listened with wonder. The romantic legends regarding
Thamber had not been exaggerated; if anything they were under-
stated. He said as much to Alusz Iphigenia, who shrugged. "Tham-
ber is a world of romantic deeds, certainly. The castles have great
halls where the bards sing and pavilions where maidens dance to
the music of lutes, but below are dungeons and torture chambers.
The knights are a magnificent sight in their armor and their flags,

THE UK.MON PRINCES

288

and then in the snows of Skava Steppe their legs are hacked off by
the Skodolak nomads, and they lie helpless until the wolves tear
them to pieces. The witches brew philters and the wizards send up
the smoke of dreams, and also infect their enemies with blights. . . .
Two hundred years ago the great heroes lived. Tyier Trumble con-
quered Vadrus and built the city Carrai where Sion Trumble now
rules. Jadask Dousko found Misk a land of herdsmen and Aglabat
a fishing village. In ten years he had created the first Brown Corps,
and there has been war ever since." She sighed. "In Draszane life
is relatively calm; we have four ancient colleges, hundreds of bib-
liotheques. Gentilly is a peaceful old country, but Misk and Vadrus
somehow are different. Sion Trumble wants me for his queen—but
would there ever be peace and happiness? Or would he always be
fighting Skodolaks or the Tadousko-Oi or the Sea-Helms? And
always Kokor Hekkus, who now will be implacable. . . ."

Gersen was silent.

Alusz Iphigenia went on. "At Interchange I read books—of
Earth and the Concourse and Aloysius. I know how you live. And
at first I wondered why Kokor Hekkus stayed so long at Aglabat,
why he fought with swords when he could fit out the Brown Ber-
saglers with energy weapons. But there is no mystery'. He needs
emotion as other men need food. He craves excitement and horror
and hate and lust. He finds it in the Land of Misk. But someday
he will dare too much and Sion Trumble will kill him." She laughed
sadly. "Or someday Sion Trumble will attempt a particularly lu-
dicrous act of valor and Kokor Hekkus will kill him—which will be
a pity."

"Hmmf," said Gersen. "You are fond of this Sion Trumble?"

"Yes. He is kind and generous and brave. He would not think
to rob even Interchange."

Gersen grinned sourly. "I'm more the Kokor Hekkus type. . . .
What of the rest of the planet?"

"Everywhere it is different. In Birzul, the Godmus keeps a
harem often thousand concubines. Every day he enlists ten maidens
and discharges ten, or if he happens to he in a bad humor drowns
them. In Calastang, the Divine Eye rides through the city carried
on a vermilion altar forty yards long and forty yards high. The
Lathcar Gentry keep racing-men—slave runners especially bred
and trained for the Lath Race Meets. The Tadousko-Oi build their
villages on the highest crags and steepest cliffs, and throw down

THE KILLING M4CHINE

289

the crippled and infirm. They are Thamber's fiercest warriors, the
Tadousko-Oi, and they have leagued themselves to raze the walls
of Aglabat. And they will succeed, because the Brown Bersaglers
cannot withstand them."

"Have you ever seen Kokor Hekkus close at hand?"

"Yes."

"What does he look like?"

"Give me paper and pen; I will show you."

Gersen brought her writing materials. She made tentative
marks, then worked more swiftly. Line Joined line, areas became
defined: a face looked forth from the paper. It was an intelligent
alert face; under a tall square forehead the eyes were wide and
inquiring. The hair was rich, dark, lustrous; the nose was short and
straight, the mouth rather small. Alusz Iphigenia sketched in the
torso, the legs, to depict a man somewhat over average height, with
broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs. The body might well
have been that of both Billy Windle and Seuman Otwal; the face
in no way resembled the keen jutting countenance of Seuman
Otwal, and Gersen had never distinctly seen Billy Windle.

Alusz Iphigenia watched him as he studied the picture, and gave
a shudder. "I can't understand cruelty—killing—hate. You are al-
most as frightening as Kokor Hekkus."

Gersen put the sketch aside. "When 1 was small, my home was
destroyed, and all my kin—except for my grandfather. Even then I
knew the course of my life was arranged. I knew that I w^uld one
by one kill the five men who had conducted the raid. This has been
my life, I have no other. I am not evil; I am beyond good and evil—
like the killing machine Kokor Hekkus built."

"And I am unlucky enough to be useful to you," said Alusz
Iphigenia.

Gersen grinned. "You probably will prefer being useful to me
than to Kokor Hekkus, since all I ask is that you guide me to Tham-
ber."

"You are gallant," said Alusz Iphigenia, and Gersen could not
decide whether her remark carried a barb or not.

Sirius burnt white ahead, with off to the side the yellow-white star
that had nurtured the human race. Alusz Iphigenia contemplated it
wistfully, turned to Gersen as if to plead with him, then thought
better of it and held her tongue.

290 Till DFMON PRINCES

Gersen pointed to Achernar, at the source of the River Rn-
danus "A point 11 '/4° north is the plane ot galactic north containing
the Sinus-Achernar line But the rhyme must be a thousand years
old, perhaps longer—so first we take ourselves to the position of
Sinus a thousand years ago Not too difficult Then we calculate
Achernar's apparent position of a thousand years ago—again not
too difficult Using these two new points, then we angle north 111/4°
and hope for the best And since I've already made the computa-
tions    " lie carefully ad)usted the verniers, Sinus swung grandly
away to the side

Presently the Jarnell snapped out, the Starskip drifted in un-
fractured ether Gersen turned the bow toward the point Achernar
had occupied a thousand years before, then swung up 1VA° in a
plane parallel to the north-south galactic axis "Here goes " He
engaged the mterspht, the Starskip and its contents, deprived of
inertia and Einstemian constrictions, slid with near-mstantaneity
along the generated fracture "Now we must watch for six red stars
They may or may not he streaming toward a blue star, they may
or may not be on the starboard beam, unless the rhyme intends
that the dorsal-ventral plane of the ship lie parallel to the north-
south galactic axis    "

Time went by Near stars slid across stars more distant, which in
turn slid across the even farther specks of light behind.

Gersen became edgy He expressed doubt that Alus/ Iphigema
had remembered the rhyme correctly She replied with a shrug in-
dicating small concern one way or the other, and presently offered
the con)ecture that Gersen had made a mistake in his computations

"How long was your trip to Interchange^" He had asked her
this before, but always she had given him a vague answer, as now
she did again "I slept a great deal 'lime seemed to go swiftly "

Gersen began to suspect that the rhyme had taken them on a
wild goose chase, that 1 hamber lay in a different quarter of the
galaxy, and that Alus/ Iphigema knew this fact \ery well.

Alusz Iphigema was aware of his dubiousness, and it was with
a note of vindication that she pointed ahead to six beautihil red
giants strung out in a down-curving line toward a great blue star.

Gersen's only comment was a grudging, "Well, they seem to
be on our starboard beam, so rhyme and calculations both aren't

THE KILLING MACHINE

291

too far off." He disengaged the Jarnell; the Starskip drifted. "Now
a cluster shaped like a scimitar, probably a naked-eye ob)ect."

"There." Alusz Iphigema pointed. "Thamber is nearby."

"How do you know^"

"The cluster like the scimitar. In Gentilly we call it the God-
Boat. Though from here it looks different."

Gersen turned the ship toward the "hilt"; once again he cut in
the mterspht; the boat slipped forward. Directly through the cluster
they flew, with stars all around, and then came out into a region
only sparsely populated. "It's a fact," said Gersen, "We're at the
edge of the galaxy: the 'verge extreme.' Somewhere, dead ahead,
should be chamber's gleam.' "

Dead ahead lay a sparse scatter of stars,

"The sun is G8—orange," said Gersen. "Which is the orange
sun3 . .. There. That one."

The orange star appeared something to the side and below.
Gersen cut off the mterspht. He ad)usted the macroscope, which
revealed a single planet. He raised the magnification, continents and
seas swam into focus. "Thamber," said Alusz Iphigenia Eper)e-
Tokay.

10

There is a human quality that cannot be precisely named:

possibly the most nohle of all human qualities. It includes
but is larger than candor, generosity, comprehension, nice-
ness of distinction, intensity, steadiness of purpose, total
commitment. It is participation in all human perceptions,
recollection of all human history. It is characteristic of every
great creative genius and can never be learned: learning in
this regard is bathos—the dissection of a butterfly, a spec-
troscope turned to the sunset, the psychoanalysis of a laugh-
ing girl. The attempt to learn is self-destructive; when
erudition comes in, poetry departs. How common the man
of intellect who cannot feel! How trifling are his judgments
against those of the peasant who derives his strength, like
Antaeus, from the emotional sediment of the race! Essen-
tially the tastes and preferences of the intellectual elite, de-
rived from learning, are false, doctrinaire, artificial, shrill,
shallow, uncertain, eclectic, jejune, and insincere.

. . . Life, Volume IV, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey

The critics discuss Baron Bodissey's Life:

A monumental work if you like monuments. . . . One is
irresistibly put in mind of the Laocoon group, with the
good baron contorted against the coils of common sense,
and the more earnest of his readers likewise endeavoring to
disengage themselves.

. . . Panct'etic Review, St. Stephen, Boniface

THE KILLING MACHINE 293

Ponderously the great machine ingests its bales of lore;

grinding, groaning, shuddering, it brings forth its product:

small puffs of acrid vari-colored vapor.

. . . Excahbur, Patris, Krokinole

Six volumes of rhodomontade and piffle.

. . . Academia, London, Earth

Egregious, ranting, boorish, unacceptable—

. . . The Rigellian, Avente, Alphanor

Sneers jealously at the careers of better men. ... Im-
possible not to feel honest anger.

. . . Galactic Quarterly, Baltimore, Earth

Tempting to picture Baron Bodissey at work in the Ar-
cadian habitat he promulgates, surrounded by admiring
goatherds.

. . . El Orchide, Serle, Quantique

It was morning over the continent Despaz. Alusz Iphigenia
pointed out the geographical divisions. "To the south, the long strip
under the Skar Sakau Mountains, along the seacoast—that is the
Land of Mtsk. Aglabat is hard to see; it is brown and merges with
the landscape, but it is there, where the coast curves inland." She
pointed.

"And where is your home?"

"To the west. First is Vadrus over that arm of mountains. You
can see the city Carrai: a patch of white and gray. Then there are
more mountains and Gentilly lies beyond. There, where the sun-
light is just touching—Gendlly." She turned away from the macro-
scope. "But naturally you will never go there. Nor to Carrai."

"Why not?"

"Because neither my father nor Sion Trumble would allow me
to be your slave."

Without comment, Gersen bent over the macroscope, studied
the landscape for the better part of an hour, while the planet rolled
over into the sunlight.

"A number of things are clear," he said at last, "and a number
of things aren't so clear. For instance, how I can approach Kokor

294 THE DEMON PRINCES

Hekkus without being killed? He undoubtedly has radar and quite
possibly sky-bolts to protect his city. We must land somewhere
beyond the range of detection devices, and the most convenient
spot seems to be beyond those mountains."

"And after you land—what then?"

"In order to kill Kokor Hekkus, first I find him. To find him,
I'll have to look for him."

"What of me?" complained Alusz Iphigenia woefully. "I left
Thamber to escape Kokor Hekkus; now you bring me back. After
you are killed, which is certain, what then? Must I return to Inter-
change?"

"It seems that our interests coincide," said Gersen. "We both
want Kokor Hekkus dead. Neither wants him aware of our presence
on Thamber. We will stay together."

He turned the Starskip down toward Thamber, standing well
to the north of the mountains called the Skar Sakau. After careful
inspection of the terrain, he found an isolated col under a great
peak and there he landed. To right and left stood other wind-lashed
peaks, laced with glaciers; below and to the south spread a jumble
of ridges, chasms, precipices: as wild a region as any Gersen had
known, W^hile waiting for air pressure to equalize, he lowered the
little air-car from its pod, armed himself with his various weapons,
wrapped himself in a cape, as did Alusz Iphigenia. He opened the
port, Jumped down upon the soil of Thamber. The sun was bright;

the air was cold; the wind mercifully was still. Alusz Iphigenia joined
him, to stand looking around with an air of repressed exhilaration,
as if in spite of her fears she was happy to be home. She turned to
Gersen and spoke impulsively. "You're not an evil man, in spite of
what you say about yourself. You've treated me kindly—more
kindly that I could have expected. Why not give over this fantastic
scheme of yours? Kokor Hekkus is secure behind the walls ofAgla-
bat, not even Sion Trumble can threaten him. What can you do?
To kill him you must bring him forth, you must defeat all his cruel
ruses. And never forget that in all the universe he most wishes to
meet you."

"I'm aware of this," said Gersen.

"And you still persist? You must be a lunatic or a sorcerer."

"No."'

"Then you have made plans?"

"How can I make plans when I have no facts? That's what we're

THE KILLIXG MACHINE 295

going out for now. See this box?" He nudged a black metal case
with his toe. "I can sit at a distance of ten miles and send a spy-
cell into Aglabat, to learn whatever I need to know."

Alusz Iphigenia had no rebuttal to make. Gersen appraised the
Starskip, the surrounding mountains; surely no wandering barbar-
ians would come so high or so far. Divining his thoughts, Alusz
Iphigenia said, "They keep to the south of the Skar, where their
flocks find sustenance, where the granaries ofMisk are near at hand-
If we fly south, we will see their villages. They are the most fero-
cious fighters alive, using only daggers and bare hands."

Gersen packed the black case aboard the air-boat, which, unlike
the flying platform carried by his old Model 9B, was equipped with
a transparent dome and comfortable seats. Alusz Iphigenia stepped
aboard, Gersen joined her, closed down the dome. The boat rose,
skidded off down the col, then south through the soaring juts and
crags. Never had Gersen seen such awesome scenery. Cliffs rose
sheer from crevasse-like valleys in which wound a dim metal tendril
of a river, visible only because the orange sun hung at noon. Chasm
opened into chasm; winds roaring through collided and buffeted
the air-car. Occasionally a waterfall plunged from the lip of a crag,
to fray and wave like a wisp of white silk.

Crag after crag, ridge after ridge slipped behind, and the lay of
the valleys was to the south. Far below, forests and meadows could
be seen, and presently Alusz Iphigenia pointed to what seemed a
complicated crumble of rock pasted to an almost sheer crag. "A
village of the Tadousko-Oi. They'll think us a magic bird."

"So long as they don't shoot us down."

"They use only boulders to roll upon their enemies and bows
and catapults for their hunting." Gersen nevertheless gave the vil-
lage a wide berth, swinging across toward the opposite cliff wall,
the surface of which seemed curiously humped and pocked. Only
when within a hundred yards did he realize he was approaching
another village, clinging with incredible precariousness to the bar-
ren rock. He glimpsed a few dark figures; on a roof a man aimed
a weapon. Gersen cursed, swerved; but a short sharp metal dart spat
through the fore-part of the air-boat, which gave a jerk, a lurch,
then sagged.

Alusz Iphigenia cried out, Gersen hissed between his teeth. Not
two hours on Thamber and already faced with disaster! "The front

296 I HP DFMON PRINCES

lift-vanes are gone," he said, trying to speak calmly. "We're in no
danger, don't be frightened We'll return to the ship."

But this was obviously impossible the air-boat hung at an
alarming angle, suspended on the center and rear vanes alone

"We'll have to land," said Gersen "1 may be able to repair the
damage... I thought you said these people had no weapons."

"It must have been a cross-bow captured from Kokor Hekkus.
I can think of no other explanation. . . . I'm truly sorry."

"It's no fault of yours." Gersen gave his full attention to the
plunging air-boat, trying to hold it on a manageable slant as they
settled into the valley. At the last instant, he cut off the rear )ets,
pushed the propulsion hard over, and for an instant held the craft
on an even keel, and so they came down easily on a gravel terrace
fifty feet above the river.

Gersen stiffly alighted, went to inspect the damage. His heart
sank.

"How bad is it^" asked Alusz Iphigema anxiously.

"Very bad. I might be able to get us back to the ship, by sliding
the center vane forward, or something similar. . . . Well, to work."
He brought out such tools as the standard equipment afforded, and
set to work. An hour passed. Noon sunlight left the valley, blue
shadows collected, with them came a dank chill smelling of snow
and wet stone. Alusz Iphigema tugged at Gersen's arm. "Quick'
Hide! The Tadousko-Oi."

Startled, Gersen let himself be dragged into a cleft among the
rocks. A moment later he saw one of the strangest sights of his
lifetime. Down the valley came twenty or thirty large centipedes,
each mounted by five men. The centipedes, Gersen noted, were
similar to the fort built by Patch Construction, but much smaller.
They ran smoothly over the stones, almost flowing. The riders were
an ill-favored lot—massively muscled men whose maroon skins
were burnished like old leather. Their eyes were stony and staring,
their mouths harsh, their noses heavy and hooked They wore
clumsy garments of black leather, helmets of crude iron and black
leather; each carried a lance, an ax, and a heavy dagger.

At the sight of the disabled air-car, the band drew up in sur-
prise. "At least they weren't sent out to pick us up," whispered
Gersen.

Alusz Iphigema said nothing They were pressed close together

THE KILLING MACHINE 297

m the cleft: even in the extremity of the circumstances he felt a
tingling at the contact.

The Tadousko-Oi had surrounded the air-car. A number
alighted, and conversed in a harsh mumble. They began to look up
and down the valley. It was only a matter of seconds before one of
them would investigate the cleft.

Gersen whispered to Alusz Iphigema, "Stay here. I'll distract
them." He stepped forward, stood with thumbs hooked in his
weapon harness. For a moment the warriors stood staring, then one
who wore a helmet more complicated than the others came slowly
forward. He spoke: harsh grumbling words apparently derived from
the ancient universal tongue, but incomprehensible to Gersen. The
slate-colored eyes of the chief—this seemed to be his rank—flicked
past Gersen in new surprise. Alusz Iphigenia had come forward.
She spoke in a rough approximation of the Tadousko-Oi language;

the chief replied. The remaining warriors sat motionless, Gersen
had never seen a tableau more sinister.

Alusz Iphigenia spoke to Gersen. "I have told him that we are
enemies of Kokor Hekkus, that we come from a far world to kill
him. The hetman says that they are embarked on a raid, that they
are to join with other bands, and that they plan to attack Aglabat."

Gersen appraised the hetman once more. "Ask him if he can
provide transportation back to our ship. I'll pay him well."

Alusz Iphigenia spoke; the hetman gave a grunt of grim humor.
He spoke; Alusz Iphigenia translated.

"He refuses. All the company are intent m this great raid. He
says that if we like we can (om the raiding party. I told him that
you preferred to repair the air-boat."

The hetman spoke: Gersen caught the word "dnazd" used sev-
eral times. Alusz Iphigema turned—after a curious hesitation—to
Gersen. "He says that we can't survive the night here, that the
dnazd will kill us."

"What is the'dnazd'?"

"A great beast. This place is called the Valley of the Dnazd."

The hetman spoke again in his dull grumbling voice, Gersen's
ear, accustomed to extracting meaning from the thousand and one
dialects and variants of the universal tongue, began to penetrate the
hoarseness and glottal overtones. The hetman, for all the ominous
sound to his voice, did not seem hostile. Gersen gathered that it
was below the dignity of a war party such as this to prey upon

298 1HF DEMON PRINCES

helpless wanderers. "You say you are enemies of Kokor Hekkus,"
seemed to be the essence of his words "In that case the man will
be anxious to )om the war party—if, that is to say, he is a fighting
man, as he may be in spite of his unhealthy pallor."

Alusz Iphigenia translated. "lie says that this is a war party.
Your pale skin gives him the impression that you are sick. He says
that if we wish to come, it will be in a menial capacity. There will
be much work and much danger "

"Hmm. Is that what he says3"

"Words to that effect."

It was apparent that Alus? Iphigenia had no wish to join the
war party. Gersen said, "Ask the hetman if there is any means by
which we can return to the ship."

Alusz Iphigenia asked the question; the hetman seemed sardon-
ically amused. "If you can escape the dnazd, if you can find your
way over two hundred miles of mountains without food and shel-


ter.

Alusz Iphigenia translated in a hollow voice. "He says he can't
help us: we can try if we like." She looked at the air-boat. "Can we
repair this3"

"I don't think so Not unless I find tools. We had better go
with these people—at least until something better offers."

Alusz Iphigenia reluctantly translated Gersen's words. The
chieftain gave an uninterested assent; he motioned, one of the
mounts that carried only four warriors approached, Gersen climbed
up on the pad that served as saddle, pulled Alusz Iphigenia up into
his lap. This was the closest contact he had ever made with her, it
seemed amazing that he had restrained himself so long. She seemed
to be thinking similar thoughts, and gave him a pensive look. For
a space she held herself as rigid as possible, then gradually relaxed.

The centipedes ran smooth as oil down the valley moved the
war party along an almost invisible trail that led up and down, over
boulders, through gaps, cracks, and crevices. Occasionally when the
valley walls closed tight together, with the Thamber sky a strip of
dark blue ribbon and the water a rushing black syrup, the procession
ascended the clifts. The warriors kept utter silence, the centipede-
mounts made no sound, there was nothing to be heard but sigh of
wind and sound of water. Gersen became ever more conscious of
the warm body leaning against him. He reminded himself wistfully
that indulgences of this sort were not for him, that his life was

THE A/LL/VC, MACHINE 299

predestined to grief and doom—but his cells and nerves and in-
stincts protested, and his arms tightened around Alusz Iphigenia.
She looked around; he saw that her face was abstracted, melancholy,
that her eyes were bright with something like tears. WTly in the
world is she melancholy^ Gersen wondered. The circumstances
were unfortunate, vexatious, but still short of desperate; if anything
the Tadousko-Oi had treated them with courtesy. . . A halt inter-
rupted his thoughts. The hetman was consulting a group of lieu-
tenants; their attention was fixed high above, upon a crag where
Gersen made out another of the dull crumbles he now knew for a
village.

Alusz Iphigenia shifted in his arms. "This is an enemy village,"
she told him. "The Tadousko-Oi feud among themselves."

The hetman gave a signal, three scouts dismounted, ran ahead,
testing the path. A hundred yards ahead, they croaked out in gut-
tural alarm, sprang back, as a slab of rock crashed across the trail.

The warriors stirred no muscle. The scouts continued along
the trail, disappeared. Half an hour later they returned.

The hetman signaled. One after another the mounts surged
forward. From far above, objects like gray peas appeared, falling
with odd slowness, almost floating. But size and speed were illusory;

the objects were boulders that smashed to splinters along the trail.
The warriors, showing no concern, avoided the fall by speeding,
slowing, darting ahead, halting. WTien Gersen and Alusz Iphigenia
were carried past, the fall of boulders had halted.

Beyond the village the valley broadened to a crescent-shaped
meadow with a feathery forest along the river. Mere, the lead mount
stopped short, and for the first time a grumble of words passed
down the line: "Dnazd."

But the dnazd was not in evidence. The party, crouching low
on their mounts, timorously continued across the meadow.

The day had gone dark. High above, a few wisps of cirrus
burned bronze in the dying sunlight. The party presently entered
a cleft in the rocks—hardly more than a crevice—along which the
mounts could squeeze only by folding their legs back At times
Gersen might have touched the walls to either side. The crack wid-
ened, became a circular area floored with sand. All alighted; the
mounts were taken to the side, shackled together. Certain warriors
dipped leather buckets in a nearby pool, fed the mounts buckets of
water and what looked to be powdered blood. Others made small

THE DEMON PRINCES

300

fires, hung pots on tripods, and began to boil up a rank-smelling
stew.

The hetinan and his lieutenants sat together, conferring in un-
dertones. The hetman glanced toward Gersen and Alusz Iphigenia,
made a movement; two of the warriors set up a kind of tent of black
cloth. Alusz Iphigenia exhaled a soft sigh, turned her eyes to the
ground.

The stew was cooked; each warrior took an iron bowl from
inside his helmet, dipped it into the pot, careless to steam and boil-
ing stew. Having no bowls, Gersen and Alusz Iphigenia sat pa-
tiently, while the warriors ate with fingers and slabs of hard bread.
The first to finish polished his bowl with sand, brought it politely
to Gersen, who accepted with thanks, dipped into the stew, brought
the bowl to Alusz Iphigenia, an act which evoked an amused rumble
of comment. Another bowl was forthcoming and now Gersen ate.
The stew was not unpleasant, though salty and seasoned with an
odd peppery spice; the bread was hard, and tasted like burning
weeds. The warriors squatted around the fires without laughing or
horseplay.

The hetman rose, went to the tent. Gersen looked about for a
place for himself and Alusz Iphigenia. It would be a chilly night,
for they had only their cloaks. The Tadousko-Oi, who had even
less, evidently planned to lay themselves down before the fire. . . .
The warriors were looking at Alusz Iphigenia in a puzzled manner.
Gersen looked at her also. She sat staring into the fire, arms
wrapped around knees: nothing to excite perplexity. In the opening
to the tent the hetman appeared, frowning impatiently. He beck-
oned to Alusz Iphigenia.

Gersen slowly rose to his feet. Alusz Iphigenia, without lifting
her eyes from the fire, said in a soft voice: "To the Tadousko-Oi,
women are a lower species. . -. They keep their women in common,
and the highest ranking warrior sleeps with what is available—
first."

Gersen looked toward the hetman. "Explain that this is not our
custom."

Alusz Iphigenia looked slowly up at him. "We can do nothing;

we are—"

"Tell him."

Alusz Iphigenia turned to the hetman, spoke Gersen's words.
The warriors sitting around the fire became still. The hetman

THE KILLING MACHINE 301

seemed startled, and came two paces forward. He spoke: "In your
own land, you are obliged to observe your own customs; but this is
the Skar Sakau, and here our ways must hold. Is this pale man the
highest ranking warrior present? No, of course not. Therefore, you,
the pale woman must come to my tent. This is the way of the Skar
Sakau."

Gersen did not wait for the translation. "Tell him that I am an
extremely high-ranked warrior in my own land; that if you sleep
with anyone it shall be with me."

To this the hetman responded, not discourteously. "Again, this
is the Skar Sakau. I am the hetman, no man can resist me; it is
beyond dispute that I outrank the pale man. So come, woman, let
there be an end to this undignified parley."

Gersen said, "Tell him that I am more highly ranked—that I
am a Space-Admiral, a Ruler, a Lord—anything that he will un-
derstand."

She shook her head, rose to her feet. "I had best obey."

"Tell him."

"You will be killed," said Alusz Iphigenia.

"Tell him."

Alusz Iphigenia spoke. The chieftain came another two steps
forward, pointed to a burly young warrior. "Outrank this man,
trounce him thoroughly to emphasize his lowly condition."

The warrior doffed his upper harness. The hetman spoke, "The
pale man carries coward's weapons. Let him know that he must
fight as a man, either with dagger or his hands. He must remove
his fire-flashers."

Gersen's hand trembled toward his projac. But warriors nearby
would instantly have overpowered him. Slowly he handed his weap-
ons to Alusz Iphigenia, removed his jacket and singlet. His oppo-
nent carried a heavy double-edged dagger; Gersen thereupon
brought forth his own slim-bladed weapon.

An area of sand between three fires was cleared; warriors of the
Tadousko-Oi squatted about in a circle, liver-colored faces grave,
dispassionate, almost insect-like.

Gersen stepped forward, assessed his opponent. He was taller
than himself, with hard muscles and quick motions. He twitched
the heavy dagger as if it were a feather. Gersen held his blade
loosely. The young warrior moved his dagger in a hypnotic circle,
steel glimmering in the firelight.

THE DEMON PRINCES

302

Gersen made a sudden hard motion. His blade flashed through
the air, cut through the warrior's wrist, pinned it to his shoulder.
The dagger fell from limp fingers; he stared in numb wonder at his
helpless hand. Gersen stepped close, picked up the dropped
weapon, ducked a kick, struck the warrior over the ear with the flat
of the blade. The warrior tottered; Gersen struck him again; the
man fell to the ground in a daze.

Gersen recovered his dagger, politely placed the young war-
rior's weapon into its scabbard, returned to Alusz Iphigenia, and
began to dress himself in the clothes he had removed.

For the first time there was a murmur among the spectators:

neither applause, nor disapproval: merely a mild wonder, with a
hint of dissatisfaction.

All looked to the hetman, who now marched forward. He spoke
in a loud voice, in a careful sing-song rhythm: "Pale man, you have
defeated this young warrior. I cannot fault the unconventional
method employed, though we of the Tadousko-Oi hold it the way
of a weakling to stake all on a single cast. Moreover, nothing has
been proved, other than the fact that you outrank the young war-
rior. You must fight again." He searched among the faces, but Ger-
sen spoke. "Tell the hetman," he instructed Alusz Iphigenia, "that
my differences, in connection to where you shall spend the night,
are solely with him, and it is he with whom I choose to fight."

Alusz Iphigenia repeated the message in a low voice, and now
the audience sat stunned. The hetman was obviously surprised.
"Does he so choose? Does he not realize I am champion, the master
of all men I have so far faced? Explain to him that I am hetman,
that since he is not of the clan, such a fight must be to the death."

Alusz Iphigenia explained; Gersen said, "Inform the hetman
that I have no wish to prove my high rank; that I much prefer
sleeping to fighting, so long as he does not insist on your company."

Alusz Iphigenia spoke; the hetman removed his shirt. Then he
spoke. "We shall settle the question of rank quickly, for there may
not be two leaders to a war party. To avoid a coward's cast, we will
fight with bare hands."

Gersen appraised him: tall he stood, heavy but agile, with dark
flesh that seemed as hard as horn. He glanced down at Alusz Iph-
igenia who looked up at him fascinated, then slowly he stepped
forward. Beside the knotted dark body his own seemed pallid and
elastic. To test the hetman Gersen aimed an apparently random

THE KILLWG JVMCHINE 303

blow toward his head; instantly a hard hand seized his wrist, a foot
lashed out. Gersen disengaged his wrist with a jerk; he could have
seized the foot and flung the hetman over, but instead allowed the
toe barely to graze his hip. And he swung another left-handed blow
that landed, almost as if by accident, on the hetman's neck. It felt
like a tree trunk.

The hetman hopped forward, both feet at a time, in a peculiarly
disconcerting manner, both arms wide. Gersen punched at the out-
thrust face. He struck the left eye, but was caught up m an arm
lock, of a sort he had never experienced before, which in seconds
would snap his ulna. Gersen relaxed his knees, then sprang around
in a kind of mad somersault, kicking the hetman in the face and
wrenching his arm free. The hetman was less confident when Ger-
sen faced him next. He slowly raised both arms; Gersen struck at
the left eye. Again the hetman's foot lashed out, Gersen refrained
from seizing the ankle; again it grazed his hip. The hetman's eye
was swollen. As he sprang back after the kick, Gersen took advan-
tage of an instant's respite to scrape a hollow into the sand with his
foot. The hetman circled him. Gersen moved away, feinted; his
wrist was seized; a great hand hacked at the back of his neck. Gersen
dived instantly forward, put his shoulder to the hetman's rock-hard
belly; the blow slid off his shoulder. Gersen thrust forward; the
hetman pulled up a knee battering Gersen's chest. Gersen caught
the knee, shifted his position, caught the ankle, twisted; the hetman
was forced to fall to protect his knee; Gersen kicked him in the
right eye, jumped away from the sweep of the massive red arm. He
stood panting and sobbing, his chest aching; but the hetman's right
eye was closing. Gersen bent, carefully enlarged the hollow in the
sand. Glaring like a boar, the hetman watched him, then, apparently
casting caution aside, he rushed forward: Gersen moved aside; on
occasion he had exercised the same feigned recklessness. He Jabbed
at the hetman's left eye, but a dazzling fast blow of the hetman's
left hand crushed his wrist, causing intense pain and leaving his left
hand limp. This was a serious loss, but the hetman's right eye was
shut and his left eye was swollen. Ignoring the pain, Gersen flapped
his now useless left hand into the red face; again the left hand swung
up to hack; but Gersen caught the left wrist in his right hand, kicked
behind the left knee, butted into the hetman's neck, and the hetman
let himself sag, still perfectly controlled and coordinated. Grunting,
hissing bet-ween his teeth, Gersen hacked into the momentarily ex-

304 THE UFMON PRINCES

posed neck; the hetman, purple in the face, slashed out back-
handed; Gersen, who now was beginning to lose his agility, caught
the blow on his right forearm. It was like the impact of a sledge-
hammer; left and right hands both were useless. The two men stood
back, both sweating and gasping. Both of the hetman's eyes were
almost shut; Gersen strove to conceal the futility of his hands; it
would be fatal to display weakness. Summoning his last resources
he crouched, began to stalk the hetman: his arms held as if ready
to strike. The hetman roared out, made his two-footed )ump; Ger-
sen lurched to meet him, drove his right elbow into the black con-
tusion of the hetman's neck. The hetman's arms surrounded
Gersen, he began banging the side of his head against Gersen's
temple. Gersen sagged low, butted at the hetman's chin, kicked at
his knees. Both toppled, the hetman trying to swing Gersen under.
Gersen acceded to the impulse, augmented it, landed on top,
clenched in the wet maroon arms. He butted at the chin, at the
nose; the hetman tried to counter with snapping teeth, heaving and
lurching to roll to the top, which Gersen prevented with outspread
legs. He butted, the teeth scarred his forehead. He butted at the
nose, it broke. He butted again, battered down at the chin, again
the teeth lacerated his forehead—but the hetman could take no
more. He loosened his grip that he might place a forearm under
Gersen's neck, but Gersen had been waiting. He Jerked himself
free, sat upon the hetman's abdomen, then with his last energy
brought his head down against the bridge of the hetman's nose.

The hetman choked, relaxed, dazed by pain, fatigue, the blows
to neck and head. Gersen staggered to his feet, arms dangling. He
looked down at the great maroon body. Never had he fought so
terrible an antagonist. Was the hetman dead? Lesser blows had
killed lesser men.

Gersen stumbled to where Alusz Iphigenia sat sobbing. In a
slurred voice he said, "Tell the warriors to care for their hetman.
He is a great fighter, and the enemy of my enemy."

Alusz Iphigenia spoke. P'rom the onlookers came a dismal rum-
ble. Several warriors went to look down at the unconscious hetman,
then glanced toward Gersen. He stood swaying. Fires flickered cra-
zily, faces were a nightmare blur. He gasped for air, and looking
high glimpsed a cluster of stars shaped like a scimitar. . ..

Alusz Iphigenia had risen to her feet. "Come," she said, and
led him to the tent. None barred their way.

11

From "Smell Your Best," by Rudi Thumm, article in
Cosmopo/is, January, 1521:

Here is an excerpt from the catalog ofAEMISTHES:

Perfumes, Redolences, Essences, Pamfile, Zaccare, Quantique.
Each category is further amplified in the body of the cata-
log, with the nature and quality of the constituents exactly,
even redolently, defined.

Section I: Odors for Personal Use.

Beguilements:

: For the sorcelment

of a strange

maiden
; To induce a new

gallant
; To announce a

triumph
: To stupefy a noisy

child

: To welcome a lover
: To hint at revulsion

At festivals:

. Promenades
: Revels

: Tarantellas

In Solitude:

At gatherings:

: Small societies

: Occasions of
dignified
circumstance

: While discussing
family secrets

: At the god-yell

—morning

—evening

—rogue

—unpremeditated

et cetera

306 THE DEMON PRINCES

Section II: Ceremonial

Private occasions:

: For the house

—various essences
: For the lich-way
: For the ancient tree
: At water tasting

—morning

—twilight

: At occasions of grief
: At occasions of

remorse
: To celebrate a

murder

Public occasions:

: To lave the feet of

the Zatcoon
: To cast upon an

imminent

battlefield
: To facilitate flight
: To scent the wind
: To welcome good

fortune

et cetera

What you should learn from the foregoing is plain:

when you visit Zaccare, don't wear perfume—you may find
yourself involved in circumstances you didn't bargain for.
The people of this fantastic and beautiful land are as sen-
sitive to odors as the Sirenese are to music, and an appar-
ently insignificant daub of scent affords an astonishing
amount of information. As can be seen, every occasion re-
quires its correct perfume, and a mistake will seem utterly
ludicrous to the folk of Zaccare. Unless advised by a local,
go scentless. Better neutrality than gaucherie!

Perfume manufacture is big business in Zaccare. At
Pamfile, a hundred firms have their headquarters. From all
over the Oikumene, oils, extracts, and essences are im-
ported, with as many more collected in the nearby Tala-
langi Forest.

Here are samples of Zaccare fragrances:

(scented tabs attached to page of magazine).

Before dawn the warriors stirred, blew the coals ablaze, set their

stew a-simmer. The hetman, his head a mass of bruises, sat with
his back to a rock, looking dourly across the area. No one spoke to
him, nor he to anyone. From the tent came Gersen, followed by
Alusz Iphigenia. She had bound his left wrist, massaged his right

THE KILLING MACHINE 307

arm; aside from a thousand bruises, aches, and the sprain ot his left
wrist, he was not in bad condition. He walked to where the hetman
sat, and essayed to speak in the harsh dialect of the Skar Sakau.
"You tought'well."

"You fought better," mumbled the hetman. "Never since boy-
hood have I been beaten. I called you a coward. I was wrong. You
did not kill me; by this token you become a clan-fellow, and het-
man. What are your orders?"

"Suppose I ordered the party to conduct us to our ship?"

"You would not be obeyed. The men would ride off. I was as
you are now—war leader. Beyond this I had only such authority as
I was willing to enforce. And no more have you."

"In that case," said Gersen, "we will consider the events of last
night no more than friendly exercise. You are hetman, we are your
guests. WTien it suits us we shall part company."

The hetman lurched to his feet. "If these are your wishes, so
be it. We proceed against our enemy Kokor Hekkus, Ruler of
Misk."

The party presently was ready to proceed. A scout went to re-
connoiter the valley, but returned hurriedly. "Dnazd!"

"Dnazd!" went the subdued rumble of voices.

An hour passed; the sky brightened. The scout went forth again,
returned to signal that all was clear. Out into the winding valley
moved the procession, and away.

At noon the valley widened and, as the war party rounded a
bend, the notch made by the rocky slopes revealed a far view over
a sunny green land.

Ten minutes later they came to a spot where sixty or seventy
other centipedes stood tethered with warriors squatting nearby.
The hetman rode forward, conferred with others of similar rank;

without delay the entire troop moved off down the valley. An hour
before sunset, they came down out of the foothills into a rolling
savannah. Here grazed herds of small black ruminants, tended by
men and boys riding taller animals of the same general type. At the
sight of the Tadousko-Oi they fled incontinently, then finding no
pursuit, halted to stare in wonder.

Gradually the land became more populated. First there were a
few huts, then round low-walled houses with tall conical roofs, then
villages; everywhere there was flight; none dared face the T a-
dousko-Oi.

308 IHF DFMON PRINCFS

At sunset the city Aglabat appeared, rising from a level green
plain Battlemented walls of brown stone surrounded the city, which
seemed a compact mass of tall round towers At the center, from
the tallest tower of all, flew a brown and black pennon

"Kokor Hekkus is m residence," said Aiusz Iphigenia "When
he is gone, no pennon flies "

Over green sward as neat and green as the turf of a park, the
warriors approached the city

Alusz Iphigenia was disturbed "Best that we part company with
the Tadousko-Oi before they invest the town "

"Why^" asked Gersen

"Do you think Kokor Hekkus is to be caught nappmg? At any
minute the Brown Bersaglers will sally forth. There will be a ter-
rible battle, we may well be killed, or worse, captured, without once
coming anywhere near Kokor Hekkus "

Gersen could not quarrel with her remarks, but by some pe-
culiar circumstance he had attached himself to the war band To
leave now—especially when he shared the views of Alusz Iphigenia
as to the probable destruction of the Tadousko-Oi—seemed like
treachery Still, he had not come to Thamber for chrvalric gestures

With the city two miles distant, the party halted Gersen ap-
proached the hetman "WTiat are your battle-plans^"

"We besiege the city Sooner or later Kokor Hekkus must send
forth his army Before, when this occurred, we were too few and
were forced to flee We still are few, but not too few We will
destroy the Brown Bersaglers, we will grind the knights into dust,
we will drag Kokor Hekkus across the plain to his death, then we
will possess ourselves of the riches of Aglabat "

The plan had the virtue of simplicity, thought Gersen "Sup-
pose the army does not come forth3"

"Sooner or later it must, unless they prefer to starve."

The sun went down into a purple sky lights shone from the
towers of Aglabat Tonight no one offered discourtesy to Alusz
Iphigenia, like the night before they occupied the black, tent

The sense of her nearness finally destroyed Gersen's self-
control, he took her by the shoulders, looked into the dimness of
her face, kissed her, and she seemed to respond But did she7 Her
expression could not be seen through the dark He kissed her again,
and felt moisture on her face: she was weeping Angrily he stood
back 'Why are you crying7"

7//7 hllli\G MACHIM 309

"Pent-up emotions, probably "

"Because I kissed you7"

"Of course"

Suddenly everything was unsatisfactory She was in his power,
sub)ect to his orders He did not want her submission, he wanted
her ardor "Suppose circumstances were different," he said "Sup-
pose we were in Draszane, suppose that you had no worries Sup-
pose I came to you—like this—and kissed you WTiat would you
do="

"I will never see Draszane again," she said sullenly "I have
many worries I am your slave. Do as you like "

Gersen sat down on the floor of the tent "Very well I will go
to sleep "

The following day the Fadousko-Oi moved closer to the city,
camping a mile in front of its main gate On the walls, soldiers
could be seen moving back and forth At noon the gates opened,
out marched six regiments of pike-men wearing brown uniforms
with black armor and black helmets. The Tadousko-Oi gave a
hoarse whoop, sprang to their mounts Gersen and Alusz Iphigenia
watched the battle from the camp It was savage and bloody, waged
without quarter. The Bersaglers fought bravely but without the wild
ferocity of the mountain men, presently the remnants retreated
through the gates, leaving a field strewn with dead

The following day was eventless The brown and black pennon
flew from the spire of the citadel Gersen asked Alusz Iphigenia,
"Where does Kokor Hekkus keep his spaceship^"

"On an island to the south He has an air-car like yours to fly
back and forth Until Sion Trumble attacked the island and cap-
tured the spaceship I thought Kokor Hekkus a great wizard "

Gersen was more dissatisfied than ever It was clear that under
no circumstances could he make contact with Kokor Hekkus
Should the Tadousko-Oi succeed in storming the city, Kokor Hek-
kus would escape m his air-car    It was essential that they return
to the Starskip Then he would take up a position where he could
see but not be seen, where he could intercept the air-car that must
eventually leave Aglabat, no matter what the outcome of the battle

He told ^.lusz Iphigenia of his decision, she approved "We
need only fare to Carrai Sion Trumble will escort you north of the
Skar Sakau, and matters will be as you wish "

"What of you--"

THE DEMON PRINCES

310

She looked away toward the north. "Sion Trumble has long
desired me for his bride. He has professed his love. I am willing."

Gersen made a contemptuous sound. Noble Sion Trumble had
professed his love! Gallant Sion Trumble' Gersen went to speak to
the hetinan. "There were casualties in the battle, and I notice that
now there are extra mounts. If you could spare me one of these, I
will try to return to my spaceship."

"It shall be as you wish. Select the mount of your choice."

"The most docile and easily managed of the group will serve."

Toward evening the mount was brought to the tent; at dawn
Gersen and Alusz Iphigenia would depart for Carrai.

During the night workmen from the city stole forth to erect an
enclosure a hundred feet on a side, shrouded with brown cloth to
a height of twenty feet. The Tadousko-Oi were furious at the in-
solence. They mounted their centipedes and sallied forth, cautiously
however, because the enclosure had not been set out for nothing.

Indeed it had not. When the ranks of the centipede mounts had
drawn close the brown cloth bulged: out ran an enormous centipede
with thirty-six legs, eyes flashing fire.

The Tadousko-Oi recoiled, swung about in confusion.
"Dnazd!" came the cry. "Dnazd!"

"No dnazd," Gersen told Alusz Iphigenia. "That is the product
of Patch Engineering and Construction. And it is time we were on
our way." They mounted the waiting centipede, sent it scurrying
off to the north-west. On the sward before the city the fort ran
back and forth, while the Tadousko-Oi scuttled frantically, finally
fleeing in complete disorder. In pursuit came the fort, running with
a fluid ease that gave Gersen rueful pleasure. Alusz Iphigenia was
not yet convinced. "Are you sure the thing is metal?"

"Absolutely."

Certain of the Tadousko-Oi came the way Gersen and Alusz
Iphigenia had traveled, and the fort followed, darting bolts of pur-
ple-white fire. With every flash, a centipede shriveled and five men
died; presently no more were left except that ridden by Gersen and
Alusz Iphigenia, a half-mile in advance. They made frantically for
the foothills, the fort swerved to cut them off. Up a swell of high
ground, Gersen urged the mount, around a knob of rock; here he
jumped to the ground, lifted down Alusz Iphigenia. The centipede
raced away. Gersen scrambled up to a hiding-place behind an out-
crop of moss-covered sandstone, with Alusz Iphigenia crawling af-

THE KILLING JV1ACH1NE 311

ter. She looked at him, started to speak; then said nothing. She was
dirty and scratched and disheveled; her garments were soiled, her
eyes were wide, the pupils dark with fear. Gersen had no time for
reassurances. He brought forth his projac, waited.

There came a whir, a thud of thirty-six racing feet; over the
rise scrambled the fort, to pause and search the landscape for its
prey.

Gersen fleetingly wondered if long ago in Patch's Workshop B
he had subconsciously envisioned just this sort of confrontation. He
set the projac at low power, took careful aim at a spot along the
fort's dorsal ridge, pulled the trigger. In the cutoff cell a relay threw
a switch. The legs became limber, the segmented body sagged to
the ground. Presently the hatch opened; members of the crew
alighted, to walk about the fort in obvious puzzlement. Gersen
counted them: nine, out of a crew of eleven. Two had remained
inside. All wore brown coveralls, all carried themselves in an in-
definable manner that was not of Thamber. There were two who
might be Seuman Otwal, or Billy Windle, or Kokor Hekkus: from
distance of fifty yards, Gersen could not be sure of their faces. One
turned: his neck was too long: definitely not the man Gersen
sought. The other? But he had gone back into the fort. The ioni-
zation began to dissipate, the legs were recovering their strength.
.. . "Listen!" Alusz Iphigenia breathed into Gersen's ear.

Gersen could hear nothing. "Listen!" she said again. Now Ger-
sen heard a soft click-click click-click—a sound of vast menace. It
seemed to come from behind them. Down the mountainside came
the creature that the fort duplicated: a true dnazd. Gersen found it
hard to understand how anyone could be deceived by the metal
structure. If the Tadousko-Oi had been fooled by the fort, not so
the dnazd. It came scuttling forward, stopped short, apparently
from curiosity and amazement. The crew had scrambled aboard and
clamped the hatch. The legs were still limp; from the eye came
only a weak spatter of fire, to strike the dnazd on its rear segment.
It reared high, emitted a wild whistling scream, flung itself on the
fort. Both toppled to the ground, both rolled and clambered- Man-
dibles chewed at the metal hull, poison-tipped prongs stabbed and
scratched. Within, the crew tumbled and rolled until someone man-
aged to set in motion the automatic righting sequence. Power back
to normal, the fort scrambled to its feet. Once again the dnazd flung
itself high to hurtle down at the metal segments. Fire spat from the

312 THE DEMON PRINCES

eye; the dnazd lost the use of a leg. Again the eye took aim A
central segment was blasted, and the dnazd sagged, legs thrashing
at the ground. The fort moved back; fire flared from both sides of
the eyes; the dnazd became a mound of reeking flesh

Gersen inched forward Once more he turned his projac on the
cutoff cell. As before, the fort swayed to the ground. Presently the
hatch opened, the crew limped down the ladder to the ground.
Gersen counted —nine—ten—eleven. All had come forth. They
conferred, then went to inspect the dead dnazd When they turned
about, Gersen stood nearby, his pro)ac trained on them.

"Face away from me," said Gersen. "Stand in a line with hands
in the air. I'll kill whoever gives me trouble."

There was indecision, tentative swaying and tensing as each
man calculated his chances of becoming a hero. Each decided they
were poor. Gersen underscored the fact with a flash of energy that
scorched the ground at their feet Grudgingly, faces contorted into
masks of hate, they turned their backs. Alusz Iphigenia came to )oin
Gersen, "Look inside," he said. "Make sure all are out."

She returned after a moment to report the fort empty.

"Now," said Gersen to the eleven men. "You must do exactly
as I say, if you value your lives. The first man to the right back up
six steps." He was sullenly obeyed. Gersen took his weapon, a small
but vicious projac of a design Gersen had never seen before. "Lie
down, flat on your face, put your arms to the small of your back."

One by one the eleven moved back, lay flat, were disarmed and
bound with straps from their own garments.

One by one Gersen turned the men over so that they lay on
their backs; one by one he searched their faces None were Seuman
Ocwal.

"Which of you is Kokor Hekkus7" he asked.

There was a pause, then the man who had carried the projac
spoke "He is at Aglabat."

Gersen turned to Alusz Iphigenia "You know Kokor Hekkus:

do any of these men resemble him^"

Alusz Iphigenia looked searchingly at the man who had spoken.
"His face is different—but his manner, his way of carrying himself
is the same."

Gersen considered the man's features. They appeared genuine,
without the subtle demarcations or change of texture that indicated
falseness; nor did he wear a mask. But the eyes were they the eyes

THE KILLING MACHINE 313

of Seuman OtwaP There was an indefinable similarity, a sense of
cynical wisdom. Gersen said no more. He looked over the remain-
der of the crew, then returned to the man who had spoken. "What
is your name7"

"Franz Paderbush." The voice was soft, almost obsequious.

"You are native to where7"

"I am Knight Junior of the Castle Pader, at the east ofMisk.
.. . Do you not believe me7"

"Not with any conviction "

"You need only come to Castle Paderbush," said the captive
with a rather unsuitable flippancy of manner, "and the Knight Sen-
ior, my father, will vouch for me a dozen times over."

"Possibly true," said Gersen. "Still, you resemble Billy Windle
of Skouse and also a certain Seuman Otwal whom I last met near
Krokmole. You others," he said, "get to your feet, start walking."

"WTiere3" asked one.

"Wherever you choose "

"With our arms bound the savages will kill us," grumbled an-
other

"Find a ditch and hide till nightfall "

The ten disconsolately departed. Gersen made another search
of Paderbush, but found no more weapons. "Now, Knight Junior,
to your feet and into the fort."

Paderbush obeyed with a nimble willingness that Gersen found
disquieting. He tied the Knight Junior securely to a bench, then
clamped the port, and went to the familiar controls.

"You know how to operate this horror7" asked Alusz Iphigenia.

"I helped build it."

She gave him a thoughtful, puzzled look, then turned to inspect
Franz Paderbush, who favored her with a witless smirk

Gersen worked the controls, the legs responded, the fort ran
off to the north

"Where are you going3" asked Alusz Iphigenia after a moment.

"To the spaceship, naturally "

"Through the Skar Sakau7"

"Through, or around."

"You must be mad."

Gersen was dampened. "In the fort we should be able to make
it."

"You know nothing of the trails They are difficult and often

314 THE DEMON PRINCES

lead to pitfalls. The Tadousko-Oi will roll down boulders. The
chasms are infested by dnazd. If you avoid these, there are crevasses,
precipices, crags. We have no food."

"What vou say is true. But—"

"Turn west to Carrai. Sion Trumble will honor you, and guide
you north around the Skar."

Gersen, unable to refute the arguments, with poor grace swung
the fort around, descended into the valley.

They came into a pleasant rolling country. The Skar Sakau
dwindled and faded into the blue haze. All through the warm sum-
mer afternoon the fort ran west, past small farms and granges, with
stone barns and stone cottages with tall roofs, and occasional vil-
lages. At the sight of the fort the inhabitants stood glassy-eyed,
transfixed with terror. They were an ordinary-seeming folk, fair-
skinned with dark hair: the women wearing voluminous skirts and
tight patterned bodices; the men, puffed knee-length bloomers,
bright shirts, and embroidered jackets. From time to time, a manor
house could be seen at the back of a park; occasionally there was a
castle perched high on a bluff. Certain of these manors and castles
appeared to be falling into ruins. "Ghosts," Alusz Iphigenia ex-
plained. "This is ancient country, well haunted!"

Gersen, glancing toward Franz Paderbush, surprised a quiet
smile on his face. Several times he had noted a similar smile on the
face of Seuman Otwal—but these were neither the features nor the
flesh of Seuman Otwal.

The sun sank and twilight fell across the countryside. Gersen
halted the fort at the edge of a lonely water-meadow. Rations in-
tended for the crew constituted an evening meal, after which Pad-
erbush was confined in the stern lazaret.

Gersen and AJusz Iphigenia went outside and watched fireflies.
Overhead hung the constellations of Thamber: plentiful to the
south, sparse to the north where intergalactic space began. A night-
creature sang in a nearby forest, the air was soft with the bosky
odor of vegetation. Gersen could think of nothing to say. Finally
he heaved a sigh, took her hand, which she made no effort to with-
draw.

For hours they sat with their backs to the fort. Fireflies flickered
across the meadow. From a distant village, a sad-voiced bell tolled
the passage of the hours. At last Gersen spread his cloak and they
slept in the soft grass.

THE KILLING MACHINE 315

At dawn they once more set forth to the west. The country
changed; the landscape rolled up into forested hills and valleys, then
became mountains shrouded with tall conifer-like trees. The habi-
tations became fewer, more primitive; the manor houses disap-
peared; only the castles remained to brood over valley and river.
On one occasion, the silently running fort came upon a band of
armed men parading drunkenly down the middle of the road. They
wore ragged garments and carried bows and arrows.

"Outlaws," said Alusz Iphigenia. "The Scum ofMisk and Vad-

rus.

A pair of stone keeps guarded the border; the fort ran past;

behind, bugles blared hurried calls-to-arms.

An hour later the fort came out upon a view over rolling coun-
try to north and west. Alusz Iphigenia pointed: "There is Vadrus.
See, behind the dark forest, the patch of white? That is the city
Carrai. Gentilly is yet to the west, but I am well known at Carrai.
Sion Trumble has often extended hospitality to my family, for in
Gentilly I am princess."

"So now you will become his bride."
Alusz Iphigenia looked ahead toward Carrai in regret and sad-
ness, as at some bittersweet recollection. "No. I am no longer a
child. All does not seem so easy. Before there was Sion Trumble—
and Kokor Hekkus. Sion Trumble is a warrior and no doubt is as
brutal in battle as any. But to the folk of Vadrus he makes an at-
tempt at justice. Kokor Hekkus of course is the definition of evil.
Before I would have taken Sion Trumble. Now I want neither. I
have had too much excitement. ... Indeed," she said wistfully, "I
fear that I have learned too much since leaving Thamber, and I
have lost my youth."

Gersen turned. He caught sight of the prisoner. "And why are
you amused?"

"I recall a similar disillusionment of my youth," said Franz Pad-
erbush.

"Do you care to relate the circumstances?"

"No. It is only just barely relevant to the conversation."

"How long have you served Kokor Hekkus?"

"All my life. He rules Misk, he is my master."

"Perhaps you can tell us something of his plans?"

"I fear not. I doubt if he has many, and these he keeps to

THE DPMON PR1NCFS

himself He is a remarkable man 1 imagine that he will resent the
loss of his tort "

Gersen laughed "Far less than the other harms I have dealt
him \s at Skouse, when I thwarted his bargain with Daemel Trem-
bath As at Interchange, when 1 stole his princess and paid him off
with blank paper " \s Gersen spoke he studied the eyes of Pader-
bush, was it his imagination or did the pupils dilate slightly^ The
uncertainly was exasperating, especially when it seemed so pointless
and ungrounded Billy Windle, Seuman Otwal, Franz Paderbush
none resembled the other save in physical proportion and in a cer-
tain indefinable style. None, according to Alusz Iphigema, could be
Kokor Helckus    The fort slid down from the mountains, passed
through a region of orchards and vines, then a well-watered mead-
ow land dotted with crofts and villages, then it came out on a low
headland to overlook Carrai—a city far different from Aglabat. In-
stead of grim brown walls, here were wide avenues, marble colon-
nades, villas surrounded by trees, palaces in formal gardens as
splendid as any of Earth If there were slums or hovels, they were
remote from the main thoroughfares

At the entrance to the city, a great marble arch supported a ball
of rock crystal Here stood a platoon of guards in purple and green
uniforms At the approach of the fort, a lieutenant bawled orders,
the guards marched forward, pallid but determined, seated their
pikes, and awaited death

Fifty yards from the gate, Gersen halted the fort, opened the
hatch, leapt to the ground The soldiers went limp in astonishment
AJusz Iphigema came forward, the lieutenant seemed to recognize
her in spite of her disheveled appearance "Is it Princess Iphigenia
of Dras/ane, who steps forth from the gullet of the dnazd7"

"The beast belies appearances," said Alusz Iphigenia "It is Ko-
kor Helckus' mechanical toy that we have taken from him Where
is Lord Sion Trumble, is he in residence2"

"No, Princess, he is to the north, but his Chancellor only this
moment has entered Carrai, and stands nearby I will send for him "

A tall white-bearded nobleman in black and purple velvet pres-
ently appeared He came gravely forward, made a gesture of re-
spect Alusz Iphigenia greeted him with relief, as if here at last was
someone in whom she could repose confidence She introduced him
to Gersen "The Baron Fndel Thobalt", then she inquired for Sion
Trumble Baron Thobalt responded in a voice from which irony

THE KILLING MACHINE 517

was not absent Sion Trumble had sallied forth on a raid against
the Grodnedsa corsairs of the North Promeneous Sea He was
expected back in the not-too-distant future Meanwhile the princess
should regard the city as her own this would be Sion Trumble's
desire

Alusz Iphigenia turned to Gersen, a new grace and radiance
shining from her face "I cannot repay you for your services to me,
nor would I try—after all, I suppose you did not regard them as
such Still I offer you the hospitality that I now command whatever
your desire you need only announce it "

Gersen replied that it had been his pleasure to serve her, any
obligation on her part she had more than canceled by guiding him
to Thamber. "But I'll still take advantage of your offer I want
Paderbush confined where he'll be absolutely secure until I decide
what to do with him "

"We will be lodged at the State Palace; in the crypts are suitable
dungeons " She spoke to the lieutenant of the guards, and the un-
fortunate Paderbush was hustled away

Returning to the fort, Gersen disconnected various cables and
connections, thereby disabling the mechanism Meanwhile a car-
riage had appeared, a tall ornate vehicle on golden wheels Gersen
)0ined Alusz Iphigema and Baron Thobalt in the forward compart-
ment, with a feeling of guilt for his soiled garments he seated him-
self on soft red velvet and white fur

The carriage proceeded along the boulevard, men in rich cos-
tumes and tall peaked hats, women in white gowns of many flounces
turned to watch

Ahead lay the State Palace of Sion Trumble This was a square
building at the back of a great garden, the design of which, like the
other palaces of Carrai, was at once ornate and pleasantly naive
there were six tall towers encircled by spiral staircases, a dome of
glass pentagons held in a web of bronze, terraces with balusters in
the shape of nymphs At a marble ramp the carriage halted, here
waited an extremely tall, extremely thin old man in black and gray
robes. He carried a mace terminating in an emerald ellipsoid, ap-
parently an insignia of office. He greeted Alusz Iphigema with mea-
sured respect. Baron Thobalt presented him to Gersen "Uther
Caymon, Seneschal of the State Palace."

The seneschal bowed, at the same time casting a critical eye up
and down Gersen's stained garments, then flicked his mace Foot-

}18 rw DF MON PRINCES

men appeared, escorted Alusz Iphigema and Gersen into the palace
Across a long salon hung with crystal they walked, on a carpet
woven in patterns or lavender, rose, and pale green They parted
in a circular vestibule, each to a side corridor Gersen was taken to
a suite of rooms opening on a walled garden, with blossoming trees
surrounding a fountain After the hardships of the journey, the sud-
den luxury was unreal

Gersen bathed in a warm pool, and a barber appeared to shave
him. From a wardrobe a valet brought fresh garments loose dark
green trousers gathered at the ankle, a dark blue shirt embroidered
in white, green leather slippers with eccentric curled toes, the rakish
peaked cap that seemed an essential part of the masculine attire

In the garden a table had been set with fruit, cakes, and wine
Gersen ate, drank, and wondered why, amid surroundings such as
this, Sion Trumble could bring himself to raid corsairs or indulge
in any hardships whatever

He left the apartment and wandered through the palace, finding
everywhere furnishings, rugs, and hangings of exquisite craftsman-
ship ob)ects of varying styles evidently brought from all the regions
of Thamber

In a drawing room, he came upon the Baron Thobalt who
greeted him with somber courtesy After a moment or two of pon-
dering, Thobalt inquired as to the nature of the outside universe
"—from which, so I understand, you have come "

Gersen admitted as much. He described the Oikumene, its var-
ious worlds and their organizations, the Beyond and its disorgani-
zation, the planet Earth from which had issued all humanity. He
spoke of Thamber and the legend that it had become, to which the
Baron replied that the remainder of humanity was no less a myth
to the folk of Thamber With a trace of melancholy he asked, "No
doubt you intend to return to your native environment5"

"In due course," Gersen said cautiously

"You will then explain that Thamber is after all no myth5"

"I haven't considered the matter," said Gersen "What is your
own feeling5 Perhaps you prefer isolation "

Thobalt shook his head "I am thankful that I need not make
this decision Before today, only a single individual claimed to have
visited the worlds of the stars, and this was Kokor Hekkus—but he
is denounced everywhere as a hormagaunt—a man without a soul,
and not to be trusted "

THE KILLING MACHINE 319

"You are acquainted with Kokor Hekkus5"

"I have seen him across the field of war "

Gersen forbore to ask if the Baron had noted a similarity with
the man Paderbush Thinking of Paderbush, now a prisoner in the
crypts, he felt a twinge of conscience if the man were not Kokor
Hekkus, his only offense was participation m a counterattack upon
the Tadousko-Oi

Gersen signaled a footman "Take me to the crypts where my
prisoner is confined "

"A moment, Sir Knight, I will inform the seneschal, he alone
carries keys to the crypts "

The seneschal presently appeared, considered Gersen's request,
then rather grudgingly, or so it seemed, took Gersen to a great
door of carved wood, unlocked it to reveal a second iron door,
which opened upon a flight of stone steps These led down a long
single flight, into an area paved with granite flags, illuminated by
slits communicating with the outside daylight To one side, iron-
barred doors led into cells, only one of which was occupied The
seneschal gestured "There is your prisoner. If you wish to kill him,
be kind enough to use the chamber beyond, where the necessary
equipment is at hand "

"I plan nothing like that I only wanted to assure myself that
he suffered nothing ill."

"This is not Aglabat, there is nothing of that sort here "

Gersen went to look through the bars, Paderbush, leaning back
in a chair, surveyed him with contemptuous mockery. The cell was
dry and airy, on a table were the remnants of an apparently ade-
quate meal

"You are satisfied5" asked the seneschal.

Gersen turned away with a nod. "A week or two of meditation
can do him no great harm Allow him to see no one but myself."

"As you wish " The seneschal conducted Gersen back to the
drawing-room, where now Alusz Iphigenia had joined the Baron
Present were also other ladies and knights of the palace Alusz Iph-
igenia looked at Gersen with something like surprise "I have
known you only as a spaceman," she told him "I am surprised to
see you a gentleman of Vadrus "

Gersen grinned "I haven't changed, in spite of the finery But
you—" he could not find words to express what he wanted to say.

Alusz Iphigenia said rather hurriedly, "I have had word that

320 HIP 1)1- MON PRINC FS

Sion Trumble returns. He will be with us at this evening's ban-
quet."

Gersen felt an emptiness. He strove to deny it to himself in
spite of his clothes he was no gentleman, of Vadrus or elsewhere,
he was Kirth Gersen, survivor of the Mount Pleasant massacre,
doomed to a lifetime of dark deeds. He said lightly, "This is what
makes you happy—the nearness of your betrothed?"

She shook her head. "He is hardly that, as you well know. I am
happy because—but no' I am not happy. I am all at odds with
myself!" She gave her hands an excited nutter "Look! All this is
mine, should I want it' I can en)ov all the best ofThamber' But—do
I want it3 And then there is Kokor Hekkus, who is unpredictable.
But somehow I do not think of him . . Is it that I prefer the life
of a vagabond—that I have seen enough of the worlds beyond
Thamber to tantalize me7"

Gersen had nothing to say. She sighed, looked at him from the
corner of her eye. "But I have small choice I am here now and
here I must stay. Next -week I return to Draszane—and you will be
gone. .. . You will, won't you^"

Gersen gave the matter sober thought. "Where and how I go
depends on how best I can return to the spaceship "

"And then?"

"And then—I continue with what I came to do."

She sighed. "It seems a bleak prospect. Back to the Skar Sakau.
. . . The crags and chasms once more. Then Aglabat. How will you
find your way through the walls^ And it you are captured—" she
grimaced. "When I first heard of the crypts under Aglabat I did
not sleep for months, I was afraid to sleep, ror fear ot the Aglabat
crypts."

An attendant in pale green livery passed by with a tray; Alusz
Iphigema took two goblets, gave one to Gersen "And if you were
killed or captured—how could I leave Thamber, if I were of a mind
to do so?"

Gersen laughed uncomfortably "If I thought of these matters,
I would fear them. I would be less effective tor my fear and hence
more likely to suffer capture or death. If you wed Sion Trumble,
it appears that you will have the same problems."

Alusz Iphigenia shrugged her slender bare shoulders—she wore
the white flounced sleeveless gown characteristic of the city. "He
is handsome, gentle, just, gallant—and perhaps too good for me. I

THE KILLING MACHINE 321

suddenly find myself thinking thoughts and wishing wishes I never
knew before." She looked around the room, listened a moment to
the murmur of conversation, then turned back to Gersen. "I find
it hard to express myself—but in a period when men and women
fly space almost instantly, when a hundred worlds associate them-
selves in an Oikumene, when anything seems possible to human
reason, this remote little planet with its extremes of virtue and vi-
dousness seems unthinkable."

Gersen, who knew the worlds Beyond and the worlds of the
Oikumene much more intimately than Alusz Iphigema, could not
share her feelings. "It depends," he said, "on how you regard hu-
manity: its past, its present, and what you hope for the future. Most
people of the Oikumene might agree with you. The Institute"—he
laughed hollowly—"probably would prefer more ofThamber in the
daily life of the Oikumene."

"I know nothing of the Institute," said Alusz Iphigenia. "Are
they evil men, or criminals3"

"No," said Gersen. "They are philosophers. . .."

Alusz Iphigema sighed, almost absently, reached forth to take
his hand. "There is so much I don't know." A herald marched into
the room, followed by pages with long clarions. The herald cried,
"Sion Trumble, Grand Prince ofVadrus, enters his palace'"

The room became quiet. A distant measured clanking could be
heard in the hall. The pages raised their clarions, blew a fanfare.
Into the room strode Sion Trumble, wearing stained armor, a mo-
rion dented and smeared with blood. He removed the morion, re-
vealing a mass of blond ringlets, a close-cropped blond beard, a fine
straight nose, and the bluest of blue eyes. He raised his arm in salute
to all, then marched to Alusz Iphigenia, bowed over her hand. "My
princess—you have chosen to return."

Alusz Iphigenia giggled. Sion Trumble looked at her in sur-
prise. "The truth of the matter," said Alusz Iphigema, "is that this
gentleman allowed me no choice."

Sion Trumble turned to inspect Gersen. He and Sion Trumble
would never be friends, thought Gersen. Noble, gallant, gentle, and
just though Sion Grumble might be, he likewise was almost cer-
tainly humorless, self-righteous, and obstinate.

"I have been informed of your coming," Sion Trumble told
Gersen. "I noted the dreadful mechanism in which you came. We
shall have much to discuss. But now, please excuse me. I go to

322 THE DEMON PRINCES

relieve myself of my armor." He turned, departed the room. The
murmur of conversation began again.

Alusz Iphigenia had no more to say, and became almost pensive.
An hour later, the company moved to the banquet hall. At an ele-
vated table sat Sion Trumble in robes of scarlet and white flanked
by nobles of the realm. Below ranged other folk in strict order of
precedence. Gersen found himself near the outer door, and he
noted that Alusz Iphigcnia, for all her ostensible standing as the
betrothed of Sion Trumble, still gave way to at least six ladies of
presumably more elevated rank.

The banquet was long and splendid; the wines were strong.
Gersen ate and drank sparingly, answered questions with courtesy,
unsuccessfully tried to make himself inconspicious, for it appeared
that every eye was on him.

Sion Trumble ate scantily and drank less. Halfway through the
meal he rose, and pleading fatigue, excused himself from the com-
pany.

Somewhat later a page came behind Gersen to whisper in his
ear; "My lord, at your convenience, the prince wishes to speak with
yon."

Gersen rose to his feet; the page led him to the circular vesti-
bule, along a corridor, through a door into a small drawing-room
paneled in green wood. Here sat Sion Trumble, now wearing a
loose gown of pale blue silk. He motioned Gersen to a chair nearby,
indicated a tabouret on which stood goblets and flasks. "Be at ease,"
he said. "You are a man of a far world; please ignore our incom-
prehensible protocol. We will talk as one man to another, with
complete candor. Tell me—why are you here?"

Gersen could see no reason to tell other than the truth. "I came
to kill Kokor Hekkus."

Sion Trumble raised his eyebrows. "Alone? How will you storm
his walls? How will you defeat the Brown Bersaglers?"

"I don't know."

Sion Trumble looked into the fire that burned in a nearby grate.
"As of the moment, truce exists between Misk and Vadrus. There
might well have been war when the Princess Iphigenia chose to cast
her lot with me, but now it seems that she will have neither of us."
He frowned into the fire, gripped the chair handles. "I will provide
no provocation."

THE KILLING MACHINE 323

"Can you help me in any way whatever?" Gersen thought that
he might as well learn the worst.

"Conceivably. What is your quarrel with Kokor Hekkus?"

Gersen described the raid on Mount Pleasant. "Five men de-
stroyed my home, killed all my kin, enslaved my friends. I hope to
bring retribution to these five. Malagate is dead. Kokor Hekkus will
be next."

Sion Trumble frowned and nodded. "You have undertaken
what seems a formidable task. Specifically what do you want of
me?"

"First, your help and guidance in returning to my spaceship,
which I left to the north of the Skar Sakau."

"This I will provide, to the best of my ability. To the north of
the Skar are principalities hostile to me, and the Tadousko-Oi are
implacable."

"There is another aspect to the affair," said Gersen. He hesi-
tated, suddenly aware of another startling possibility that till now
he had not recognized. He continued slowly. "When I took the fort
from Kokor Hekkus, I took also a prisoner who I thought might
be Kokor Hekkus himself. Princess Iphigenia thinks not; but I am
uncertain. It seemed unlikely then, and does so now, that Kokor
Hekkus could resist the first trial of his new toy. . . . And something
about this prisoner reminds me of another man who might also he
Kokor Hekkus."

"I can deal with your uncertainty," said Sion Trumble. "In the
palace is Baron Eri Castiglianu, once intimately leagued with Kokor
Hekkus and now his direct enemy. If anyone will know Kokor Hek-
kus, the Baron Castiglianu is the man, and tomorrow you may make
the test."

"I will be happy to hear his opinion."

Sion Trumble came to a decision. "I cannot help you to any
large extent; for I do not visit war or hardship upon my people
without good cause. So long as Kokor Hekkus keeps to Aglabat I
will not provoke him."

He made a sign: the audience was over. Gersen rose to his feet,
left the room. In the antechamber he found the seneschal who con-
ducted him to his apartments. Gersen went out into the garden,
looked up at the sky, found the scimitar-shaped cluster: the "God-
Boat," and thought of what he must do, and was almost appalled.
Yet—what otherwise? Why had he come to Thamber?

324 7 HE DEMON PRINCFS

He went to bed and slept well Sunlight streaming into his room
awakened him He bathed, dressed in the most somber of the gar-
ments to he found in his wardrobe, ate a breakfast of fruit, pastry,
and tea Clouds rolled in from the west and there was rain in his
garden Gersen watched the drops plash in the pool, and considered
the various factors to the situation Always he returned to the same
idea the identity of Paderbush must be established by one means
or another

A page entered to announce the attendance of Baron Eri Cas-
tiglianu He was a gaunt man of middle age, stern of demeanor,
scarred along both his cheeks "I have been ordered by Prince Sion
Trumble to place my special knowledge at your disposal," he said
"This I shall be pleased to do "

"You are aware of what I require3"

"Not clearly "

"I want you to look closely at a man and tell me whether or
not he is Kokor Hekkus "

The baron grimaced "And what then3"

"You can do this3"

"Assuredly. Notice these scars they were wrought by the orders
of Kokor Hekkus I hung three days on a rod through my cheeks,
living only through hate "

"Come then, let us inspect this man "

"He is here?"

"He is confined below, in the crypts."

The page brought the seneschal, who unlocked the double
doors of timber and metal Into the crypt the three descended.
Paderbush stood in the cell, hands on bars, legs apart, staring forth
into the outer chamber Gersen pointed "This is the man "

The baron advanced, inspected Paderbush closely

"Well3" asked Gersen

"No," said the baron after a moment "This is not Kokor Hek-
kus At least—no, I am sure not .  Although the eyes look at me
with evil wisdom    No, he is a stranger I have never met him at
Aglabat or elsewhere "

"Very well then, it appears I have been wrong " Gersen turned
to the seneschal "Open the door "

"You intend to release the man3"

"Not completely But he need no longer be confined in a dun-
geon."

THE KILLING MACHINE 325

The seneschal unlocked the door "Come forth," said Gersen
"It appears that I have done you an injustice."

Paderbush slowly stepped from the cell, he had not been ex-
pecting release, and he moved warily

Gersen took him by the wrist, using a grip that could instantly
be transposed into an arm-lock "Come along, back up the stairs "

"Where do you take this man3" the seneschal inquired petu-
lantly.

"Prince Sion Trumble and I will jointly make a decision," said
Gersen To Baron Eri Castighanu he said "My thanks for your
cooperation, you have been helpful "

Baron Castighanu hesitated. "This man may be a villain in any
case, he may seek to overpower you "

Gersen displayed the projac he carried in his left hand "I am
prepared for anything."

The baron bowed, walked swiftly away, relieved to be dis-
charged of his obligation. Gersen took Paderbush to his apartments,
closed the door upon the seneschal

Gersen seated himself in a leisurely manner, Paderbush stood
in the center of the room and finally asked "WTiat do you plan
with me now3"

"I am still puzzled," said Gersen. "Possibly you are the man
you say you are; in which case I know nothing to your discredit,
other than the fact that you serve Kokor Hekkus. Still, I would not
have you pent in a dungeon for hypothetical crimes You are soiled,
will you bathe3"

"No."

"You prefer sweat and grime3 Perhaps you would change your
clothes3"

"No "

Gersen shrugged "As you wish."

Paderbush folded his arms, glared down at Gersen "WTiy do
you restrain me here3"

Gersen considered "I suspect that your life is m danger I mean
to protect you "

"I am well able to protect myself."

"Nevertheless, please seat yourself in that chair yonder " Ger-
sen pointed with the tip of his pro)ac "You stand like a wild beast
about to pounce, and this makes me uneasy."

Paderbush gave him a cold grin, seated himself "I have done

326 THE DEMON PRINCES

you no harm," he said presently. "But you have humiliated me,
thrown me into a dungeon, and now you ply me with hints and
innuendos. I tell you, Kokor Hekkus is not a man to overlook pur-
poseful wrongs done to his underlings. If you wish to spare your
host much embarrassment I suggest that you discharge me from
custody, that I may return to Aglabat."

"You know Kokor Hekkus well?" Gersen asked in a tone of
easy conversation.

"Certainly. He is a man like a Khasferug eagle. His eyes glitter
with intelligence. His joy and his anger are both like fire, and sweep
all before them. His imagination is as broad as the sky, everyone
wonders regarding the thoughts that form and pass behind his
brow, and from what source they are derived."

"Interesting," said Gersen. "I am eager to meet him—as I shall
soon do."

Paderbush was incredulous. "You are to meet Kokor Hekkus?"

Gersen nodded. "You and I will return to Aglabat in the fort—
after a week or two of rest here at Carrai."

"I prefer to leave at this moment."

"Impossible. I want no notice of my arrival; I wish to surprise
Kokor Hekkus."

Paderbush sneered. "You are a fool. You are more than a fool.
How can you surprise Kokor Hekkus? He knows more of your
movements than you do yourself."

12

From "The Avatar's Apprentice," in Scroll from the
Ninth Dimension:

There was no cessation to the haze that extended right
and left in gelid layers, and up was as good as down. There
was a sense of comings and goings, of invisible fluttering
messages: all quite beyond Marmaduke's apprehension. He
began to suspect that somehow the Doctrine of Temporal
Stasis had effected a transposition of percepts. Why else, he
wondered, as he groped through the mauve suffusion,
should the word "lachrymose" occur to him again and again
and again?

He found himself at the edge of a bulging limpid win-
dow, beyond which danced anamorphotic visions. Looking
up he spied a fringe of curving rods; below he found a pink
curving shelf, in which were embedded more of these rods.
To the side a lumpy porous object thrust forth like a pro-
digious nose: and he now saw the object to be a nose in all
verity, a most extraordinary object. Marmaduke altered the
trend of his musings. The central problem, so it seemed,
was to learn from whose eye he looked forth. Much, after
all, would depend upon his viewpoint.

The morning passed. Paderbush at times seemed to doze in the
chair, at times seemed vividly alert, on the verge of a sudden attack
upon Gersen. After one of these tense periods Gersen said, "I urge
you to patience. First, as you know, I carry a weapon"—he held

THE. DKMON PRINCF.S

328

the projac up into Paderbush's view—"and second, even without it
you could do nothing against me."

"Are vou so sure?" Paderbush asked with weary insolence. "We
are of a size; let us try a fall or two, and see who is the better man."

"Thank you; not on this occasion. WTly should we exert our-
selves? Presently we will have our noon meal, so let us relax."

"As you wish."

At the door sounded a tap-tap-tap. Gcrsen went to stand by the
thick panel. "Who is there?"

"It is Uther Caymon, seneschal," came the muffled voice.
"Open the door, if you please."

Gersen did so; the seneschal stepped forward. "The Prince
wishes to see you in his chambers at once. He has heard the opinion
of the Baron Eri Castiglianu and he begs that the prisoner be given
his freedom; he wishes to provide Kokor Hekkus no pretext for
contentiousness."

"I definitely intend to relinquish all control over this man, in
due course," said Gersen. "But now he has agreed to accept the
hospitality of Sion Trumble for possibly two weeks."

"That is generous of him," observed the seneschal drily, "in-
asmuch as the Grand Prince has been so remiss as to forget to
proffer this same hospitality. Will you accompany me to the apart-
ments of Prince Sion Trumble?"

Gersen rose to his feet. "With pleasure. What will I do with
our guest? I dare not leave him, nor do I care to go everywhere
arm in arm with him."

"Return him to the dungeon," said the seneschal crossly. "This
is hospitality adequate for his sort."

"The Grand Prince would not agree to this," declared Gersen.
"He has only just requested that I release the man."

The seneschal blinked. "That is so."

"Please convey my apologies, and ask if he will condescend to
meet me here."

The seneschal made a gruff noise, threw up his hands in a help-
less gesture, threw a baleful side-glance toward Paderbush and left
the room.

Gersen and Paderbush sat facing each other. "Tell me," said
Gersen, "are you acquainted with a man named Seurnan Otwal?"

"I have heard his name mentioned."

THE KILLING MACHINE 329

"He is an associate of Kokor Hekkus. You and he have certain
mannerisms in common."

"That may well be true—perhaps because of our association
with Kokor Hekkus. . .. WTiat are these mannerisms?"

"An attitude of the head, a certain set of gesticulations, what I
might call a psychic aura. Very strange indeed."

Paderbush nodded solemnly, but said no more. A few minutes
later Alusz Iphigenia came to the door, and was admitted. She
glanced in surprise from Gersen to Paderbush. "Why is this man
here?"

"He thinks the solitude of the dungeon unjust, since his of-
fenses number only a dozen or so murders."

Paderbush grinned wolfishly. "I am Paderbush, Knight Junior
of Castle Pader; none of my line have shunned taking a life or two,
at the risk of his own."

Alusz Iphigenia turned away, addressed herself to Gersen.
"Carrai is not so gay as before. Something has changed, something
is lacking: perhaps it is in me. ... I want to return to Draszane, to
my home."

"I thought that a great gala was being planned in your honor."

Alusz Iphigenia shrugged. "Perhaps it has already been forgot-
ten. Sion Trumble is angry with me—or at least is not so gallant
as before." She gave Gersen a quick side-glance. "Perhaps he is
jealous,"

" 'Jealous'? Why should he be jealous?"

"After all, you and I spent much time alone. This is enough to
arouse suspicion—and jealousy."

"Ridiculous," said Gersen.

Alusz Iphigenia raised her eyebrows. "Am I so ill-favored? Is
the mere suggestion of such a relationship so absurd?"

"Not at all," said Gersen. "To the contrary. But we must not
let Sion Trumble suffer such a misconception." He summoned a
page, sent him to request audience with Sion Trumble.

The page presently returned, to announce that the prince was
seeing no one.

"Return," said Gersen. "Convey to Sion Trumble this message.
Say that tomorrow I must depart. If necessary I will ride the fort
north of the Skar Sakau and somehow find my spaceship. Also,
inform the prince that Princess Iphigenia plans to accompany me.
Inquire now if he will see us."

1IIEDI MON PRINCFS

Alusz Iphigenia turned to Gersen. "You really mean to take
me?"

"If you care to return to the Oikurnene."

"But what of Kokor Hekkus^ I thought—"

"A detail "

"Then you're not serious," said Alusz Iphigenid sadly.

"Yes Will you come with rne^"

She hesitated, then nodded "Yes. Why not7 Your life is real.
My life—all of Thamber—none of it is real. It is animated myth,
archaic scenes from a diorama. It stifles me."

"Very well. We will leave very soon "

Alusz Iphigema looked at Paderbush "What of him?" she asked
dubiously. "Will you free him, or leave him for Sion Trumble?"

"No He comes with us."

Alus/ Iphigenia turned a puzzled glance at Gersen. "With—
us?"

"Yes. For a brief period "

Paderbush rose to his feet, stretched his arms. "This conver-
sation bores me. I will never go with you "

"Oh? Not even so far as Aglabat, to meet Kokor Hekkus?"

"I go to Aglabat alone—and now." He sprang through the
apartment, fled across the garden, bounded up and over the wall.
He was gone.

Alusz Iphigcma ran to look across the garden, then turned to
Gersen "Gall the attendants' He can't get tar, these gardens are
all part of the inner courtyard. Hurry'"

Gersen seemed in no desperate haste Alusz Iphigema tugged
at his arm. "Do you wish him to escape?"

"No," said Gersen, with sudden energy. "He must not escape.
We will inform Sion Trurnble, who will best know how to recapture
him Come."

In the corridor Gersen ordered the page, "'1 ake us quickly to
Sion Trumble's apartments, on the run'"

The page led them along a corridor, to the circular vestibule,
down another red-carpeted hall to a broad white door Here stood
two guards in white uniforms with black iron morions.

"Open'" said Gersen. "We must see Sion Trumble at once."

"No, my lord. We have orders from the seneschal to admit no

i>

one.

Gersen aimed his profac at the lock There was a blaze of fire

I HE KILLING \UUl!\r

and smoke, the guards cried out in protest Gersen said, "Stand
back, guard the hall; for the safety ofVadrus'"

I'he guards hesitated, half-dazed. Gersen thrust open the door,
entered with /\lus/ Iphigema

They stood m an entry, with white marble statues looking down
from alcoves. Gersen peered along one hall, through an archway,
walked up to a closed door, listened From beyond came the sound
ot movement. He tried the door. it was locked. He used his pro)ac,
burst the door open, charged into the room.

Sion Trumble, half-clad, leapt around in startlement. He
opened his mouth, bawled something incomprehensible. Alusz Iph-
igema gasped "He's wearing the clothes of Paderbush'"

This was true on a frame hung Sion Trumble's green and blue
robes; he had been divesting the stained garments worn by Pader-
bush Now he reached for his sword, Gersen hacked at his wrist,
struck it from his hand. Sion Trumble reached to a shelf where
reposed a hand-weapon, Gersen destroyed it with a blast of his
projac.

Sion Trumble turned slowly, sprang at Gersen like a wild beast
Gersen laughed aloud, stooped, caught his shoulder in Sion Trum-
ble's belly, grabbed the instantly raised knee, tossed him through
the air. He caught at the blond curly hair, and as Sion Trumble
struggled and surged, pulled. Off came the blond hair, off came the
entire face, leaving Gersen holding a warm rubbery sac by the hair,
the fine straight nose tilted askew, the mouth lolled open. The man
on the floor had no face. The scalp, the face muscles showed pink
and red through a film of transparent tissue. The eyes glared lidless
under a bare forehead, above a black nostril gap. The lipless mouth
grimaced, w^ite with its suddenly conspicuous teeth.

"WTw—what is rhat^' asked Alusz Iphigema in a hushed voice.

"That," said Gersen, "is a hormagaunt. It is Kokor Hekkus. Or
Billy Windle. Or Seuman Otwal. Or Paderbush. Or a dozen others
And now his time has come. Kokor Hekkus—recall the raid on
Mount Pleasant? I have come to bring you retribution."

Kokor Hekkus rose slowly to his feet, death's head of a face
staring.

"Once you told me that \ou feared only death," said Gersen.
"Now you are to die "

Kokor Hekkus made a gasping sound

Gersen said, "You have lived the most evil ot lives. I should kill

332 THE DEMON PRINCES

you with the utmost terror and pain—but it is sufficient that you
die." He pointed his projac. Kokor Hekkus gave a wild hoarse
sound, flung forward with arms and legs wide, to be met by a gush
of fire.

The following day Seneschal Uther Caymon was hanged at the
public gallows: the accessory, creature, companion, and confidant
of Kokor Hekkus. Standing on a tall jointed ladder he yelled down
to the awed crowd, "Fools! Fools! Do you realize how long you
have been gulled and milked, and bled? Of your gold, of your war-
riors, of your beautiful women? For two hundred years! I am this
old, Kokor Hekkus was older! Against the Brown Bersaglers he sent
your best and they died in futility; to his bed came your beautiful
girls; some returned to their homes, others did not. You will cry
when you hear of how they fared! At last he died, at last I die, but
fools! fools!—"

The executioner had broken the ladder. The crowd stared hol-
low-eyed at the jerking figure.

Alusz Iphigenia and Gersen walked in the garden at the palace of
Baron Endel Thobalt. She still was pale with horror. "How did you
know? You knew—but how?"

"First I suspected from Sion Trumble's hands. He had the wit
to carry himself differently from Paderbush, but his hands were the
same: long-fingered, a smooth glossy skin, thin thumbs with long
nails. I saw these hands, but was deceived—until once more I saw
Paderbush at close range. Sion Trumble disclosed himself further.
He was aware that you had decided not to wed him: he told me so.
But only three people knew: you, me, and Paderbush, for only in
the fort did you make up your mind. When I heard Sion Trumble
make this statement then I looked at his hands, and I knew."

"What an evil thing. I wonder what planet bore him, who were
his parents. . . ."

"He was a man blessed and cursed with his imagination. A sin-
gle life was insufficient for him; he must drink at every spring, know
every experience, live to all extremes. On Thamber he found a
world to his temperament. In his various entities he created his own
epics. WTien he tired of Thamber, he returned to the other worlds
of man—less amenable to his will, but nonetheless amusing. He is
dead."

THE KILLING MACHINE 333

"And now more than ever 1 must leave Thamber," said Alusz
Iphigenia.

"There is nothing to keep us. Tomorrow we shall leave."

"WT-iy tomorrow? Let us leave now. 1 think—I am sure—that
1 can take us to the spaceship. The way north around the Skar is
not hard; the landmarks are known."

"There is no need to stay," said Gersen. "Let us go."

A small group of Carrai noblemen gathered in the late afternoon
light. Baron Endel Thobalt spoke with sudden anxiety: "You will
send back ships from the Oikumene?"

Gersen nodded. "I have agreed to do so, and I will."

Alusz Iphigenia, heaving a small sigh, looked around the land-
scape. "Someday—I don't know when—I will come back to Tham-
ber too."

"Remember," Gersen told the baron, "that if ships from the
Oikumene arrive your old ways will not last! There will be grum-
bling and nostalgia and dissatisfaction. Perhaps you prefer Thamber
as it is now?"

"I can speak only for myself," said Endel Thobalt. "I say that
we must rejoin humanity, no matter what the cost."

He was echoed by his fellows.

"As you wish," said Gersen. Alusz Iphigenia climbed within,
Gersen followed, clamped the hatch, went to the console, looked
down at the bronze plague:

Patch Engineering and Construction Company

Patris, Krokinole

"Good old Patch," said Gersen. "I'll have to send him a report
on how his machine worked—presuming that it carries us back to
the spaceship."

Alusz Iphigenia, standing beside him, pressed her head lightly
against his shoulder. Looking down into the shining dusty-golden
hair, Gersen remembered how first he had seen her at Interchange,
how first he had thought her unremarkable. He laughed quietly.
Alusz Iphigenia looked up. "W^hy do you laugh?"

"Someday you'll know. But not right now."

Smiling at some private recollection other own, Alusz Iphigenia
said no more.

354                                  THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen thrust the GO lever ahead. Thirty-six legs rose and fell;

eighteen segments moved forward. The fort slid off to the north-
west, where the long light of the afternoon sun glinted on the white
peaks of the Skar Sakau.

From Popular Handbook to the Planets, 348th edition. 1525:

SARKOVY: Single planet of Phi Ophiuchi. Planetary
constants: diameter—9,600 miles; sidereal day—37.2
hours; mass—1.40; G—.98 . . .

Sarkovy is moist and cloudy; with an axis normal to
the orbital plane it knows no seasons.

The surface lacks physiographical contrast. The
characteristic features of the landscape are the steppes:

Hopman Steppe, Gorobundur Steppe, the Great Black
Steppe, and others... . From the abundant flora the no-
torious Sarkoy venefices leach and distill the poisons for
which they are famous.

The population is largely nomadic, though certain
tribes, generically known as Night Hobs, live among
the forests. (For detailed information regarding the
rather appalling customs of the Sarkoy, consult the En-
cyclopedia of Sociology and The Sexual Habits of the Sarkoy,
by BA. Edgar.)

The Sarkoy pantheon is ruled by Godogma, who
carries a flower and a flail and walks on wheels. Every-
where along the Sarkoy steppes may be found tall poles
with wheels on high, in praise of Godogma, the strid-
ing, wheeling God of Fate.

THF DEMON PRINCPS

News feature in Rigelhan Journal, Avente, Alphanor

Paing, Godoland, Sarkovy July 12

As if Claris Adam were to he destroyed for beguil-
ing William Wales

As if the Abbatram of Pamfile were to be liquefied
for smelling too strongly

As if Deacon Fitzbah of Shaker City were to be
immolated for an excess of zeal

Today from Sarkovy comes news that Master Ve-
nefice Kakarsis Asm must "cooperate with the guild"
for selling poison

Circumstances, of course, are not all that simple
Asm's customer, no ordinary murderer, was Viole Fa-
lushe, one of the Demon Princes The essence of the
crime was neither "trafficking with a notorious crimi-
nal" nor "betrayal of guild secrets," but rather "selling
fixed-price poisons at a discount "

Kakarsis Asm must die

How7 How else7

The longer Alusz Iphigema traveled in the company ofKirth Ger-
sen, the less certain she became that she understood his personality.
His moods perplexed her, his behavior was a source of misgiving
His modesty and self-effacement—were they inversion, brooding
cynicism3 His careful politeness—could it be no more than a sin-
ister camouflage7 Such questions entered her mind with increasing
frequency no matter how staunchly she rejected them

On one occasion—the date was July 22, 1526—they sat on the
Avente Esplanada in front of the Grand Rotunda, Gersen sought
to explain the seeming contradictions of his character "There's
really no mystery I've been trained to a certain function It's all I
know To justify the training, to fulfill my life, I exercise the func-
tion It's as simple as that."

Alusz Iphigenia knew the general outlines ofGersen's past The
five Demon Princes joining for the historic raid on Mount Pleasant
had destroyed or enslaved five thousand men and women Among
the handful of survivors were Rolf Gersen and his young grandson
Alusz Iphigema realized that such an experience must alter anyone's
life, still, she herself had known tragedy and terror "I am not
changed," she told Gersen earnestly "I feel neither rage nor hate "

illL !^L~t(EOI LOl-L

"My grandfather relt the rage and hate," said Gersen in rather
a flippant tone ot voice "So far as I'm concerned the hate is ab-
stract "

'\lus/ Iphigema became e\cn more disturbed "Are you then
just a mechanism7 This is rnindtessness, to be the instrument of
someone else's hate'"

Crersen grinned "That's not quite accurate \\\ grandfather
trained me, or rather had me trained, and I am grateful to him.
Without the training I would be dead "

"He must ha\e been a terrible man, so to warp a child's mind'"

"He was a dedicated man," said Gersen "He loved me and
assumed I shared his dedication I did and I do "

"But what of the future7 Is revenge all you want from life7"

" 'Revenge'7    I don't think so I have only one life to live and
I know what 1 hope to achieve "

"But why not try to achieve the same goals through a lawful
agency7 Isn't this a better way7"

"There isn't any lawful agency Only the IPCC*, which isn't
altogether etfective "

" Fhen why not bring the issues before the people of the Con-
course, and the other important worlds7 You have the energy, you
have more than enough mono) Isn't this better than killing men
with your own hands7"

Gersen had no rational counterarguments "These aren't my
talents," he told her "I work alone at what I do best"

"But you could learn'"

Gersen shook his head "If [ involve myself with words and
harangues, I trap myself, I become futile "

Alus/ Iphigema rose to her feet She walked to the balustrade,
looked out across the rhaumaturge Ocean Gersen studied the
clear profile, the proud stance, as if he had never seen them before
The time was approaching when he must lose her, and everything
that was eas) and fresh and uncomplicated would leave his life The
breeze shifted her bright hair, she was looking down into the blue
water, watching the shifting glints and planes ofRigel light Gersen
sighed, picked up a newspaper and morosely scanned the frontpage

*IPC C Inn_r\u)rld Polin- ( oonim.unm C oinpirn—m thcon .a pn\ )[L or^mi/.mon pri)
mim^ the I<)L)I poliLL s\stLins ot tin OikuiiiLiiL sp(.u lli^ul (.onsultltion i cuitril inter
nnnon hit Lnniinolo^iLil hhonroriLs in prictiLt  l siiptrgoicrnniLnnl igeno
oLLisionilh ninu-ninin^ as i bn in irscit I he complin stock is widd\ disscnimircd ind
though \ itlilin^ no t^rc it hn inu ll arum is much in dun ind

340 I HP DF MON PRINCFS

COSMOLOGISI KILIFD

Hyrcan Major Attacks Camping Party
Gersen glanced at the text

Trovenei, Phrygia, July 21 Johan Scrub, advocate
of the star-capture theory which assigns the original
parentage of the Concourse Worlds to Blue Compan-
ion, yesterday was set upon by an adult hyrcan ma)or,
and almost instantly killed Dr Strub and several mem-
bers of his family were exploring the Midas Mountains
of upper Phrygia and unwittingly crossed the elving-
platform of a king beast Before others in his party were
able to destroy the eight-foot ogre, Dr Strub had suf-
fered fatal blows

Dr. Strub is chiefly noted for his efforts to prove
that Blue Companion and the twenty-six worlds of the
Concourse were originally an independent system
which wandered into the gravitational domain of Rigel
Such a circumstance would explain the disparity in the
ages of the Concourse worlds and Rigel, a compara-
tively young star

Gersen looked up Alusz Iphigenia had not moved He read on

COSMOPOLIS MAGAZINE ABOUT TO BE SOLD

Famous Old Journal Faces Extinction
Directors Make Last-ditch Efforts at Salvage

London, England, Earth, June 25 The ancient firm of
Radian Publishing Company today sought a stopgap loan
to meet the chronic annual deficit incurred in the publica-
tion of Cosmopohs, the 792-year-old magazine devoted to the
life and affairs of the civilized universe Sherman Zugweil,
Chairman of Radian's Board of Directors, admitted a crisis
to be at hand, but announced himself confident of coping
with it and keeping the doughty old journal in circulation
another eight hundred years

THF P iLiCE OF LOIT 341

Alusz Iphtgenu had shifted her position Elbows on the balustrade,
chin resting in her hands, she studied the hon/on Contemplating
the soft contours, Gersen felt himself softening He now was a man
of almost unlimited wealth, the\ could live a life of wonderful ease
and pleasure    Gersen considered a long minute, then shrugged
and looked back to the newspaper

S^RKO\^ POISON-VUSIER TO DIF

C.UILU RULES \IOL\IFD

Pamg, Godoland, Sarkovy, July 12 As if Claris Adam
were to he destroyed

Alus/ Iphigenia glanced over her shoulder Gersen was reading the
newspaper in complete absorption She swung around in outrage.
Here was sang-froid indeed While she wrestled with doubts and
conflicts, Gersen read a newspaper an act of conspicuous msensi-
tivity'

Gersen looked up, smiled. His mood had changed. He had
comeah\e Alusz Iphigenia's fury ebbed Gersen was a man beyond
her understanding, whether he were vastly more subtle than she or
vastly more elemental, she would never know

Gersen had risen to his feet "We're going on a trip Across
space, toward Ophmchus Are vou ready3"

"Ready2 You mean now2"

"Yes Now W^hynot^

"No reason    Yes, I'm ready In two hours "

"I'll call the spaceport "

The Distis Spaceship Corporation produced nineteen models,
ranging from a version of the 9B to the splendid Distis Imperatrix,
with a black and gold hull. With funds derived from his epic looting
of Interchange* Gersen had purchased a Pharaon, a spacious craft
equipped with such niceties as an automatic atmospheric control
which during the course of a voyage gradually altered air pressure
and composition to match that of the destination.

Rigel and the Concourse receded. Ahead lay star-spangled dark-
ness. Alusz Iphigenia studied the Star Directory with a puzzled
frown. "Ophiuchus isn't a star. It's a sector. Where are we going?"

"The sun is Phi Ophiuchi," said Gersen, and after a barely
perceptible pause, "the planet is Sarkovy."

"Sarkovy?" Alusz Iphigenia looked up quickly. "Isn't that where
the poisons come from?"

Gersen gave a curt nod. "The Sarkoy are poisoners, no doubt
about it."

Alusz Iphigenia looked dubiously out the forward port. Ger-
sen's haste to leave Alphanor had puzzled her. She had credited a
sudden determination to alter his way of life; now she was not so
sure. She opened Handbook to the Planets, read the article on Sar-
kovy. Gersen stood by the pharmaceutical cabinet, compounding a
conditioner against possibly noxious serums, proteins, viruses and
bacilli of Sarkovy.

'Interchange an institution of the planet Sasani in the near-Beyond, functioning as a
detention depot and broker between kidnappers and those who sought to pay ransom.
Gersen had swindled Interchange of ten billion SVU (Standard Value Units).

THE PALACE OF LOVE 343

Alusz Iphigenia asked, "Why are you going to this planet? It
seems an evil place."

"I want to talk to someone," said Gersen in a measured voice.
He handed her a cup. "Drink this; you'll avoid itches and scabs."

Wordlessly Alusz Iphigenia drank the mixture.

There were no formalities at Sarkovy; Gersen landed at Paing
Space-port, as close as possible to the depot, a timber structure
roofed with varnished reeds. A clerk registered them as visitors, and
they were immediately set upon by a dozen men wearing dark
brown gowns with bristling fur collars and cuffs. Each protested
himself the foremost guide and sponsor of the region.

"What do you wish, my sir, my lady? A visit to the village? I
am a hetman—"

"If it's the sport of harbite you seek, I know of three excellent
beasts in furious condition."

"Poisons by the dram or pound; I guarantee freshness and pre-
cision. Trust me for your poisons!"

Gersen looked from face to face. Several of the men were tat-
tooed on the cheek with a dark blue Maltese cross; one wore two
such tattoos. "Your name?"

"I am Edelrod. I know the lore of Sarkovy, marvelous tales. I
can make your visit a joy, a period of edification—"

Gersen said, "I see you are a venefice of the undermaster cat-
egory."

"True." Edelrod seemed a trifle crestfallen. "You have visited
our world before?"

"For a brief period."

"You come to replenish your chest? Rest assured, sir, I can
guide you to fascinating bargains, absolute novelties."

Gersen took Edelrod aside. "You are acquainted with Master
Kakarsis Asrn?"

"I know him. He is condemned to cooperation."

"He is not dead then?"

"He dies tomorrow night."

"Good," said Gersen. "I will hire you then, provided that your
rates are not exorbitant."

"I lend my knowledge, my friendship, my protection: all for
fifty SVU per day."

"Agreed. Well then, our first need is conveyance to the inn."

344 I HE DFMON PRINCES

"At once" Edelrod summoned a dilapidated carryall, they
bumped and jounced through Pamg to the Poison Inn, a three-
stoned structure with walls of poles, a twelve-coned roof sheathed
with green glass tiles There was a barbaric grandeur to the great
lobby Rugs woven in bold patterns of black, white and scarlet cov-
ered the floor, along the wall were pilasters carved to represent
attenuated hankap with gaunt sagging faces, vines with green leaves
and purple flowers hung from the roof beams Windows thirty feet
high overlooked Gorobundur Steppe, with a black-green swamp to
the west, a dark forest to the east Meals were to be taken in a vast
dining room furnished with tables, chairs and buffets of a dense
black wood To Alusz Iphigenia's relief, the kitchen appeared to be
operated by outworlders, and they were offered a choice of six cui-
sines Alusz Iphigema nevertheless distrusted the food. Tor all we
know it's seasoned with some horrid drug."

Gersen made light of her qualms "They wouldn't waste good
poison on us. I can't guarantee much else This is nomad-style
bread, the little black things are reed-berries, and this is some sort
of stew or goulash " He tasted it. "I've eaten worse."

Alusz Iphigema glumly ate the reed-berries, which had a dank
smoky flavor. "How long do you plan to remain here?" she asked
politely

"Two days or so, provided all goes well "

"Your business of course is your own affair, but I feel a certain
curiosity—"

"There's no mystery. I want information from a man who may
not live long."

"I see " But it was plain that Alusz Iphigenia felt no great in-
terest in Gersen's plans, and she remained in the lobby while Ger-
sen sought out Edelrod

"I would like to speak with Kakarsis Asm Can this be ar-
ranged3"

Edelrod pulled thoughtfully at his long nose "A ticklish matter
He must cooperate with the guild, such men are guarded carefully,
for obvious reasons Of course I can try to make arrangements Is
expense a critical factor3"

"Naturally I expect to pay no more than fifty SVU into the
guild treasury, another fifty to the Guild-master and perhaps twenty
or thirty to you "

Edelrod pursed his lips He was a plump man of uncertain age

THE PALACE OF LOVE 345

with a pelt of soft, heavy black hair "Your largesse is not of the
regal variety The people of Sarkovy respect reckless liberality
above all other virtues "

"If I understand the signs correctly," said Gersen, "I have sur-
prised you by the money I seem willing to spend The amounts I
mentioned are the top limit If you can't arrange matters at these
rates I will inquire of someone else "

"I can only do my best," said Edelrod despondently "Please
wait in the lobby, I will make inquiries."

Gersen went to sit beside Alusz Iphigenia, who pointedly asked
no questions .. Edelrod presently returned with a )ubilant expres-
sion "I have set affairs in motion The cost will be very little more
than the figures you suggested " And he snapped his fingers exul-
tantly

"I have had second thoughts," said Gersen "I don't care to
speak to Master Asm "

Edelrod became agitated "But it is feasible I have approached
the Guild-master'"

"Perhaps on another occasion "

Edelrod made a sour grimace "Foregoing all personal gain, I
might arrange matters for some trifling sum—two hundred SVU
or thereabout"

"The information is of no great value I am leaving tomorrow
for Kadaing, where my old friend Master Venefice Coudirou can
settle everything for me "

Edelrod raised his eyebrows and allowed his eyes to bulge
"Why then, this alters all' You should have mentioned your con-
nection with Coudirou I believe the Guild-master will accept sub-
stantially less than his previous demand "

"You know my top figure," said Gersen.

"Very well," sighed Edelrod "The interview may be conducted
later this afternoon In the meantime what are your wishes^ Would
you care to explore the countryside5 The weather is fine, the woods
are ablaze with flowers, sultnes, pop-barks, there is a well-drained
path "

Alusz Iphigenia, who had been restless, rose to her feet Edelrod
led them along a path which crossed a brackish river and plunged
into the forest.

The vegetation was a typical Sarkovy melange trees, shrubs,
cycads, bubble-shells, grasses of a hundred varieties The high fo-

546 THP DEMON PRINCES

hage was for the most part black and brown, with occasional
splotches of red; below were purples, greens, pale blues. Edelrod
enlivened the stroll with a discussion of various plants beside the
way. He indicated a small gray fungus. "Here is the source oftwi-
tus, an excellent selective poison, fatal only if ingested twice within
a week. It ranks in this respect with mervan, which migrates harm-
lessly to the skin, and becomes a lethal principle only upon exposure
to direct sunlight. I have known persons who fearing mervan kept
to their tents for days on end."

They came to a little clearing. Edelrod looked sharply in all
directions. "I have no overt enemies, but several people have died
here recently . . . Today all seems well. Notice this tree growing to
the side." He pointed to a slender white-barked sapling with round
yellow leaves. "Some call it the coin-tree, others the good-for-
nought. It is completely inoffensive, either as a primary or an op-
erative. You might ingest the whole of it leaves, bark, pith, roots,
and note nothing other than a sluggishness of digestion. Recently
one of our venefices became irritated at such insipidity. He made
an intensive study of the coin-tree, and after several years finally
derived a substance of unusual potency. To be useful it must be
dissolved in methycm and wafted into the air as a fog or a mist,
whence it enters the corpus through the eyes, causing first blind-
ness, then numbness, then complete paralysis. Think of it' From
waste, a useful and effective poison' Is this not a tribute to human
persistence and ingenuity3"

"An impressive accomplishment," said Gersen. Alusz Iphigema
remained silent.

Edelrod went on: "We are frequently asked why we persist in
deriving our poisons from natural sources. Why do we not immure
ourselves in laboratories and synthesize3 The answer is of course
that natural poisons, being initially associated with living tissue, are
the more effective."

"I would suspect the presence of catalyzing impurities in the
natural poisons," Gersen suggested, "rather than metaphysical as-
sociation."

Edelrod held up a minatory finger. "Never scoff at the role of
the mind' Eor instance—let me see—there should be one some-
where near .  Yes. See there—the little reptile."

Under a mottled white and blue leaf rested a small lizardlike

creature.

THE PALACE OF LOW 347

"This is the meng. From one of his organs comes a substance
which can be distributed either as uigar or as furux. The same sub-
stance, mind you' But when sold as uigar and used as such, the
symptoms are spasms, biting off of the tongue and a frothing mad-
ness. When sold and used as furux, the interskeletal cartilage is
dissolved so that the frame goes limp WTiat do you say to that3 Is
that not metaphysics of the most exalted sort3"

"Interesting, certainly . • . Hm . . . What occurs when the sub-
stance is sold and used as, say for the sake of argument, water^"

Edelrod pulled at his nose. "An interesting experiment. I won-
der . .. But the proposal encases a fallacy. W^ho would buy and ad-
minister an expensive vial of water?"

"The suggestion was poorly thought out," admitted Gersen.

Edelrod made an indulgent gesture. "Not at all, not at all. From
|ust such apparent folly come notable variations. The graybloom,
for instance. Who would have ever suspected the virtue to be de-
rived from its perfume, until Grand Master Strubal turned it upside
down and left it in the dark for a month, whereupon it became tox
meratis? One waft will kill; the venefice need merely walk past his
subject."

Alusz Iphigema stooped to pick up a small rounded pebble of
quartz. "WTiat horrible substance do you produce from this stone3"

Edelrod looked away, half embarrassed. "None whatever. At
least none to my knowledge. Though we use such pebbles in ball
mills to crush photis seed to flour. Never fear; your pebble is not
so useless as it seems."

Alusz Iphigema tossed it away in disgust. "Unbelievable," she
muttered, "that people should dedicate themselves to such activity."

Edelrod shrugged. "We serve a useful purpose, everyone oc-
casionally needs poison. We are capable of this excellence and we
feel duty-bound to pursue it." He inspected Alusz Iphigema with
curiosity. "Have you no skills of your own3"

"No."

"At the hotel you may buy a booklet entitled Primer to the An
of Preparing and Using Poisons, and I believe it includes a small kit
of some basic alkaloids. If you are interested m developing a skill—"

"Thank you. I have no such inclination."

Edelrod made a polite gesture, as if to acknowledge that each
must steer his own course through life.

They continued; in due course the forest thinned, the path

IW DKMON PRINCES

turned out upon the steppe. At the edge of town stood a long eight-
coned structure of iron-bound timber with ten iron doors facing to
the steppe Across an area of packed clay were hundreds of small
booths and shops. "The caravanserai," explained Edelrod. "This is
the seat of the Comenance, from which the )udgmencs come." He
pointed to a platform at the top of the caravanserai, where four
caged men gazed disconsolately down into the square. "To the t-ar
right stands Kakarsis Asm."

"Can I speak to him now3" Gersen asked.

"I will go to inquire. Wait, if you please, at this booth, where
my grandmother will prepare you a fine tea."

Alusz Iphigenia looked dubiously at the appurtenances of the
booth. On a plank a brass urn bubbled furiously, flanked by brass
drinking pots. Shelves displayed a hundred glass jars containing
herbs, roots and substances impossible to identify.

"All clean and salubrious," Edelrod declared cheerfully. "Rest
and invigorate yourselves. 1 will return with good news."

Alusz Iphigenia wordlessly seated herself on a bench. After con-
sultation with Edelrod's grandmother, Gersen procured pots of
mildly stimulating verbena tea. They watched a caravan trundling
in from the steppe, first an eight-wheeled wagon carrying the
shrine, the cabin of the hetman and brass tanks of water. Behind
were several dozen other wagons—some large, some small—motors
rumbling, clacking, whining. All carried astounding superstructures
at the very peak of which were tented living quarters, with goods
and bales loaded below. Some men rode motorcycles, others
lounged on the wagons, which were driven by old women or slaves
of the tribe. Children ran behind, rode bicycles or dangled peril-
ously from the understructure.

The caravan halted; women, children arranged tripods, hung
up cauldrons and began to prepare a meal, while slaves unloaded
goods from the wagons: furs, rare woods, bundles of herbs, chunks
of agate and opal, caged birds, tubs of raw gums and poisons, and
two captive hankap, the near-intelligent creature which furnished
the Sarkov sport known as harbite Meanwhile the men of the tribe
gathered in a quiet suspicious cluster to drink tea and glower toward
the ba/aar where they expected to be cheated.

Edelrod stepped briskly forth from the caravanserai. Gersen
grumbled to Alusz Iphigenia, "Here he comes with six reasons wh)
the business will cost more money."

THE PALACE OF LOVE

Edelrod procured an infusion of scorched a)ol from his grand-
mother. He sat down and silently began to sip.

"Well?" asked Gersen.

Edelrod sighed, shook his head. "My arrangements have been
for naught. The Chief Monitor declares the interview impossible."

"Just as well," said Gersen. "I only wished to bring him the
condolences ofViole Falushe. It will make small difference one way
or another. WTiere will he cooperate?"

"At the Poison Inn, as diversion for the Convenance, which
currently is in residence at Pamg."

"Perhaps I will have a chance to utter a few words there, or at
least make a reassuring signal," said Gersen. "Well, then, let us
look through the bazaar."

Subdued and depressed, Edelrod took them through the bazaar.
Only in the Poison Quarter did he recover his animation, and
pointed here and there to bargains and especially noteworthy prep-
arations. He seized a ball of gray wax. "Observe this deadly mate-
rial. I handle it without fear: I am immunized^ But if you were to
rub it on an article belonging to your enemy—his comb, his ear-
scraper—he is as good as gone. Another application is to spread a
film over your identification papers. Then, should an overofficious
administrator hector you, he is contaminated and pays for his in-
solence."

Alusz Iphigenia took a deep breath. "How does a Sarkoy survive
to become an adult?"

"Two words," Edelrod replied, holding two fingers didactically
high. "Caution, immunity. I am immune to thirty poisons. I carry
indicators and alarms to warn ofcluthe, meratis, black-tox and vole.
I observe the most punctilious caution in eating, smelling, donning
garments, bedding with a strange female. Ha—ha. Here is a favorite
trick, and the ovenmpulsive lecher finds himself in difficulties. But
to go on. I am cautious in these situations and also in passing down-
wind of a covert, even though I have no fear of meratis. Caution
has become second nature. If I suspect that I have or am about to
have an enemy, I cultivate his friendship and poison him to diminish
the risk."

"You will live to become an old man," said Gersen.

Edelrod reverently made a circular motion with his two hands,
moving in opposite directions, to symbolize a halting ofGodogma's
wheel. "Let us hope so. And here"—he pointed to a bulb contain-

THE D£ MON PRINCES

ing white powder—"cluthe Useful, versatile, effective If you need
poison, buy here "

"I have cluthe," said Gersen, "though it may be somewhat
stale "

"Discard it, or you will be disappointed," Edelrod told him
earnestly "It will merely provoke suppurating sores and gangrene "
He turned to the dealer "Your stock is fresh7"

"Fresh indeed, fresh as the morning dew

After a bout of heated bargaining, Gersen bought a small casket
of cluthe Alusz Iphigema stood with her back turned, her head at
an angle of angry disapproval

"Now then," said Gersen, "back to the hotel "

Edelrod said tentatively, "A thought occurs to me Were I to
bring the monitors a cask of high-quality tea, at a cost of perhaps
twenty or thirty SVU, they might well allow your visit "

"By all means Make them such a gift "

"You will naturally reimburse me7"

"What7 When you already have been conceded a lavish hun-
dred and twenty SVU7"

Edelrod made an impatient gesture "You do not realize the
difficulties'" He snapped his fingers petulantly "Very well So be
it My friendship for you impels me to sacrifice Where is the
money7"

"Here is fifty The remainder after the interview "

"What of the lady7 WTiere will she wait3"

"Not here in the bazaar. The nomads might consider her part
of the merchandise."

Edelrod chuckled "Such events have been known But have no
apprehension' She is under the aegis of Submaster Iddel Edelrod.
She is as safe as a two-hundred-ton statue of a dead dog "

But Gersen insisted on hiring a conveyance and sending Alusz
Iphigema back to the Poison Inn Edelrod then conducted Gersen
into the caravanserai, through a set of halls, up to the roof Six
monitors hulked on stools beside a bubbling cauldron Hitching fur
collars up around their necks, they glanced incuriously at Edelrod,
then turning back to their tea, muttered among themseKes evi-
dently a satiric observation, for they all gave hoarse caws of amuse-
ment

Gersen approached the cage of Kakarsis Asm, one-time Master
Venehce, now condemned to cooperation Asm was somewhat taller

THE PALACE OF LOVE 351

than the average Sarkoy, though still bulky through chest and belly.
His head was long, narrow in the forehead, broad at the cheek-
bones, heavy at the mouth A thick black pelt grew low down his
forehead, his lank black mustache drooped dispiritedly. In keeping
with his criminal status, he wore no shoes, and his feet, tattooed
with wheels in the traditional fashion, were mottled pink and blue
with cold

Edelrod addressed Asm in a peremptory voice "Villainous dog,
here is a nobleman from off-world who deigns to inspect you Be
on your best behavior "

Asm raised his hand as if he were casting poison, Edelrod
jumped back with a startled oath, and Asm laughed. Gersen turned
to Edelrod "Wait to the side I wish to speak privately to Master
Asm."

Edelrod grudgingly withdrew. Asm, seating himself on a stool,
inspected Gersen with eyes like flints. "I have paid to speak to you,"
said Gersen "In fact I come from Alphanor for this purpose "

Asm made no response.

"Has Viole Falushe made representations on your behalf"
asked Gersen

A gleam shone behind the near opacity of the eyes "You come
from Viole Falushe3"

"No "

The gleam died.

"It would seem," said Gersen, "that having involved you in
wrongdoing, he should likewise be here, sentenced to cooperation "

"There's an agreeable thought," said Asm

"I don't fully understand the crime You were caged and sen-
tenced because you sold to a notorious cnnnnaP"

Asm snorted, spat into a corner of the cage "How should I
recognize him as Viole Falushe7 I knew him long ago under a dif-
ferent name He has changed, he is unrecognizable "

"WTly then should you be sentenced to cooperation3"

"The decretal was clear enough The Guild-master had pre-
pared a special price schedule for Viole Falushe All unaware I sold
him two drams of patziglop and a dram of vole, little enough, but
there can be no remission. The Guild-master has long been my
enemy, though he has never dared to test my poisons " He spat
again, glanced reflectively sidewise at Gersen. "W^hy should I talk
with you7"

I HI- DLMON PRINCES

352

"Because I will undertake that you die by alpha or beta, rather
than cooperation."

Asm gave a sad sardonic snort of regret. "With Guild-master
Peti-us on the scene7 Small chance. He wishes to test his new py-

rong.

"Guild-master Petrus can be persuaded. By money if no other

means.

Asm shrugged "I expect little, but what then7 I lose nothing
by talk. What do you wish to know?"

"I take it Viole Falushe has departed the planet7"

"Long ago."

"Where and when did you know him previously5"

"Long ago. How many years? Twenty7 Thirty7 A long time.
He was then a slaver, but very young. No more than a boy. Indeed,
he was the youngest slaver I had yet known. He arrived in a rickety
old ship bulging with young girls, all fearful of his wrath. Would
you believe it7 They were happy to be sold to me'" Asm shook his
head in wonder. "A terrible young man' He quaked and quivered
with the force of his passions Today he is different. The passion
is still terrible, but Viole Falushe has grown to surround it. He is
a different man."

"WTiat was his name when you first knew him7"

Asm shook his head. "It escapes me. I do not know Perhaps I
never knew. He traded two fine girls for money and poison. They
cried with relief to leave the ship The others cried from their ill-
fortune. Ah, what sobbing'" Asm gave his head a wry shake. "Inga
and Dundine were their names. How they would chatter' They
knew the lad well and never tired of reviling him."

"What became of them7 Do they still live?"

"There I am ignorant." Asm )umped to his feet, strode back
and forth, returned as abruptly to his stool. "I was called south to
Sogmere. I sold the girls. There was little depreciation, I had only
used them two years."

"Who bought them?"

"It was Gascovne the Wholesaler, of Murchison's Star. I can
tell no more, for this is all I know."

"And where was the first home of the girls7"

"Earth "

Gersen ruminated J moment. "And Viole Falushe as he is
now—what is his description7"

THE PALACE OF LOVE

"He is a tall man, well-favored. His hair is dark. He has no
remarkable or distinguishing features. I knew him when his mad-
ness was rampant, when it altered the look of his face. Now he is
careful and polite. He speaks softly. He smiles. His condition might
never be known, unless, like me, you had known him as a lad."

Gersen asked further questions, Asm was unable to augment his
remarks. Gersen prepared to depart Asm, feigning indifference,
said, "You intend to speak to Guild-master Petrus on my behalf?"

"Yes."

Asm thought a moment. He opened his mouth and spoke, as if
it were an effort. "Be careful. He is a positive man, and baleful. If
you thrust at him over-strongly, he will poison you."

"Thank you," said Gersen. "I hope to be able to help you." He
signaled Edelrod, who had watched with poorly disguised curiosity.
"Take me to Guild-master Petrus."

Edelrod led Gersen down into the caravanserai, through one
crooked hall after another, finally to a room hung with yellow silk.
On a cushion sat a thin man with intricately tattooed cheeks ex-
amining a row of small flagons "An outworld gentleman to speak
to the Guild-master," said Edelrod.

The thin man hopped erect, approached Gersen, carefully
smelled his hands, patted his garments, inspected his tongue and
teeth. "One moment." He disappeared behind the silks. Presently
he returned to signal Gersen. "This way, if you will "

Gersen entered a high window less chamber—so high indeed
the ceiling could not be seen. Four spherical lamps hanging low on
long chains threw an oily yellow light On the table the ubiquitous
brass cauldron bubbled. The air was heavy with warmth and odor.
must, fabric, leather, sweat, the sharp dry exhalation of herbs.
Guild-master Petrus had been sleeping. Now he was awake, and
leaning forward from his couch, tossed herbs into a pot and pre-
pared an infusion. He was an old man with bright black eyes, a
pallid skin. He greeted Gersen with a quick nod.

Gersen said, "You're an old man."

"I have one hundred and ninety-four Earth years."

"How much longer do you expect to live7"

"Six years at least, or so I hope. Many men wish me poisoned."

"On the roof four criminals await execution Are all to coop-
erate7"

IIIL DI MON FRINCFS

"'Ml T have a dozen new poisons to test, as have other Masters
ot the Guild "

"I have assured Asm that he will die by alpha or beta "

"You must have the gift of perceiving miracles I myself am a
skeptic The arrogance ot- Asm has long been a blemish upon the
region He now must cooperate with the Guild Standards Com-
mittee "

Gersen eventually paid 42') SVU that Asm might die by alpha

Edelrod, somewhat sulky, met Gersen in the hall 1 hey set orf
through Paing by streets lined with tall timber huts on stilts, the
facade of each hut constructed to represent a visage doleful, sat-
urnine or astounded, and so the} returned to the Poison Inn

Alus/ Iphigenia was in her room, Gersen decided not to disturb
her He bathed in a wooden vat, went down to the lobby to look
out across the steppe Dusk blurred the landscape, the wheeled
poles were black intricate silhouettes

Gersen ordered a pot of tea and with nothing better to do
reflected on the condition of his life    By ordinary standards he
was a fortunate man, wealthy beyond the grasp of the mind What
of the future2 Suppose that by some freak of fortune he was able
to achieve his goal, with the five Demon Princes destroyed, what
then2 Could he integrate himself into the normal flow of existence3
Or had he become so distorted that always, to the end of his days,
he must seek out men to destroy Gersen gave a gnm chuckle
Unlikely that he would survive to confront the problem In the
meantime, what had he learned from Asm2 Only that twenty or
thirty years ago a young madman had sold a pair of girls, Dundme
and Inga, to Asm, who later sold them to Gascoyne the Wholesaler
of Vlurchison's Star Next to nothing   Except that Dundine and
Inga knew their kidnaper well and "never ceased to revile him "

Alusz Iphigenia appeared She ignored Gersen and went to look
out over the dark steppe, where now one or two far lights flickered
In the sk\ appeared a purple glow, a bank of white lights, and a
packet of the Robarth Hercules Line descended to the field Alus/
Iphigenia watched a row moments, then turned and came to sit by
Gersen, holding herself stiffly erect She shook her head at his offer
of tea "How long must vou stay here2"

"Only until tomorrow night "

"Whv may not we leave now2 \ou have conrerred with your
friend, you have bought vour poison "

THL PAL4C E OF LOVE 355

As if in response to her question Edelrod appeared bowing in
absurd punctilio Tonight he wore a long gown of green cloth, a
tall fur cap "Health and immunity'" he greeted them "Do you
attend the poisonings2 1 hey are scheduled for the hotel rotunda,
for the education of gathered notables "

"Tonight I thought they were tomorrow night "

"The date has been set forward, by a whirl of Crodogma's
wheel 'I omght the rogues must cooperate "

"We will be there," said Gersen

Alusz Iphigenia rose swiftly to her feet, departed the lobby

Gersen found her in her room "Are you angry with me2"

"Not angry I am utterly bewildered I can't understand your
morbid fascination with these horrible people    Death   "

"That isn't a fair statement The people live by a system dif-
ferent from ours I am interested I live by my ability to avoid death
I might learn something to help me survive "

"But you don't need this knowledge' You have a vast fortune,
ten billion SVU in cash—"

"No longer "

"No longer2 Have you lost it2"

"The vast fortune is no longer cash There now exists an anon-
ymous corporation of which I own the stock The money yields a
daily income, a million SVU more or less Still a vast fortune, of
course "

"W^ith all this money you need not involve yourself Hire mur-
derers to do your work Hire the disgusting Edelrod For money
he would poison his mother'"

"Any murderer I could hire could be hired to murder me But
there is another consideration I don't care for notoriety or public-
ity To be effective I must be unknown, a nonentity I fear I have
already been noted by the Institute, and this would be a great mis-
fortune "

Alusz Iphigenia spoke with great earnestness "You are ob-
sessed You are a monomaniac' This concentration on lethahty,
effectiveness, masters you completely'"

Gersen forbore to point out that this same effectiveness and
lethahtv had preserved her existence on several occasions

"You have other capacities," Alusz Iphigenia went on "You
have sensibilities, even frivolities You never indulge them You are

THE DEMON PRINCKS

356

spiritually starved, crippled. You think only of power, death, poison,
devious plots, revenge!"

Gerscn was startled by her vehemence. The accusations were
distorted far enough of the mark that they carried no sting; still if
she believed them, what a monster he must appear in her eyes!
Soothingly he replied, "What you say simply isn't true. Maybe
some day you'll know this, maybe some day. . ." Gersen's voice
dwindled, in the face of the angry shake Alusz Iphigenia gave her
head which sent her gold-brown hair flying. Additionally, what he
was about to sav, now that he considered it, seemed somewhat im-
probable, even absurd: talk of relaxation, a home, a family.

Alusz Iphigenia spoke in a cold voice: "What then of me?"

"I have no right to rule your life or disturb you," said Gersen.
"You have only one life; you must make the best of it."

Alusz Tphigenia rose to her feet, calm and composed. Sadly
Gersen went to his own room. Still, in a sense, the quarrel was
welcome. Perhaps, motivated subconsciously, he had brought her
to Sarkovy to indicate the direction his life must go, to give her the
option of detaching herself.

Somewhat to his surprise she appeared for dinner, though grim
and pale.

The dining room was crowded; everywhere were the fur collars
and black-furred pates of Sarkoy notables. Tonight an unusual
number of women were present, in their peculiar purple, brown
and black gowns, weighed down with necklaces, bangles, hair-pieces
of turquoise and jade. In one corner sat a large group of tourists
from the excursion ship which had put into Paing earlier in the
-the occasion, Gersen decided, for the advancement of the

evenms

poisonings. By their costumes the tourists were from one of the
Concourse planets—Alphanor, to judge by their beige and gray skin
toning. At Gersen's elbow appeared Edelrod. "Aha, Lord Gersen!
A pleasure to see you here. May I join you and your lovely lady? I
may be able to assist for the poisonings." Taking Gersen's assent
for granted he seated himself at the table. "Tonight a banquet of
six courses, Sarkoy style. I recommend that you attempt it. You are
here on our wonderful planet, you must enjoy it to the hilt. I am
pleased to be present. All goes well tonight, I trust?"

"Quite well, thank you."

Edelrod spoke correctly—tonight only the Sarkoy cuisine was
offered. The first course was served: a pale green broth of swamp

THE PALACE OF LOVE 357

produce, rather bitter, accompanied by stalks of deep-fried reed, a
salad of celery root, whortle-berry and shreds of pungent black
bark. As they ate, porters carried four posts out upon the terrace,
set them upright into sockets.

The second course appeared: a ragout of pale meat in coral
sauce, heavily seasoned, with side dishes of jellied plantain, crystal-
lized jaoic, a local fruit.

Alusz Iphigenia ate without great appetite; Gersen felt no hun-
ger whatever.

The third course was set before them: collops of perfumed paste
on disks of chilled melon, accompanied by what appeared to be
small mollusks in spiced oil. As the platters were being removed in
preparation for the fourth course, the criminals were led out on the
terrace, where they stood blinking into the lights. They were naked
except for heavy padded collars, bulky mattress-like gloves, a tight
girdle around the waist. Each was attached to a post by six feet of
chain.

Alusz Iphigenia looked them over with se-eming indifference.
"These are the criminals? WTiat are their offenses?"

Edelrod looked up from the battery of bowls which had just
been set before him, containing a hash of crushed insects and cereal,
pickles, a plum-colored conserve and pellets of fried meat. Appre-
hending the question he glanced at the criminals. "There is Asm
who betrayed the guild. Next is a nomad who committed a sexual
offense."

Alusz Iphigenia laughed incredulously. "On Sarkoy is this pos-
sible?"

Edelrod gave her a look of pained reproach. "The third threw
sour milk on his grandmother. The fourth dishonored a fetish."

Alusz Iphigenia wore a puzzled expression. She glanced at Ger-
sen to learn whether or not Edelrod were serious.

Gersen said, "The offenses seem arbitrary, but some of our
restraints seem strange to the folk of Sarkovy."

"Precisely the case," stated Edelrod. "Every planet has its own
rules. I am appalled at the insensitivity of certain folk who come
here from other worlds. Avarice is a typical offense. On Sarkovy
one man's property is the property of all. Money? It is distributed
without a second thought. Unstinting generosity excites approval!"
And he looked expectantly toward Gersen, who only smiled.

Alusz Iphigenia had let the fourth course go untasted. The fifth

358 THE DEMON PRINCES

course was served: a wafer of baked pastry on which were arranged
three large steamed centipedes with a garnish of a chopped blue
vegetable and a dish of glossy-black paste, which gave off an acrid
aromatic odor. Alusz Iphigenia rose to her feet, departed the dining
room. Edelrod looked after her solicitouslv. "She is not well?"

"I fear not."

"A pity." Edelrod attacked his food with gusto. "The meal is
by no means at its end."

To the terrace came four undermasters from the guild and a
Master Venefice, to direct proceedings and make analytic com-
ments.

All seemed in readiness for the poisonings. The undermasters
set a tabouret in front of each of the criminals, with the poisons
arranged in white saucers.

"The first subject," called forth the Master Venefice, "is one
Kakarsis Asm. In requital for manipulations deleterious to the guild,
he has agreed to test a variation of that activant known as 'alpha.'
When ingested orally, alpha almost instantly shocks the main spinal
ganglion. Tonight we test alpha in a new solvent, which may well
result in the most rapid lethality yet discovered by man. Criminal
Asm, cooperate, if you please."

Kakarsis Asm rolled his eyes to right and left. The undermaster
stepped forward; Kakarsis Asm opened his mouth, gulped the dose
and a second or two later was dead.

"Amazing!" declared Edelrod. "Something new every week."

The executions proceeded, the Master Venefice supplying in-
formative details. The sexual offender tried to kick poison into the
undermaster's face and was reprimanded; otherwise the poisonings
proceeded smoothly. The sixth course, an elaborate salad, was fol-
lowed by teas, infusions and trays of sweetmeats, and the banquet
was at an end.

Gersen slowly went up to the suite. Alusz Iphigenia had packed
her belongings. Gersen stood by the door, puzzled by a sudden
gleam of panic in Alusz Iphigenia's eyes, unaware that against the
white woodwork he appeared a dark sinister shape.

Alusz Iphigenia spoke in a breathless rush, "The excursion ship
is returning to Alphanor. 1 have booked passage. We must go our
own ways."

Gersen was silent for a moment. Then he said: "There is
money in your bank account. I'll see that more is paid into it, as

is

THE PALACE OF LOVE

359

much as you'll ever need ... If an emergency arises, if there are
inadequate funds, notify the bank manager. He'll make the neces-
sary arrangements."

Alusz Iphigenia said nothing. Gersen went to the door. "Should
you ever need help . . ."

Alusz Iphigenia gave a short nod. "I'll remember."

"Good-bye then,"

"Good-bye."

Gersen went to his own room, where he lay on his bed, hands
behind his head. So ended a pleasant passage in his life. Never
again, he told himself, never would he involve a woman with the
dark necessities of his life: especially one so honorable and generous
and kind . . .

Early in the morning the Robarth-Hercules packet departed
with Alusz Iphigenia aboard. Gersen went to the space port, signed
the exit register, paid a departure tax, pressed a gratuity upon Edel-
rod and departed Sarkovy.

3

From Handbook to the Planets; 348th edition. 1525:

ALOYSIUS: Sixth planet to Vega. Planetary constants:

diameter—7340 miles; sidereal day—19.8 hours; mass—
.86;...

Aloysius with its sister planets, Boniface and Cuth-
bert, were the first worlds to be intensively colonized
from Earth. Aloysius hence presents aspects of consid-
erable antiquity, the more so that the first settlers, a
dynamic group of Conservationists, refused to build
structures not in harmony with the landscape.

The Conservationists are gone, but their influence
lingers. The pretentious glass towers of Alphanor and
Earth, the concrete of Olliphane, the unbridled confu-
sion which has overtaken the Markab system: these are
nowhere to be seen.

The axis ofAJovsius is inclined at an angle of 31.7
degrees to its plane of orbit; hence, there are seasonal
fluctuations of notable seventy, mollified somewhat by
a dense atmosphere. There are nine continents. Dorgan
is the largest, with New Wexford its chief city. Owing
to a calculated policy of low taxes and favorable regu-
lations, New Wexford has long functioned as an im-
portant financial center, with an influence far in excess
of its population.

The autochthonous flora and fauna are not partic-
ularly noteworthy. Through intensive effort by the
original settlers, terrestrial trees and shrubs are wide-

THE PALACE OF LOVE

spread, the conifers especially finding a hospitable en-
vironment.

Landing formalities at Aloysius were as rigorous as those of Sar-
kovy were lax. At a distance of a million miles, the "first shell,"
Gersen announced his intention to land, identified himself and his
ship, gave references, explained the reasons for his visit, and was
allowed to approach the "second shell" at a distance of a half-
million miles. Here he waited while his application was studied, his
references checked. He was then ordered down into the "third
shell," a hundred thousand miles above the planet, and here, after
a brief delay, he was given landing clearance. The formalities were
irksome, but not to be avoided. Had Gersen neglected to halt at
the first shell, weapons would have been trained on his ship. Had
he failed to heed the second shell a Thribolt gun would have fired
a salvo of adhesive-paper disks at his ship. Had he then failed to
halt, he and his ship would have been destroyed.*

Gersen complied with all necessary regulations, received clear-
ance and landed at the Dorgan Central Spaceport.

New Wexford lay twenty miles north, a city of crooked streets,
steep hills and old buildings of almost medieval aspect. The banks,
brokerage houses, exchanges occupied the center of the city, with
hotels, shops and agencies on the surrounding hills, and some of
the finest private homes in the Oikumene scattered about the sur-
rounding countryside.

Gersen checked into the vast Congreve Hotel, bought news-

*The Thnholt gun shoots a Jarnell-puwered pru)ectile toward its target \ quest-needle
protrudes a hundred and sixty feet ahead of the pro)ecnle, at the so-called preliminary roil
section of the intersplit, and is in tenuous contact with undisturbed space Upon encoun-
tering matter, the quest-needle disengages the intersplit and triggers its charge either
adhesive paper disks or high explosives In effect the Thnbolt gun is an instantaneous
weapon over last distances, its effectiveness limited only by the accuracy of the aiming
and launching techniques, since once in flight the pro)ectile cannot change direction

On every technically competent world, methods of guiding the Thnholt pro|cctile
by automatic sensors are under intensive study, and have been since the development of
the original weapon The most promising system is to fi\ upon the distance of the target
by conventional radar, drive the pru]ectile by mtersplit for a very brief period, in order to
bring it into space near the target, upon which it then Likes a new fix I liners of great
delicacy and dependability are necessary, together with the utmost discretion on the part
of the launchers, for there is nothing to prevent the pro[ectile, once it leaves the intersplit,
from fixing upon a new target which inconveniently happens to be cruising close at hand
None of the secondary or tertiary systems are considered trustworthy and are used only
under special circumstances

niL DI-MON PRINCFS

362

papers, ate a placid lunch. The life of the city flowed past him:

mercantilists in their consciously archaic garb, aristocrats from
Boniface, anxious only to return, occasional!) a citizen ofCuthhert,
conspicuous for the eccentric flair of his garments and his glossy
depilated head Farth-folk at the Congreve could be identified by
somber garments and an indefinable self-assurance—a quality the
citi/.ens of the outer worlds found exasperating no less than the
geocentric term "outer worlds" itself

Gersen relaxed. The atmosphere of New Wexford was sooth-
ing, everywhere were reassuring evidences of solidity, good-living,
law and order, he liked the steep streets, the stone and iron build-
ings, which now, after more than a thousand years, could no longer
be denigrated as "self-conscious quaintene," the Cuthbertian epi-
thet.

Gersen had paid one previous visit to New Wexford. Two
weeks of discreet investigation had then pointed to one Jehan Ad-
dels of Trans-Space Investment Corporation as an economist of
extraordinary resource and acumen. Gersen had called Addels by
public telephone, blanking his own image. Addels was a youngish
man, slight of body, with a long quizzical face, a balding scalp which
he had not troubled to have rehaired. "Addels here."

"I am someone you don't know; my name is irrelevant. I believe
you are employed by Trans-Space?"

"Correct."

"How^ much do they pay you2"

"Sixty thousand, plus some fringe benefits," Addels replied
without embarrassment, though he was talking to a stranger over a

blank screen. "Why'-"

"I'd like to hire you in a similar capacity at a hundred thousand,
with a monthly raise of a thousand, and a bonus even' five years of,
say, a inillion SVU."

"The terms are appealing," Addels replied dryly. "Who are
you?"

"I prefer to remain anonymous," said Gersen. "If you insist,
I'll meet you and explain as much as you like Essentially, what you
need to know is that I am not a criminal, the money I want you to
handle has not been acquired contrary to the laws of New Wex-
ford "

"Hm. How much is the sum in question7 What securities are
represented7"

THE PAL4CE OF LOVT. 363

"Ten billion SVU, m cash "

"Whisht'" breathed Jehan Addels. "WTwre—" a flicker of an-
noyance crossed his face and he broke off his sentence. Jehan Addels
liked to think of himself as imperturbable. He continued. "This is
an extraordinary amount of money. I can't believe it was accumu-
lated by conventional means."

"I haven't said this. The money came from Beyond, where con-
ventions don't exist."

Addels smiled thinly. "And no laws. Hence, no legality. And no
criminals. Still, the source of your funds is no concern of mine.
Exactly what do you wish done7"

"I want the money invested to yield income, but I want to call
no attention to the money. 1 want no rumors, no publicity. I want
the money invested without causing even a ripple of notice."

"Difficult." Addels reflected a moment. "Not impossible, how-
ever—if the program is properly planned."

"This is at your discretion. You will control the entire opera-
tion, sub)ect to an occasional suggestion from me. Naturally you
may hire a staff, though the staff is to be told nothing."

"Small problem there. I know nothing."

"You are agreeable to my terms?"

"Certainly, if the whole business is not a hoax. I can't avoid
becoming an extremely wealthy man, both from my salary and from
investments 1 can make collateral with yours. But I will believe it
when I see the money. Presumably it is not counterfeit."

"Your own fake-meter will assure you of this."

"Ten billion SVU," mused Addels. "An enormous sum, which
might well be expected to tempt even an honest man. How do you
know I won't embezzle from you?"

"I understand that you are not only a cautious man, but a man
of discipline. Also, you should have no inducement to embezzle.
Otherwise I have no safeguards."

Jehan Addels gave his head a crisp nod. "W^here is the money3"

"It will be delivered wherever you like. Or you can come to the
Congreve Hotel and pick it up yourself."

"The situation is not all that simple. Suppose I should die over-
night3 How would you recover your money2 If you should die, how
would I learn of the fact? What disposition would I then make of
this \ast sum, presuming that it exists2"

"Come to Suite Six-fifty at the Congreve Hotel. I'll give you

364 THE DEMON PRINCES

the money and we'll make arrangements for any immediate contin-
gencies."

Jehan Addels appeared in Gersen's suite half an hour later. He
inspected the money, which was contained in two large cases,
checked a few of the notes with his fake-meter, and shook his head
in awe. "This is a tremendous responsibility. I could give you a
receipt, but it would be a meaningless formality."

"Take the money," said Gersen. "Tomorrow, include in your
will an instruction that in the event of your death, the money is
mine. If I die, or do not communicate with you within a year, use
the income for charitable purposes. But I expect to be back in New
Wexford within two or three months. Hereafter, I will communi-
cate with you only by telephone, using the name Henry Lucas."

"Very well," said Addels rather heavily. "I think this takes care
of all contingencies."

"Remember, absolute discretion! Not even your family must
know the details of your new occupation."

"As you wish."

The next morning Gersen had departed Aloysius for Alphanor.

Now, three months later, he was back in New Wexford, again at
the Congreve Hotel.

Going to a public telephone, blanking the screen as before, he
tapped out Jean Addels' call-number. The screen burst into a pat-
tern of green leaves and pink briar roses. A female voice spoke:

"Braemar Investment Company."

"Mr. Henry Lucas to speak to Mr. Addels."

"Thank you."

Addels' face appeared on the screen. "Addels."

"This is Henry Lucas."

Addels leaned back in his chair. "I am happy—and I may say,
relieved—to hear from you."

"The line is clear?"

Addels checked his anti-eavesdrop meter and blinker light. "All
clear."

"How are matters progressing?"

"Well enough." Addels proceeded to describe his arrange-
ments. He had paid the cash into ten numbered accounts in as many
banks, five in New Wexford, five on Earth, and was gradually con-
verting the cash into income-producing investments, using enor-

THE PALACE OF LOVE 365

mous delicacy to avoid sending tremors along the sandpapered
nerves of the financial world.

"I had not comprehended the magnitude of the job when I
undertook it," said Addels. "It is simply staggering! Mind you, I
am not complaining. I could not ask for a more interesting or more
challenging Job. But investing ten billion SVU discreetly is like
jumping into water without getting wet. I am putting together a
staff merely to handle details of investigation and management.
Eventually, for maximum efficiency, I think we will be forced to
become a bank, or perhaps several banks."

"WTiatever is most appropriate," said Gersen. "In the mean-
time, I have a special job for you."

Addels instantly became wary. "And what is this Job?"

"Recently I've been reading that the Radian Publishing Com-
pany, which publishes Cosmopolis, is in financial difficulties. I would
like you to buy control."

Addels pursed his lips. "I can do this without difficulty, of
course. In fact I can buy outright; Radian is oo the verge of bank-
ruptcy. But you should know that as an investment, this is not an
attractive buy. They have been losing money steadily for years,
which of course is why they can be had so easily."

"In this case we will buy as a speculation, and try to put things
right. I have a particular reason for wishing to own Cosmopolis."

Addels hastily disavowed any intent to act counter to Gersen's
wishes. "I merely want you to be under no misapprehensions. I will
start acquiring Radian stock tomorrow."

Murchison's Star, Sagitta 203 in the Star Directory^ lay out in the
galactic plane behind Vega, thirty light-years beyond the Pale. It
was one of a cluster of five varicolored suns: two red dwarfs, a blue-
white dwarf, a peculiar unclassifiable blue-green star of medium size
and a yellow-orange G6, which was Murchison's Star. Murchison,
the single planet, was somewhat smaller than Earth, with a single
huge continent cincturing the world. A searing wind blew dunes
around the equatorial zone; mountainous highlands sloped gradu-
ally to the polar seas. In the mountains lived aborigines, black crea-
tures of unpredictable characteristics: by turns murderously savage,
torpid, hysterical, or cooperative. In the latter mood they served a
useful purpose, supplying dyes and fibers for the tapestries which
were one of Murchison's principal exports. The factories which

366 THE DEMON PRINCES

produced the tapestries were concentrated about the city of Sabra
and employed thousands of female operatives. These were supplied
by a dozen slaving concerns, chief among which was Gascoyne the
wholesaler. By virtue of efficient inventory control Gascoyne was
able to give his customers efficient service at reasonable prices. He
made no effort to compete with the specialty houses, dealt mainly
in Industrial and Agricultural classifications. At Sabra his principal
business was in Industrial F-2 Selecteds: women unprepossessing or
past the first bloom of youth, but warranted to be of good health
and agility, cooperative, diligent and amiable: such were the terms
of Gascoyne's Ten-Point Guarantee.

Sabra, on the shore of the north polar sea, was a drab haphazard
city with a heterogeneous population whose main goal was to earn
sufficient money to go elsewhere. The coastal plain to the south
was studded with hundreds of peculiar volcanic stubs, each crowned
with a bristle of liver-colored vegetation. Sabra's single distinction
was Orban Circus, an open area at the heart of the city centered
on one of these volcanic stubs. The Grand Murchison Hotel oc-
cupied the crest of the stub; around the Circus were the most im-
portant establishments of the planet: Wilhelm's Trade Hotel, the
Tapestry Mart, the depot of Gascoyne the Wholesaler; Odenour's
Technical Academy; Cady's Tavern; the Blue Ape Hotel; the Her-
cules Import Company; warehouse and showroom of the Tapestry
Producers' Cooperative; the Sportsman Supply and Trophy House;

Gambel's Spaceship Sales; the District Victualling Company.

Sabra was a city large enough and wealthy enough to need pro-
tection from raiders and free-hooters, even though, like Brinktown
in another quarter of the Beyond, it fulfilled a service to the folk
who lived beyond the Pale. Thribolt batteries were constantly
manned by members of the City Militia, and ships coming in from
space were regarded with intense suspicion.

Gersen, approaching with circumspection, radioed down to the
spaceport, and was directed into a landing orbit. At the spaceport
he was subjected to interrogation by members of the local De-
weaseling Brigade*, who were reassured by Gersen's Pharaon. Wea-
sels uniformly traveled space in Locater 9Bs; these were the only

*The single interworld organization of Beyond, existing to identity and destroy agents of
the IPCC The IPCC, accepting a contract to locate and destroy a malefactor who had
fled the Oikumene, could implement its commitments only by sending one or more agents
Beyond, where they were known as weasels and considered fair game

THE PALACE OF LOVE 367

ships the IPCC chose to risk Beyond. Gersen for once could afford
to be candid. He stated that he had come to Sabra to locate a
woman brought here twenty or more years before by Gascoyne the
Wholesaler. The Deweaselers, watching the pips and bulbs on their
truth machine, exchanged sardonic glances, amused by this excess
of quixotism, and waved Gersen forth to the freedom of the city.

The time was mid-morning; Gersen registered at the Grand
Murchison Hotel on top of Orban Stub, which was crowded almost
to capacity with tapestry buyers, commercial salesmen from the
Oikumene, sportsmen intent on stalking the Bower Mountain ab-
origines.

Gersen bathed, changed into local costume: scarlet plush pan-
taloons and a black jacket. Descending to the dining room he ate
a lunch of local sea produce: seaweed salad, a dish of local mollusks.
Directly below were the depot and offices of Gascoyne the Whole-
saler: a rambling structure of three stories enclosing a central court-
yard. An enormous pink and blue sign across the facade read:

GASCOYNE'S MART

Select Slaves for Any Purpose

A pair of handsome women and a stalwart man were depicted be-
low. At the bottom of the sign a message read: Gascoyne's 10-Point
Guarantee Is Justly Famous!

Gersen finished his lunch, descended to the circus, crossed to
Gascoyne's Mart. He was lucky enough to find Gascoyne himself
available and was ushered into a private office. Gascoyne was a
handsome well-built man of indeterminate age, with dark curly hair,
a dashing black mustache, expressive eyebrows. His office was sim-
ple and informal, with a bare floor, an old wooden desk, an infor-
mation screen showing evidence of much use. On one wall hung a
plaque with Gascoyne's famous ten-point guarantee limned in gold
leaf and surrounded by scarlet festoons. Gersen explained the pur-
pose of his visit. "About twenty-five years ago, give or take five
years, you visited Sarkovy, where you bought a pair of women from
a certain Kakarsis Asm. Their names were Inga and Dundine. I am
anxious to locate these women; perhaps you would be good enough
to search them out in your records."

"Gladly," said Gascoyne. "I can't say as I recall the circum-
stances, but—" He went to the information bank, worked the knobs

368 THE DEMON PRINCES

and dials a moment, evoking flashes of blue light and a sudden
grinning visage which nickered away. Gascoyne shook his head de-
spondently. "Might as well be a stone for all the use it gives me. I
must have it repaired. . . . Well, we shall see. This way, if you
please." He took Gersen into a back room lined with ledgers. "Sar-
kovy. I go there seldom. A pestilent world, the home of a wicked
race!" He searched his ledgers, one year after another. "This must
be the trip. So long ago! Thirty years. Now, let us look. My, my,
how this old ledger brings back the memories. Good old days is
not just a banality. - . . What were the names again?"

"Inga, Dundine. I don't know their last names."

"No matter. Here they are." He copied numbers upon a slip
of paper, went to another ledger, turned to the numbers in ques-
tion. "They were both sold here on Murchison. Inga went to
Qualag's Factory. You know where that is? Third along the right
bank of the river. Dundine went to Juniper Factory, across the river
from Qualag's. I trust these women were not friends or relatives?
Like any other, my business has its disagreeable aspects. At Qualag's
and Juniper the women live wholesome productive lives, but cer-
tainly they are not pampered. Still, who is in this life?" And raising
his eyebrows, he made a deprecatory gesture around his austere
office.

Gersen gave his head a wry shake of sympathy. He thanked
Gascoyne and departed.

Qualag's Factory was a half-dozen four-story buildings around
a compound. Gersen entered the lobby of the main office, which
was hung with sample tapestries. A pallid male clerk with varnished
blond hair came to inquire his business.

"Gascoyne tells me," said Gersen, "that thirty years ago
Qualag's purchased a female named Inga, on your invoice 10V623.
Can you tell me if this woman is still employed by you?"

The clerk shuffled off to search his records, then went to an
intercom and spoke a few words. Gersen waited. Into the office
came a tall placid-faced woman with heavy arms and legs.

The clerk said petulantly: "Gentleman here wants to know
about Inga, B2-AG95. There's a yellow card on her with two white
clips but I can't find the reference."

"You're looking under Dormitory F. The B2s are all Dorm A."
The woman located the correct reference. "Inga. B2-AG95. Dead.
I remember her very well. An Earth-woman giving herself all style

THE PALACE OF LOVE 369

of airs. Complained constantly of this and that. She came to the
dye works while I was recreation counsellor. 1 remember her well.
She worked in blues and greens, and it put her off; she finally threw
herself into a vat of dusty-orange. That's long ago. . . . My, how
time flies."

Leaving Qualag's, Gersen crossed the river by a bridge and
walked to the Juniper Factory, which was somewhat larger than
Qualag's. The office was similar, though with a brisker atmosphere.

Gersen again put his question, this time in connection with
Dundine. But the clerk was not cooperative and refused to check
the records. "We aren't allowed to give out such information," said
the clerk, looking disdainfully at Gersen from the altitude afforded
him by his position behind the counter.

"Let me discuss the matter with the manager," said Gersen.

"Mr. Plusse owns the factory. If you will be seated I will an-
nounce you." Gersen went to examine a tapestry ten feet wide by
six feet high, representing a flowered field on which stood hundreds
of fanciful birds.

"Mr. Plusse will see you, sir."

Mr. Plusse was a small surly man with a white topknot and eyes
of blue agate. Clearly he had no intention of obliging Gersen or
anyone else. "Sorry, sir. We have our production to consider. Trou-
ble enough with the women as it is. We do our best for them; we
provide good food and recreational facilities, bathe them once a
week. Still it's impossible to keep them satisfied."

"May I ask if the woman still works for you?"

"It makes no difference if she does or not; you would not be
allowed to disturb her."

"If she is here, if she is the woman I am looking for, I'll be
glad to recompense you for any inconvenience."

"Hmf. Just a moment." Mr. Plusse spoke into the intercom.
"Is not there a Dundine in wicker-stitching? What's her current
index? . . . Hmf. . . I see." He returned to Gersen, whom he now
regarded in a thoughtful new light. "A valuable employee. I can't
have her badgered. If you insist on speaking to her, you'll have to
buy her. The price is three thousand SVU."

Without a word Gersen put down the money. Mr. Plusse licked
his small pink mouth. "Hmf." He spoke into the intercom. "W^ith
a minimum of commotion, bring Dundine to this office."

Ten minutes passed, while Mr. Plusse ostentatiously made no-

370 THE DEMON PRINCES

tations on a chart. The door opened, the clerk entered with a large-
bodied woman in a white smock. Her features were big and moist;

her hair was short, mouse-brown, crimped and tied with string.
Wringing her hands apprehensively she stared from Mr Plusse to
Gersen and back again.

"You are leaving our service," said Mr. Plusse in a dry voice.
"This gentleman has bought you."

Dundine looked at Gersen with bright fear. "Oh, what do you
plan to do with me, sir5 I'm useful and well here, I do my work; I
don't want to go out on the back farms; I wouldn't want to do this,
and I'm too old for barge work."

"Nothing like that, Dundine I've paid Mr. Plusse off; you're a
free woman now. You can go back to your home if you like."

Tears sprang into her eyes. "I don't believe it."

"It's true."

"But—why did vou do this5" Dundme's face wavered between
bewilderment, fear and doubt.

"I want to ask you a few questions."

Dundine turned her back, bent her head over her hands.

After a moment Gersen asked, "Is there anything you want to
bring with you5"

"No. Nothing. If I was wealthy I'd take that little tapestry on
the wall, the little girls dancing. I did the wickenng on that tapestry
and I was all that fond of the thing."

"What is the price5" Gersen asked Mr. Plusse.

"That is our Style Nineteen, which is priced at seven hundred
fifty SVU."

Gersen paid 750 SVU and took the tapestry "Come, Dun-
dine," he said shortly. "Best that we start off."

"But my good-byes! My dear friends—"

"Impossible," said Mr. Plusse. "Do you wish to disturb the
other women5"

Dundine sniffed and rubbed her nose. "There's my bonuses I
haven't taken. It's three recreation half-periods. I'd like to give
them to Almenna."

"That can't be done, as you know. We never allow transfer or
bartering of bonus units If you wish, you may use them now, before
your departure."

Dundine looked uncertainly toward Gersen. "Do we have time5

THF PAIALE OF LOIT

It seems a shame to let them go to waste—but 1 suppose it makes
no difference now . . "

They walked along the river road toward the center of town,
with Dundine casting timid glances toward Gersen

"I can't imagine what you want of me," she said tremulously.
"I'm certain I've never known you in my life."

"I'm interested in what you can tell me ofViole Falushe."

"Viole Falushe5 But I know no such person. I can tell you noth-
ing." Dundine stopped short, her knees shaking. "Are you going to
take me back to the factory5"

"No," said Gersen hollowly "I won't take you back." He
looked at her in deep discouragement. "Aren't you the Dundine
who was kidnaped with Inga5"

"Oh yes I'm Dundine. Poor Inga. I've never heard other since
she went to Qualag's. They say it's ever so dreary at Qualag's."

Gersen's mind raced back and forth. "You were kidnaped and
brought to Sarkovy5"

"Yes, indeed, and oh, what a time we had! Riding the steppes
on those bouncing old wagons'"

"But the man who kidnaped you and brought you to Sarkovy—
that was Viole Falushe, or so I am told."

"Him'^ Dundme's mouth twisted as if she had bit into some-
thing sour. "His name wasn't Viole Falushe."

And Gersen belatedly recalled that Kakarsis Asm had told him
the same The man who had sold Inga and Dundine had not used
the name Viole Falushe at that time.

"No, no," said Dundine m a soft voice, looking far back in her
life. "That wasn't any Viole Falushe. It was that nasty little Vogel
Filschner."

All the way back into the Oikumene, in fragments and e)aculations,
bits from here, oddments from there, Dundine told her story, and
Gersen gave over trying to elicit a connected narrative

Expansive, inflated with freedom, Dundine talked with enthu-
siasm. She knew Vogel Filschner, yes indeed' She knew him well.
So he changed his name to Viole Falushe5 Small wonder, after the
shame his mother must feel! Though Madame Filschner had never
enjoyed the best of reputations, and no one had ever known Vogel
F'llschner's father. He had attended school with Dundine, two
classes ahead.

372 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Where was this?" asked Gersen.

"Why, at Ambeules!" declared Dundine, surprised that Gersen
did not already know the story as well as herself. Though Gersen
knew Rotterdam, Hamburg and Paris, he had never visited Am"
beules, a suburb of Rolingshaven on the west coast of Europe.

Vogel Filschner had always been a strange brooding boy, ac-
cording to Dundine. "Extremely sensitive," she confided. "Ripe al-
ways for a great rage or eyefuls of tears. One never knew what
Vogel might do!" And for a space she fell silent, shaking her head
in marvel at the deeds of Vogel Filschner. "Then when he was
sixteen, and I but fourteen, a new girl came to school. Oh, she was
a pretty thing—Jheral Tinzy was her name—and who but Vogel
Filschner should fall in love!"

But Vogel Filschner was grubby and unsavory; Jheral Tinzy, a
girl of sensitivity, found him repulsive. "Who could blame her?"
mused Dundine. "Vogel was an eerie boy. I can see him yet—tall
for his age and somewhat thin, with a round belly and a round
bottom, like a billiken. He walked with his head to the side, watch-
ing all with his dark burning eyes. They watched, they saw all, they
never forgot a thing, did Vogel Filschner's eyes. I must say that
Jheral Tinzy used him heartlessly, laughing and gay the while! She
drove poor Vogel to desperation, this is my belief. And that man
Vogel took up with—I can't recall his name! He wrote poetry, very
strange and daring! He was thought ungodly, though he had pa-
trons in the upper classes. Those days are so long ago, so tragic
and so sweet. Ah, if I could live them again, what changes there
would be."

At this point Dundine went into a nostalgic reminiscence:

"Even now I can smell the air from the sea. Ambeules, our old
district, is on the Gaas, and this is the loveliest part of the city,
though by no means the richest. The flowers are unimaginable. To
think that I have seen no flowers for thirty years, except for those
I myself have worked." And now nothing must do but that Dundine
should examine her tapestry which she had draped upon the back
bulkhead of the saloon.

Presently she returned to the subject of Vogel Filschner. "The
most morbidly sensitive of youths. The poet egged him on. And
truth to tell, Jheral Tinzy humiliated Vogel dreadfully. Whatever
the cause, Vogel performed his terrible deed. There were twenty-
nine girls in the choral society. Every Friday night we sang, Vogel

THE PAL-1CK OF l.OVE 373

had learned to operate a spaceship—it was a course all the boys
took. So Vogel stole one of those little Locater ships, and when we
came out from choral practice to the bus, it was Vogel who drove
us away. He took us to the spaceship and made us all get aboard.
But it was the one night Jheral Tinzy had not come to practice.
Vogel had no knowledge of this until the last girl left the bus, and
he was like a stone statue. Too late then, he had no choice but to
flee." Dundine sighed. "Twenty-eight girls, pure and fresh as little
flowers. How he dealt with us! W^e knew he was strange, but fe-
rocious as a wild beast? No, never; how could we girls imagine such
things? For reasons best known to himself he never used us in
bed—Inga thought he was sulking because he had failed to capture
Jheral. Godelia Parwitz and Rosamond—I can't think of her
name—they tried to hit him with a metal implement, though it
would have been the death of all had they succeeded, for none of
us knew how to guide the ship. He punished them in a dreadful
manner so that they cried and sobbed. Inga and I told him he was
a wicked monster to act so. He only laughed, did Vogel Filschner.
'A wicked monster, am I? I'll show you a wicked monster!' And he
took us to Sarkovy and sold us to Mr. Asm.

"But first he stopped at another world and sold ten girls who
were the least well-favored. Then Inga and I and six others who
hated him the most were sold on Sarkovy. Of the others, the most
beautiful, I know nothing. Thanks to Kalzibah, I have been suc-
cored."

Dundine wanted to return to Earth. At New W^exford, Gersen fur-
nished her a wardrobe, a ticket to Earth and funds sufficient to keep
her in comfort the rest of her life. At the spaceport she embarrassed
him by falling on her knees and kissing his hands. "I thought to
die and have my ashes scattered on a far planet! How was I so lucky?
With so many other poor creatures, why did Kalzibah select me for
his favor?"

The same question, in different terms, had been troubling Ger-
sen himself. With his wealth, he might have bought the whole of
Qualag and Juniper and every other factory in Sabra, and brought
each of the wretched women to their homes . . . WTiat then? he
asked himself. Sabra tapestries were in demand. New factories
would be established, new slaves imported. A year later all would
be as before.

374 THE DEMON PRINCES

Still. .. Gersen heaved a sigh. The universe abounded with
evils. No one man could defeat them all. Meanwhile Dundine was
wiping her eyes, and apparently preparing to fall on her knees once
more. Gersen said hastily, "One request I wish to make of you."

"Anything, anything!"

"You plan to return to Rolingshaven?"

"It is my home."

"You must not reveal how you were brought from Sabra. Tell
no one! Invent any wild tale. But do not mention me. Do not men-
tion that I asked you ofVogel Filschner."

"Trust me! The fiends of hell can tear forth my tongue, even
then I will not speak!"

"Good-bye then." Gersen departed hastily before Dundine
could again demonstrate her gratitude.

At a public telephone he called Bramar Investment Company.
"Henry Lucas to speak to Mr. Addels."

"A moment, Mr. Lucas."

Addels appeared on the screen. "Mr. Lucas?"

Gersen allowed his image to go forth. "All continues to go
well?"

"As well as could be expected. My problems arise only from
the sheer mass of our money. I should say, your money." Addels
permitted himself to smile. "But gradually I am training an orga-
nization. Incidentally, Radian Publishing Company is ours. We had
it cheaply because of the circumstances I mentioned previously."

"No one has been inquisitive? There have been no questions,
no rumors?"

"To the best of my knowledge, none. Zane Publishing Com-
pany bought Radian; Irwin and Jeddah own Zane, a numbered ac-
count at a Pontefract bank owns Irwin and Jeddah. Bramar
Investment is the numbered account. Who is Bramar Investment?
Ostensibly it is I."

"Well done!" said Gersen. "You could not have managed bet-
ter."

Addels acknowledged the praise with a stiff nod. "I must say
once more that Radian seems a poor investment, at least on the
basis of past performance."

"Why has it been losing money? Everyone seems to read Cos-
mopolis. I see it everywhere."

"Perhaps this is so. Nevertheless circulation has slowly been

THE PALACE OF LOVE 375

declining. More significantly, the typical reader no longer is a de-
cision-maker. The management has been trying to please everyone,
including the advertisers; as a result the magazine has lost its flair."

"There would seem to be a remedy for the situation," said
Gersen. "Hire a new editor, a man of imagination and intelligence.
Instruct him to revitalize the magazine, without regard for adver-
tisers or circulation, sparing no reasonable expense. When the mag-
azine regains its prestige, circulation and advertisers will return fast
enough."

"I am relieved that you preface the word expense with reason-
able," said Addels in his driest voice. "I still am not accustomed to
dealing with millions as if they were hundreds."

"No more am I," said Gersen. "The money means nothing to
me—except that I find it uncommonly useful. One other matter.
Instruct the Cosmopolis head office—I believe it is located in Lon-
don—that a man named Henry Lucas will be sent to the editorial
offices. Represent him as an employee of Zane Publishing if you
like. He is to be put on the payroll as a special writer, who will
work when and where he chooses without interference."

"Very well, sir. I will do as you require."

4

From Introduction to Old Earth, by Ferencz Szantho

Erdenfreude A mysterious and intimate emotion
which dilates blood vessels, slides chills along the sub-
cutaneous nerves, arouses qualms of apprehension and
excitement like those infecting a girl at her first ball
Erdenfreude typically attacks the outworld man ap-
proaching Earth for the first time Only the dull, the
insensitive, are immune The excitable have been
known to suffer near-fatal palpitations

The cause is the subject of learned dispute Neu-
rologists describe the condition as anticipatory adjust-
ment of the organism to absolute normality of all the
sensory modes color recognition, sonic perception,
conolis force and gravitational equilibrium The psy-
chologists differ, Erdenfreude, they state, is the flux of a
hundred thousand racial memories boiling up almost to
the level of consciousness Geneticists speak of RNA,
metaphysicians refer to the soul; parapsychologists
make the possibly irrelevant observation that haunted
houses are to be found on Earth alone

History is bunk
—Henry Ford

Gersen, who had lived nine years on Earth, nevertheless felt some-
thing of an outworlder's exhilaration as he hung above the great
globe awaiting his clearance from Space Security Finally it arrived,

THE PAL/ICE OP IOVE

with precise landing instructions, and Gersen dropped down to the
West Europe spaceport at Tarn. He passed through sanitation pro-
cedures and health inspection—the most stringent of the Oiku-
mene—punched appropriate buttons at the Immigration Control
console, and finally was allowed to proceed about his business

He rode to London by tube, and registered at the Royal Oak
Hotel, a block off the Strand The season was early autumn, the
sun shone through a high thin overcast Old London, permeated
with the vapors of antiquity, shone like a fine gray pearl

Gersen's clothes were in the Alphanor style, fuller in cut and
richer in color than the clothes of London. On the Strand he went
into a gentleman's outfitter, where he selected a fabric, then
stripped to his underwear and was measured by photonic scanners
Five minutes later he was delivered his new garments black trou-
sers, a jacket of dark brown and beige, a white blouse and black
cravat Inconspicuous now, Gersen continued along the Strand.

Dusk came to the sky Every planet had its distinctive dusk,
thought Gersen The dusk of Alphanor, for instance, was an electric
blue, gradually fading to the richest of ultramarines Sarkovy dusk
was a dead dismal gray, with a tawny overtone Dusk at Sabra had
been brown-gold, with domains of color around the other stars of
the cluster The dusk of Earth was dusk as it should be—soft,
heather-gra), soothing, an ending and a beginning   Gersen
dined at a restaurant which had maintained an unbroken tenancy
for over seventeen hundred years The old oak beams, fumed and
waxed, were as stout as ever, the plaster recently had been scraped
of twenty layers of whitewash and refinished, a process which oc-
curred every hundred years or so Gersen's thoughts reverted to his
youth He had visited London twice with his grandfather, though
for the most part they had lived in Amsterdam There never had
been dinners such as this, never leisure or idleness Gersen shook
his head sadl\ as he recalled the exercises to which his merciless
grandfather had put him A wonder that he had stood up to the
discipline

Gersen bought a copy of Covmopohs and returned to the hotel,
He went into the bar, and sitting at a table ordered a pint of Wor-
thmgton's AJe, brewed at Burton-on-Trent as had been the case for
something less than two thousand years He opened Cosfwpo/is It
was easy to understand why the magazine had become moribund
There were three long articles: "Have Earthmen Become Less Vir-

378 THK DEMON PRINCKS

ile?" "Patricia Poitrine: New Toast of the Smart Set"; "A Cler-
gyman's Guide to Spiritual Renewal." Gersen flicked through the
pages, then laid the magazine aside. He drained the mug, and went
up to his room.

In the morning he visited the editorial offices of Cosniopolis, and
asked to speak to the personnel director. This was Mrs. Neutra, a
brittle, black-haired woman wearing a great deal of preposterous
jewelry. She showed no inclination to speak to Gersen. "Sorry,
sorry, sorry. I can't consider anything or anyone at this moment.
I'm in a flap. Everybody's in a flap. There's been a shake-up; no
one's job is any good."

"Perhaps I had better speak to the editor in chief," said Gersen.
"There was to have been a letter from Zane Publishing, and it
should have arrived."

The personnel director made a gesture of irritation. "Who or
what is Zane Publishing?"

"The new ownership," said Gersen politely.

"Oh." The woman pushed among the papers on her desk.
"Maybe this is it." She read. "Oh, you're Henry Lucas."

"Yes."

"Hmm .. . Piff puff. . . You're to be a special writer. Some-
thing we Just don't need at the moment. But I'm only personnel
director. Oh hell, fill out the application, make an appointment for
your psychiatric tests. If you survive, and you probably won't, show
up a week from tomorrow for your orientation course."

Gersen shook his head. "I don't have time for any of these
formalities. I doubt if the new owners have much sympathy with
them."

"Sorry, Mr. Lucas. This is our inflexible program."

"What does the letter say?"

"It says to put Mr. Henry Lucas on the payroll as special
writer."

"Then please do so."

"Oh, double bing-bang hell. If this is how things are going to
go, why have a personnel director? WTly have psychiatric tests and
orientation courses? Why not just let janitors put out the rag?"

The woman seized a form, wrote with swift strokes of a flam-
boyant quill pen. "Here you are. Take it into the managing editor,
he'll arrange your assignment."

The managing editor was a portly gentleman with lips pursed

THE PALACE OF LOVE 379

in a worried pout. "Yes, Mr. Lucas. Mrs. Neutra Just called me. I
understand you have been sent in by the new ownership."

"I've been associated with them for a long time," said Gersen.
"But all I want at this moment is whatever identification you supply
your special correspondents, so that if necessary I can demonstrate
that I'm an employee of Cosmopolis."

The managing editor spoke into an intercom. "On your way
out, step into Department 2A and your card will be prepared." He
leaned morosely back into his chair. "It seems that you are to be a
roving reporter, responsible to no one. A very nice billet, if I may
say so. WTiat do you propose to write about?"

"One thing or another," said Gersen. "Whatever comes up."

The managing editor's face sagged with bewilderment. "You
can't go out and write a Cosmopolis article like that! Our issues are
programmed months ahead! We use public opinion polls to find
out what subjects people are interested in."

"I low can they know what they're interested in if they haven't
read it?" asked Gersen. "The new owners are throwing the public
opinion polls away."

The managing editor shook his head sadly. "How will we know
what to write about?"

"I have an idea or two. For instance, the Institute could stand
an airing. What are its current aims? Who are the men of Degrees
101, 102, 103? What information have they suppressed? What of
Tryon Russ and his anti-gravity machine? The Institute deserves a
comprehensive study. You could easily devote an entire issue to the
Institute."

The editor nodded curtly. "Don't you think it's a bit—well,
intense? Are people really interested in these matters?"

"If not they should be."

"Easily said, but it's no way to run a magazine. People don't
w^nt to really understand anything; they want to think they have
learned without the necessity of application. In our 'heavy' articles
we try to supply keys and guides, so at least they'll have something
to talk about at parties. But go on—what else do vou have in
mind?"

"I've been thinking of Viole Falushe and the Palace of Love.
Exactly what goes on at this establishment? What face does Viole
Falushe show? What name does he bear when he comes in from

\W DP MON PRINCES

BeyoncP Who are his guests at the Palace ofLove^ How have they
farced Would they care to return^"

"An interesting topic," the editor admitted "A bit close to the
knuckle perhaps. We prefer to steer away from sensationalism
and—shall we say—the grim facts of reality. Still I've often won-
dered about the Palace of Love WTiat in the world does go on3 The
usual, I suppose. But no one knows for sure. WTiat else^"

"That's all for now." Gersen rose to his feet. "In fact I'll be
working on this last story myself."

The managing editor shrugged his shoulders. "You seem to
have been accorded a free hand."

Gersen immediately rode the sub-Channel tube to Rolmgshaven,
arriving at the vast Zone Station a few minutes before noon. He
crossed the white-tiled lobby, past shdeways and escalators labeled
W^ien, Pans, Tsargrad, Berlin, Budapest, Kiev, Neapolis and a
dozen other ancient cities. He paused at a kiosk to buy a map, then
went to a cafe, settled himself at a table with a stem of beer and a
plate of sausages

Gersen had lived long in Amsterdam and had passed through
the Zone Station on several occasions, but of the city Rolingshaven
he knew little. As he ate, he studied the map.

Rolingshaven was a city of considerable extent, divided into four
principal municipalities by two rivers, the Gaas and the Sluicht, and
the great Evres Canal. At the north was Zummer, a rather grim
district of apartment towers and careful malls laid out by some neat-
minded city council ot the distant past. On the Heybau, a prom-
ontory hooking out into the sea, was the famous Handelhal
Conservatory, the wonderful Galactic Zoo and the Kindergarten;

Zummer otherwise was devoid of interest.

South across the Sluicht was the Old City—a teeming confu-
sion of small shops, inns, hostels, restaurants, beer caverns, book-
stalls, huddled offices, askew little houses of stone and timber—
dating from the Middle Ages. A district as chaotic and picturesque
as Zummer was stark and dull; and here as well was the ancient
University, overlooking the fish market along the banks of the
Evres Canal

Ambeules lay across the canal- a district of nine hills covered
with homes and a periphery given to wharves, warehouses, ship-
yards, mud flats from which were dredged the famous Flamande

THE PAMCE OF LOVE

oysters. The great Gaas estuary separated Ambeules from Dourrai,
a district of somewhat lower hills, again covered with small homes,
with the great industries and fabrication plants straggling along the
shore and southward.

This was the city where Viole Falushe—or more accurately,
Vogel Filschner—had lived, and where he had committed his first
great crime. The exact locale was Ambeules, and Gersen decided
to base himself in this area.

Finishing the beer and sausages he rode an escalator to the third
level above, where a local tube car whisked him south under the
Evres Canal to Ambeules Station. He rode to the surface, and look-
ing right and left through the hazy radiance which characterized
the region, approached the old woman who managed a newsstand.
"Which is a good hotel nearby?"

The old woman pointed a brown finger. "Up Hoebhngasse to
the Rembrandt Hotel: as good as any in Ambeules. Of course, if
it's elegance you require, then you must go to the Hotel Prince
Franz Ludwig in Old Town, the finest m Furope with prices to
match."

Gersen chose the Rembrandt Hotel, a pleasant old-fashioned
structure with public rooms paneled in dark wood, and was taken
to a suite of high-ceilmged rooms overlooking the great gray Gaas.

The day was still young. Gersen rode a cab to the Maine, where
he paid a small fee and was given access to the City Directory He
ran the record back to 1495. The screen spun to the letter F, Fi,
and finally the name Filschner. At this time three Filschners were
listed. Gersen made notes of the addresses. He likewise found two
Tmzys, and made similar notes. Then he dialed to the current list-
ings and found two Filschners and four Tinzys. One of the Fil-
schners and one of the Tinzys had maintained the same address
across the years.

Gersen next visited the office of the Ambeules Helion, and on
the strength of his Cosmopolis card was given access to the morgue.
He brought the index to the screen, scanned it for the name Vogel
Filschner, found a code number, coded and punched the "show"
button.

The tale was much as Dundine had told, though in condensed
form. Vogel Filschner was described as "a boy given to spells of
brooding and wandering alone by night." His mother, Hedwig Fil-
schner, identified as a beautician, professed herself amazed at Vo-

THF DEMON PRINCES

382

gel's outrageous deed. She described him as a "good boy, though
very idealistic and moody."

Vogel Filschner had had no close friends. In the biology labo-
ratory he had been teamed with a lad named Roman Haenigsen,
the school chess champion. They had played an occasional game of
chess during the lunch hour Roman evinced no astonishment at
Vogel's crime "He was a fellow who hated to lose. Whenever I
beat him, he would go savage and throw aside the pieces. Still, it
amused me to play with him. I don't like people who take the game
frivolously "

Vogel Filschner was not a frivolous boy, thought Gersen.

A photograph appeared, the kidnaped girls, grouped in a picture
identified as the "Philidor Bohus Choral Society " In the front row
stood a plump smiling girl m whom Gersen recognized Dundme.
Among the girls would be Jheral Tmzy, and Gersen checked the
faces against the caption. Jheral Tmzy was the third girl in the
fourth row. Not only did a girl m the third row obscure her face,
she also had turned her head aside at the time the photograph was
taken, and what could be seen of her face was indistinct.

There was no photograph of Vogel Filschner.

The file ended. So much for that, thought Gersen. Vogel Fil-
schner's identity as Viole Falushe was not widely apprehended m
Ambeules, if at all. As verification, Gersen dialed for the file on
Viole Falushe, the Demon Prince, but only a single reference ex-
cited his interest "Viole Falushe at various times has implied that
his original home was Earth. On several occasions a rumor has
reached us to the effect that Viole Falushe has been seen here m
Ambeules. Why he should wish to haunt our unexciting district is
a question which cannot be answered, and the rumors appear no
more than an insane hoax."

Gersen departed the newspaper offices and went to stand in the
street The gendarmery? Gersen decided against approaching them.
Unlikely, that they could tell him more than he already knew Un-
likely, that they would if they could. Additionally, Gersen had no
desire to arouse official curiosity.

Gersen checked the addresses he had noted, as well as the lo-
cation of the Philidor Bohus Lyceum, on his map. The Lyceum
was the nearest, at the far side of Lothar Parish Gersen signaled a
three-wheeled autocab, and was conveyed up one of the nine hills
through a district of small detached houses. Some were constructed

THE P4LACE OF LOVE

in the ancient fashion, of glazed dark red brick and a high pitched
roof of milk-glass tiles, others were m the new "hollow trunk" style:

narrow concrete cylinders two thirds below the ground. There were
houses of artificial sandstone compressed as a unit from molded soil;

houses of pink or white panels surmounted by crimped metal
domes; houses of laminated paper, with transparent roofs
electrically charged to repel dust. The bulbs of urn-cast glass or
glass-metal, so common among the worlds of the Concourse, had
never won acceptance among the folk of western Europe, who com-
pared them to pumpkins and paper lanterns, and called the people
who lived in them "nonhuman futunans." The cab discharged Ger-
sen before the Philidor Bohus Lyceum, a grim cube of synthetic
black stone flanked by a pair of smaller cubes

The director of the lyceum was Dr. Willem Ledmger, a bland
large-bodied man with taffy-colored skin and a lank lock of yellow
hair which wound around his scalp in a most peculiar manner. Ger-
sen wondered at the man's audacity thus to present himself before
several thousand adolescents. Ledinger was affable and unsuspi-
cious, readily accepting Gersen's statement that Cosmopohs wished
to present a survey of contemporary young people.

"I don't think there's much to write about," said Ledinger.
"Our young people are, if I must say it, unexceptionable. We have
many bright students and at least a fair quota of dullards . "

Gersen steered the conversation to students of the past and
their careers, from here it was an easy connection to the sub)ect of
Vogel Filschner.

"Ah yes," mused Dr Ledmger, patting his yellow topknot.
"Vogel Filschner. I haven't heard his name for years. Before my
time, of course; I was a mere instructor across the city at Hulba
Technical Academy But the scandal reached us, never fear. Fac-
ulties have big ears. WTiat a tragedy' To think of a lad like that
going so far wrong'"

"He never returned to Ambeules, then^"

"He'd be a fool to do so Or to advertise his presence, at any
rate."

"Do you have the likeness of Vogel Filschner among your rec-
ords^ Perhaps I might do a separate piece upon this peculiar crime."

Grudgingly Dr. Ledmger admitted that photographs of Vogel
Filschner were on file. "But why rake up the old nastiness? It is like
breaking into graves."

II IF DI MON PRINCES

"On the other hand, such an article might identify the rogue,
and bring him to )ustice "

"Justice5" Dr. Ledmger curled his lip in disbelief. "After thirty
years5 He was a hysterical child No matter what his crime, by this
time he has made redemption and found peace. What could be
gamed by bringing him to what you call justice5"

Gersen was somewhat startled by Dr. Ledinger's vehemence.
"To dissuade others. Perhaps there is a potential Vogel Filschner
among your students this very instant."

Dr. Ledmger smiled wistfully "I don't doubt it an instant. Cer-
tain of these young rascals—well, I won't tell tales out of school.
And I won't supply you with the photographs. I find the idea com-
pletely ob)ectionable."

"Is there a yearbook for the year of the crime5 Or better, the

previous year-

Dr. Ledmger looked at Gersen a moment, his affability slowdy
disappearing. Then he went to his wall, plucked a volume from the
shelves. He watched quietly as Gersen turned the pages, and finally
came upon the photograph of the Girls Choral Society he had al-
ready seen. Gersen pointed "There is Jheral Tmzy, the girl who
rebuffed Vogel, and drove him to his crime."

Dr. Ledmger examined the picture "Think of it. Twenty-eight
girls, snatched away Beyond. Their lives blasted. 1 wonder how they
fared. Some may still be alive, poor things "

"Whatever became of Jheral Tmzy5 She was not among the
group if you recall."

Dr. Ledmger examined Gersen with suspicion "You seem to
know a great deal about the case. Have you been completely candid
with me5"

Gersen grinned. "Not altogether I am principally interested in
Vogel Filschner, but I don't want anyone to know I'm interested.
If I can get the information I need discreetly, with no one the wiser,
so much the better."

"You are a police officer5 Or of the IPCC5"

Gersen displayed his identification. "Here is my sole claim to

fame."

"Hmmf. Cowiopohs plans to publish an article on Vogel Fil-
schner5 It seems a waste of paper and ink No wonder Cosmopohs
has lost prestige."

THE PALACE OF LOVE

"What of Jheral Tinzy? You have her photograph in your
files5"

"Undoubtedly." Dr Ledmger laid his hands upon the desk, to
signal that the interview had reached its end. "But we cannot open
our confidential files haphazardly I am sorrv "

Gersen rose to his feet. "Thank you, in any case."

"I have done nothing to help you," said Dr. Ledmger stonily

Vogel Filschner had lived with his mother in a narrow little house
at the eastern end of Ambeules, bordering on a dingy district of
warehouses and transportation depots. Gersen climbed the em-
broidered iron steps, touched the button, faced the inspection eye.
A woman's voice spoke. "Yes5"

Gersen spoke m his most confident voice. "I am trying to locate
Madame Hedwig Filschner, who lived here many years ago."

"I know no one of that name. You must consult with Ewane
Clodig who owns the property. We only pay rent "

Ewane Clodig, whom Gersen found m the offices of Clodig
Properties, consulted his records. "Madame Hedwig Filschner . . .
The name is familiar ... I don't see it on mv list. . . Here it is. She
moved, let me see, thirty years ago."

"You have her present address5"

"No sir. That is too much to ask. I have not even a forwarding
address from thirty years ago . . . But it comes back' Is she not the
mother of Vogel Filschner, the boy slaver5"

"Correct."

"Well then, I can tell you this. When the deed was known, she
packed her belongings and disappeared and no one has heard of
her since."

Jheral Tmzy's old home was a tall octagonal structure of the so-
called Fourth Palladian style, situated halfway up Bailleui Hill. The
address corresponded to one which Gersen had noted in the current
directory; the family had not changed its residence.

A handsome woman of early middle-age answered the door She
wore a gay peasant smock, a flowered scarf around her head. Gersen
appraised the woman before he spoke She returned a gaze so direct
as to be bold. "You're Jheral Tinzy5" Gersen asked tentatively.

"Jheral5" The woman's eyebrows arched high. "No—no in-

THE DEMON PRINCES

deed." She gave a sardonic bark of laughter. "What a strange thing
to ask. Who are you?"

Gersen produced his identification. The woman read, returned
the card. "What makes you think I am Jheral Tinzy?"

"She lived here at one time. She would be about your age."

"I'm her cousin." The woman considered Gersen more care-
fully than ever. "What did you want with Jheral?"

"May I come in? I'll explain."

The woman hesitated. As Gersen came forward she made a
quick motion to restrain him. Then, after a dubious glance over
her shoulder, she moved aside. Gersen entered a hall with a floor
of immaculate white glass tiles. On one hand was the display wall,
characteristic of middle-class European homes; here hung a panel
intricately inlaid with wood, bone and shell: Lenka workmanship
from Nowhere, one of the Concourse planets; a set of perfume
points from Pamtile; a rectangle of polished and perforated obsid-
ian, and one of the so-called "supplication slabs"* from Lupus 2311.

Gersen paused to examine a small tapestry of exquisite design
and workmanship. "This is a beautiful piece. Do you know where
it came from?"

"It's very rich," agreed the woman. "I believe it came from off-
world."

"It looks to me like a Sabra piece," said Gersen.

From the upper floor came a harsh call: "Emma? WTw is
there?"

"Awake already," muttered the woman. She raised her voice.
"A gentleman from Cosmopolis, Aunt."

"We wish no magazines!" cried the voice. "I am explicit!"

"Very well, Aunt. I'll tell him so." Emma signaled Gersen into
a sitting room, jerked her head toward the source of the voice.
"Jheral's mother. She is not well."

"A pity," said Gersen. "Where, incidentally, is Jheral?"

*The nonhuman names uf Peninsula 4-\, Lupus 2 III. devote the greater part ot their lues
to the working of these slabs, which apparcrirlv have a religious significance Twice each
year, at the solstices, two hundred and twenty-four microscopically exact slabs are placed
aboard a ceremonial harge, which is then allowed to drift out upon the ocean I'he Lupus
Salvage Company maintains a ship |ust over the hon/on troin Peninsula 4A As soon as
the raft has drifted h-om sight of land, it is recovered, the slabs are removed, exported and
sold as vhjrT' il'ni-i

THE PAL-ICE OF LOVE

Emma turned her bold glance on Gersen. "WTly do you want
to know?"

"To be candid, I'm trying to locate a certain Vogel Filschner."

Emma laughed soundlessly and without mirth. "You've come
to the wrong place to find Vogel Filschner. What a joke!"

"You knew him?"

"Oh yes. He was in the class under mine at the Lyceum."

"You haven't seen him since the kidnaping?"

"Oh no. Never. Still—it's strange that you should ask." Emma
hesitated, smiling tremulously as if in embarrassment. "It's like a
cloud passing over the sun. Sometimes I look around, sure that I've
glimpsed Vogel Filschner—but he's never there."

"W^Tiat happened to Jheral?"

Emma seated herself, looked far back aown the years. "You
must remember that there was much publicity and outcry. It was
the greatest outrage in memory. Jheral was pointed at; there were
unpleasant scenes. Several of the mothers actually slapped and
abused Jheral; she had snubbed Vogel, driven him to crime, hence,
shared his guilt... I must admit," said Emma reflectively, "that
Jheral was a heartless flirt. She was simply adorable, of course. She
could bring the boys with one little sidelong glance—like this . . ."
Emma demonstrated. "Such a rascal. She even flirted with Vogel.
Pure sadism, because she couldn't bear the sight of him. Ah, the
detestable Vogel! Every day Jheral would come home from school
to tell us another of Vogel's enormities. How he dissected a frog,
and then, after wiping his hands on a paper towel, ate his lunch.
How badly he smelled, as if he never changed his clothes. How he
would boast of his poetic mind, and try to impress her with his
magnificence. It's true! Jheral with her tricks incited Vogel—and
twenty-eight other girls paid the price."

"And then?"

"Great indignation. Everyone turned against Jheral, as perhaps
they had always longed to do. Jheral finally ran away with an older
man. She never returned to Ambeules. Not even her mother knows
where she is."

Into the room rushed a blazing-eyed old woman with a mane
of flying white hair. Gersen Jumped behind a chair to avoid her
charge. "WTiat do you want, asking questions in this house? Be off
with you—hasn't there been trouble enough? I don't trust your

3SS IHF D^MON PRINCES

face, you are like all the rest. Out, never return' Scoundrel' The
audacity, entering this house with your filthy questions . ."

Gersen left the house as expeditiously as he was able. Emma
started to accompany him to the door but her aunt, hobbling for-
ward, shoved her aside.

The door closed, the near-hysterical ranting became muffled.
Gersen heaved a deep breath. A virago' He had been lucky to es-
cape without scratches

At a nearby cafe Gersen drank a flask of wine and watched the
sun sink toward the sea ... An excellent possibility, of course, that
the entire line oi investigation, beginning with the notice in the
Avente newspaper, was a wild goose chase. To date, the only link
between Viole Falushe and Vogel Filschner was the opinion ofKa-
karsis Asm. Emma Tm?y apparently believed that she had seen
Vogel F'llschncr m Ambeules, Viole Falushe might well enjoy the
dangerous pleasure of returning to the scenes of his childhood. If
so, why had he not revealed himself to his old acquaintances? Al-
though it seemed that Vogel Filschner had made precious few
friends or acquaintances in any event. Jheral Tmzy perhaps had
made the wisest of decisions when she took herself away from Am-
beules Vmie Falushe had a notoriously long memory. His one
friend had been Roman Haemgsen, the chess champion. Some-
where also there had been mention of a poet who had incited Vogel
Filschner to excess .. . Gersen called for a directory, and searched
for the name Haemgsen. There it was; the book almost fell open
to the name Gersen copied the address and asked directions from
a waiter It appeared that Roman Haemgsen lived scarcely five
minutes' walk away. Finishing his wine, Gersen set off through the
waning sunlight.

The house of Roman Haemgsen was the most elegant of the
houses he had visited this day a three-story structure of metal and
meltstone panels, with electric windows to go transparent or opaque
at a spoken word.

Haemgsen was only ;ust arriving home when Gersen turned
into the walk. A small brisk man with a large head and prim me-
ticulous features, he peered sharply at Gersen and asked his busi-
ness Candor in this case seemed more useful than indirection.
Gersen said: "I am making inquiries in regard to your old classmate
Vogel Filschner. I understand that you were almost his only friend "

THE PALACE OF LOVE 389

"Hm," said Roman Haenigsen. He thought a moment. "Come,
inside, if you will, and we will talk."

He took Gersen into a study decorated with all manner of chess
memorabilia, portraits, busts, collections of chessmen, photographs.
"Do you play chess?" he asked Gersen.

"I have played on occasion, though not often."

"Like anything else, one must practice to keep in fighting trim.
Chess is an old game." He went to a board, disarranged the chess-
men with affectionate contempt. "Every variation has been ana-
lyzed; there is a recorded game to illuminate the results of any
reasonable move. If one had a sufficiently good memory, he would
not need to think to win his games, he could merely play someone
else's winning game. Luckily, no one owns such a memory but the
robots. Still, you did not come here to talk of chess. Will you take
a glass of liquor?"

"Thank you." Gersen accepted a crystal goblet containing an
inch of spirits.

"Vogel Filschner! Strange to hear that name once more. Is his
whereabouts known?"

"This is what I am attempting to learn."

Roman Haemgsen gave his head a wry shake. "You will learn
nothing from me. I have neither seen him nor heard from him since
1494."

"I had hardly expected that he would return in his old identity.
But it's possible—" Gersen paused as Roman Haemgsen snapped
his fingers.

"Peculiar'" said Haenigsen. "Each Thursday night I play at the
Chess Club. Perhaps a year ago I noticed a man standing under the
clock. I thought, surely that's not Vogel Filschner^ He turned, I
saw his face. It was a man somewhat like Vogel, but far different.
A man of fine appearance and poise, a man who had nothing of
Vogel's hangdog surliness. And yet—since you mention it—there
was something to this man, perhaps his manner of holding his arms
and hands, which reminded me of Vogel "

"You haven't seen this man smce^"

"Not once."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No. In my surprise I must have halted to stare, but then I
hurried on past."

?90 '1 HE DEMON PRINCFS

"Can you think of anyone Vogel might wish to see3 Did he
have friend'i other than yourself^"

Roman Haenigsen pursed his lips wryly. "I was hardly his
friend We shared a laboratory table, I played him an occasional
game of chess, which he often won. Had he applied himself he
might have taken the championship But he cared only for mooning
over girls and writing bad poetry in imitation of a certain Navarth."

"Ah, Navarth. This is the poet whom Vogel Filschner sought
to emulate "

"Unfortunately In my opinion Navarth was a charlatan, a bom-
bast, a man of the most dubious attitudes."

"And what has become of Navarth^"

"I believe he still is about, though hardly the man he was thirty
years ago People have grown wise, studied decadence no longer
shocks as it did when I was a lad Vogel naturally was entranced,
and went through the most ludicrous antics in order to identify
with his idol. Yes indeed. If anyone is to blame for the crimes of
Vogel Filschner, it is the mad poet Navarth'"

Drinking whisky by the peg,
Singing songs of drunken glee,
I thought to swallow half a keg
But Tim R. Mortiss degurgled me.

Not precisely comme il faut
To practice frank polygamy;

I might have practiced, even so,
But Tim R Mortiss disturgled me.

Chorus:

Tim R. Mortiss, Tim R. Mortiss,
He's a loving friend-
He holds my hand while I'm asleep
He guides me on my four-day creep,
He's with me to the end.

To woo a dainty Eskimo

I vowed to swim the Bering Sea.

No sooner had I wet a toe

When Tim R. Mortiss occurgled me.

A threat arcane, a fearful bane

Within an old phylactery.

I turned the rubbish down a dram,

Now Tim R. Mortiss perturgles me

Chorus (with a snapping of fingers and clicking of
heels in mid-air)

THE DKMON PRINCES

392

Tim R. Morriss, Tim R. Mortiss,
He's a loving friend.
He holds my hand while I'm asleep,
He guides me on my four-day creep,
He's with me to the end.

—Navarth

On the following day Gersen paid a second visit to the offices of
the Helion. The dossier on Navarth was enthusiastic and ample,
reporting scandals, improprieties, defiances and outrageous pro-
nouncements across a period of forty years. The initial entry dealt
with an opera, presented by students of the university, with a li-
bretto by Navarth. The first performance was declared an infamy,
and nine students were expelled from the university. Thereafter,
Navarth's career soared and collapsed, resurged, re-collapsed, at last
with finality. For the past ten years he had resided aboard a house-
boat on the Gaas estuary near the Fitlingasse.

Gersen tubed to Station Hedrick on Boulevard Castel Vivence
and surfaced in the commercial and shipping district of Ambeules
beside the Gaas estuary. The district roiled with the activity of
agencies, warehouses, offices, wharves, buffets, restaurants, wine-
shops, fruit hawkers, news kiosks, dispensaries. Barges nosed into
docks to be unloaded by robots; drays rumbled along the boulevard;

from below came the vibration of freight moving by tube. At a
sweetshop Gersen inquired for the Fitlingasse and was directed east
along the boulevard.

Automatic open-sided passenger wagons served the boulevard,
with patrons riding on benches facing the street. Gersen rode a
mile, two miles, with the Gaas on the right hand. The bustle di-
minished; the imposing blocks and masses of the commercial dis-
trict gave way to ancient three- and four-story structures: queer
narrow-windowed buildings of melt-stone or terra-cotta panels
stained a hundred subtle colors by smoke and salt air. Occasionally
the wagon passed vacant areas, where only weeds grow. Through
these gaps could be seen the next street to the north, on a somewhat
higher level than Boulevard Castel Vivence, with tall apartment
buildings pressed tightly against each other.

The Fitlingasse was a narrow gray alley striking off up the hill.
Gersen alighted and almost at once observed a hulking two-storied

THE PALACE OF LOVE

393

houseboat moored to a dilapidated dock. A wisp of smoke drifted
up from the chimney. Someone was aboard.

Gersen took stock of the surroundings. Hazy sunlight played
on the estuary; on the far shore thousands of houses with brown
tile roofs stood in ranks down to the water's edge. Elsewhere were
unused wharves, rotting piles, a warehouse or two, a saloon with
purple and green windows extending over the water. On the dock
a girl of seventeen or eighteen sat tossing pebbles into the water.
She gave Gersen a brief dispassionate stare, then looked away. Ger-
sen turned back to consider the houseboat. If this were Navarth's
residence, he enjoyed a very pleasant prospect—though the wan
sunlight, the brown roofs of Dourrai, the rotting wharves, the lap-
ping water, invested the scene with melancholy. Even the girl
seemed somber beyond her years. She wore a short black skirt, a
brown jacket. Her hair was dark and rumpled, whether from wind
or neglect, it could not be known. Gersen approached and inquired,
"Is Navarth aboard the houseboat?"

She nodded without change of expression, and watched with
the detachment of a naturalist as Gersen descended the ladder to
the landing, then crossed an alarming gangplank to the foredeck of
the houseboat.

Gersen knocked at the door. There was no response. Gersen
knocked again. The door was flung violently open; a sleepy un-
shaven man peered forth. His age was indeterminate; he was thin,
spindle-shanked, with a twisted beak of a nose, rumpled hair of no
particular color, eyes which though perfectly set gave the impres-
sion of looking in two directions at once. His manner was wild and
truculent. "Is there no privacy left in the world? Off the boat, at
once. Whenever I settle for a moment's rest, some sheep-faced
functionary, some importunate peddler of tracts insists on pounding
me out of my couch. Will you not depart? Have I not made myself
clear? I warn you, I have a trick or two up my sleeve .. ."

Gersen tried to speak to no avail. When Navarrh reached
within he hastily retreated to the dock. "A moment of your time!"
he called. "I am no functionary, no salesman. I am named Henry
Lucas, and I wish—"

Navarth shook his skinny fist. "Not now, not tomorrow^ not in
the total scope of the future, nor at any time thereafter, do I wish
to make your acquaintance. Be off with you! You have the face of
a man that brings ill news; a gnashing blacktooth grin. These mat-

THE DEMON PRINCES

394

ters are clear to me: you are fey! I want nothing of you. Go away."
With a leer of evil triumph he swung the gangplank away from the
landing, re-entered the houseboat.

Gersen returned to the dock. The girl sat as before. Gersen
looked back down at the houseboat. He asked in a wondering voice:

"Is he always like that?"

"He is Navarth," said the girl, as if this were all that need be
said.

Gersen went to the saloon, drank a pint of beer. The bartender was
a quiet watchful man of great height with an imposing stomach,
and either knew nothing about Navarth or did not choose to reveal
what he knew. Gersen gleaned no information.

He sat thinking. A half hour passed. Then going to the tele-
phone directory, he looked in the classified section under Salvage.
An advertisement caught his eye:

JOBAN SALVAGE AND TOW
TUGS—CRANE BARGE—DIVING EQUIPMENT

No job too large or too small.

Gersen telephoned and made his needs known. He was assured that
on the morrow the equipment he required would be at his service.

The following morning a heavy ocean-going tug drove up the
estuary, turned, eased into the mooring next to Navarth's house-
boat, with a bare three feet between. The mate bawled orders to
the seamen; lines were flung up to the dock and dropped over bol-
lards. The tug was moored.

Navarth came out on deck, dancing with fury. "Must you moor
so close? Take that great hulk away; do you intend to thrust me
into the dock?"

Leaning on the railing of the tug, Gersen looked down into
Navarth's upturned face. "I believe I spoke a few words to you
yesterday?"

"I recall very well; I requested your departure, and here you
are again, more inconveniently than before."

"I wonder if you would give me the pleasure of a few minutes'
conversation? Perhaps there might be profit in it for you."

"Profit? Bah. I have poured more money out of my shoe than
you have spent. I require only that you take your tug elsewhere."

THE PALACE OF LOl^E

395

"Gertainly. We are here but for a few minutes."

Navarth gave a pettish nod. At the far side of the tug the diver
Gersen had hired was climbing back on board. Gersen turned to
Navarth. "It's very important that I speak to you; if you would be
so good as to—"

"This importance exists from a single point of view. Be off with
you and your mammoth tug!"

"At once," said Gersen. He nodded to the diver, who touched
a button.

Under the houseboat sounded an explosion; the houseboat
shuddered and began to list. Navarth ran back and forth in a frenzy.
From the tug grapples were lowered and hooked to the houseboat's
rub-rail. "Apparently there has been an explosion in your engine
room," Gersen told Navarth.

"How can this be? There has never been an explosion before.
There is not even an engine. I am about to sink!"

"Not so long as you are supported by the lines. But we are
leaving in one minute and I must cast loose the grapples."

"WTiat?" Navarth threw up his arms. "I will go to the bottom,
together with the boat! Is this your desire?"

"If you recall, you yourself ordered me to leave," said Gersen
in a reasonable voice. "Hence—" he turned to the crewmen.
"Throw off the grapples. We depart."

"No, no!" bellowed Navarth. 'Til sink!"

"If you invite me aboard your boat, if you talk to me and help
me compose an article I'm writing, then that's a different matter,"
said Gersen. "I might be disposed to help you through this mis-
fortune, even, perhaps, to the extent of repairing your hull."

"WTly not?" stormed Navarth. "You are responsible for the
explosion."

"Careful, Navarth. That's at the very verge of slander! Remem-
ber, there are witnesses."

"Bah! What you have done is piracy and extortion. Writing an
article, indeed. Well, then—why didn't you say so in the first place?
I too am a writer! Come aboard; we will talk. I am always grateful
for some small diversion; a man without friends is a tree without
leaves."

Gersen jumped down upon the houseboat; Navarth, now all
amiability, arranged chairs where they caught the full play of the
pallid sunlight. He brought forth a bottle of white wine. "Sit then;

I HE DEMON PRINCES

396

make yourself at ease'" He opened the bottle, poured, then leaning
back in his chair drank with pleasure His face was placid and guile-
less, as if all the racial wisdom had passed through leaving no per-
ceptible traces. Like Earth, Navarth was old, irresponsible and
melancholy, full of a dangerous mirth.

"You are a writer then? I may say you do not correspond to
the usual image."

Gersen produced his Cosmopoliv identification. "Mr. Henry Lu-
cas," read Navarth "Special writer Why do you come to me? I am
no longer heeded, my vogue is a memory Discredited, penurious.
Where was my offense^ I sought to express truth in all its vehe-
mence. This is a danger. A meaning must be uttered idly, without
emphasis. The listener is under no compulsion to react, his custom-
ary defenses are not m place, the meaning enters his mind I have
much to say about the world, but every year the compulsion dwin-
dles. Let them live and die, it is all one to me. WTiat is the scope
of your article^"

"Viole Falushe."

Navarth blinked. "An interesting topic, but why come to me?"

"Because you knew him as Vogel Filschner."

"Hm Well, yes. This is a fact not generally known." With
fingers suddenly limp Navarth poured more wine "What specifi-
cally do you wish^"

"Knowledge."

"I suggest," said Navarth suddenly brisk, "that you seek the
information at its source."

Gersen nodded agreement. "Well enough, if I knew where to
look. But what if he is off Beyond^ At his Palace of Love."

"This is not the case; he is here on Earth." As soon as Navarth
spoke he seemed to regret his ingenuousness and frowned in irri-
tation.

Gersen leaned back, his doubts and misgivings dissolved. Vogel
Filschner and Viole Falushe were one; here was a man who knew
him in both identities.

Navarth had become uneasy and resentful. "A thousand topics
more interesting than Viole Falushe "

"How do you know he's on Earth3"

Navarth made a sound of grand scorn. "How do I know any-
thing^ 1 am Navarth'" He pointed to a wisp of smoke on the sky.
"I see that, I know." He pointed to a dead fish, floating belly up-

THE PAL4LF OF LOVE

ward. "I see that, I know " He raised the bottle of wine, held it up
against the sunlight. "I see that, I know "

Gersen reflected a moment m silence. "I am in no position to
criticize your epistemology," he said at last "In the first place, I
don't understand it Have you no more explicit knowledge of Viole
Falushe3"

Navarth attempted to lay his finger slyly alongside his nose, but
miscalculating, prodded his eye. "There is a time for bravado and
another for caution I still do not know the point of your article."

"It is to be a judicious document, without exaggeration or apol-
ogy. I intend that the facts will speak for themselves."

Navarth pursed his lips "A dangerous undertaking. Viole Fa-
lushe is the most sensitive of men. Do you recall the princess who
detected a pea under forty mattresses3 Viole Falushe can smell out
a slur in a blind infant's morning invocation to Kalzibah . . On the
other hand, the world revolves, the carpet of knowledge unrolls.
Viole Falushe has given me no cause for gratitude."

"Your appraisal of his character then is negative?" asked Gersen
cautiously.

Navarth could control himself no longer. He drank wine with
a grandiose gesture. "Negative indeed. Were I to give all orders,
what a retribution I could create'" He slumped back in his chair,
pointed a skinny finger toward the horizon, spoke in a hushed mon-
otone. "A pyre tall as a mountain, and Viole Falushe at the top.
Platforms surrounding for ten thousand musicians. With a single
glance I strike the fire The musicians play while their whisky boils
and their instruments melt Viole Falushe sings soprano .. ." He
poured more wine. "A wistful vision. It can never be I would
be content seeing Viole Falushe drowned or dismembered by
lions—"

"You evidently are well acquainted."

Navarth nodded, his gaze fixed on the past "Vogel Filschner
read my poetry An imaginative youth, but disoriented How he
changed, how he expanded. To his imagination he added control,
he is now a great artist."

"Artist3 What manner of artist5"

Navarth dismissed the question as irrelevant. "Never could he
have arrived at his present stature without art, without style and
proportion. Do not be deceived' Like myself he is a simple man,
with the clearest of goals Now you—you are the most complicated

THE. DEMON PRINCES

398

and opaque of men. I see a corner of your mind, then a black film
shifts. Are you an Earthman? But tell me nothing." Navarth waved
his hands as if to intercept any answer Gersen might feel called
upon to make. "There is too much knowledge already in the world;

we use facts as crutches, to the impoverishment of our senses. Facts
are falsehoods; logic is deceit. I know a single system of commu-
nication: the declaiming of poetry."

"Viole Falushe is also a poet?"

"He has no great art with words," grumbled Navarth, unwilling
to relinquish control of the conversation.

"When Viole Falushe visits Earth, where does he stay? Here
with you?"

Navarth stared at Gersen unbelievingly. "This is a sorry
thought."

"Where then does he stay?"

"Here, there, everywhere. He is as elusive as air."

"How do you seek him out?"

"That I never do. He occasionally visits me."

"And he has done so recently?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Have I not implied as much? Why are you so
interested in Viole Falushe?"

"To answer this would be to inflict a fact upon you," said Ger-
sen with a grin. "But it's no secret. I represent Cosmopolis magazine
and I wish to write an article on his life and activities."

"Hmmf. A popinjay for vanity is Viole Falushe. But why not
put your questions to him directly?"

"I would like to do so. First I must make his acquaintance."

"Nothing is easier," declared Navarth, "provided you pay the
fees."

"W^hy not? I am on a liberal expense account."

Navarth jumped to his feet, suddenly full of enthusiasm. "We
will need a beautiful girl, young, unsullied. She must project a par-
ticular quality of scintillance, a susceptibility, a fervor, an urgency."
He looked vaguely here and there, as if in search of something he
had lost. Up on the dock he spied the girl whom Gersen had seen
the day before. Navarth put fingers to his mouth, produced a shrill
whistle, signaled the girl to approach. "She'll do very well."

"Is this an unsullied young scintillant?" asked Gersen. "She
seems more of a guttersnipe."

"Ha ha," cawed Navarth. "You will see! I am weak and ca-

THE PALACE OF LOVE

399

chectic, but I am Navarth; old as I am, women bloom under my
touch. You will see."

The girl came aboard the houseboat, and listened to Navarth's
program without comment. "We go forth to dine. Expense means
nothing, we shall exalt ourselves with the finest. Prepare yourself
then with silks, with jewels, with your most precious unguents. This
is a wealthy gentleman, the finest of fellows. WTiat is your name
once more?"

"Henry Lucas."

"Henry Lucas. He is impatient to proceed. Go then, prepare
yourself."

The girl shrugged. "I am prepared,"

"You are the best judge of this," declared Navarth. "Inside
then, while I consult my wardrobe." He glanced at the sky. "A
yellow day, a yellow night. I will wear yellow."

He led the way into his saloon, which was furnished with a
wooden table, two chairs of carved oak, shelves stuffed with books
and oddments, a vase containing several stalks of pampas grass. Na-
varth reached into a cabinet for a second flagon of wine, which he
opened and banged upon the table, along with glasses. "Drink."
With this he disappeared into the next room.

Gersen and the girl were left alone. He examined her covertly.
She wore the black skirt of yesterday, with a black short-sleeved
blouse, sandals, no jewelry or skin tone, which on Earth was not
currently fashionable. The girl had good features, though her hair
was a tangle. She was either extremely poised or vastly indifferent.
On impulse Gersen took a comb from Navarth's washstand and
going to the girl, combed her hair. After a single startled glance
she stood, quiet and passive. Gersen wondered what went on in her
mind. Was she as mad as Navarth?

"There," he said at last. "You look somewhat less of a raga-
muffin."

Navarth returned, wearing a maroon jacket, several sizes too
large, a pair of yellow shoes. "You have not tasted the wine." He
filled three glasses brimming. "A merry evening in prospect. Here,
the three of us; three islands in the sea, on each island a castaway
soul. We go forth together, and what shall we find?"

Gersen tasted the wine: a fine heady muscatel; he drank. Na-
varth poured the wine down his throat as if he were emptying a
bucket into the estuary. The girl drank, without a tremor, without

400 THE DEMON PRINCES

any display of emotion. A strange girl, thought Gersen. Somewhere
behind the grave face was flamboyance. What stimulus could bring
it forth? What would cause her to laugh?

"Are we ready then?" Navarth looked inquiringly from the girl
to Gersen, then threw open the door and ushered them graciously
forth. "In search ofViole Falushe!"

From "Viole Falushe," Chapter III of The Demon Princes,
by Carl Carphen (Elucidarian Press, New Wexford, Aloy-
sius, Vega).

Each of the Demon Princes must cope with the prob-
lem of notoriety. Each is sufficiently vain and flamboy-
ant (Attel Malagate is the exception) to wish to flourish
his personality, to impress his style upon as many lives
as possible. Practical considerations, however, make an-
onymity and facelessness important, especially as each
of the Demon Princes relishes his visits to the worlds
of Oikumene. Viole Falushe is no exception. Like Mal-
agate, Kokor Hekkus, Lens Larque and Howard Alan
Treesong, he Jealously guards his identity, and not even
guests at his Palace of Love have seen his face.

In some respects Viole Falushe is the most human
of the Demon Princes: which is to say his vices are on
a scale of human understanding. The unimaginable cru-
elty, reptilian callousness, megalomania, weird mischief
exemplified respectively by Kokor Hekkus, Malagate,
Lens Larque and Howard Alan Treesong are totally
absent. The evil in Viole Falushe can be characterized
as arachnid vindictiveness, infantile sensitivity, mon-
strous self-indulgence.

His vices aside, there is an oddly appealing aspect
to Viole Falushe, a warmth, an idealism: so much is
conceded by the most uncompromising moralists. Lis-

THE DKMON PRINCFS

ten to Viole Falushe himself, as he addresses the stu-
dents of Cervantes University (by recording, naturallv):

"I am an unhappy man. I am haunted by my in-
ability to express the inexpressible, to come to terms
with the unknown. The pursuit of beauty is, of course,
a major psychological drive. In its various guises—
which is to say, the urge to perfection, the yearning to
merge with the eternal, the explorer's restlessness, the
realization of an Absolute created by ourselves, yet
larger than our totality—it is perhaps the most single
important human thrust.

"I am tormented by this thrust; I strive, I build; yet,
paradoxically, I suffer from the conviction that should
I ever achieve my peculiar goals, I might find the results
dissatisfying. In this case, the contest is worth more
than the victory. I will not describe my own struggle,
my griefs, my dark midnights, my heartbreaks. You
might find them incomprehensible, or worse, ludicrous.

<t! am often described as an evil man, and while I
do not dispute the label, I have not taken the stricture
to heart. Evil is a vector quality, operative only in the
direction of the vector, and often the acts which incur
the most censure do singularly small harm, and often
benefit, to the people concerned.

"I am often asked regarding the Palace of Love, but
I do not intend to gratify prurient curiosities in this
connection. Suffice it to say that I espouse the augmen-
tation of awareness, and find no fault with the gratifi-
cation of the senses—though I myself practice an
asceticism which might surprise you. The Palace of
Love extends over a considerable area and is by no
means a single structure, but rather a complex of gar-
dens, pavillions, halls, domes, towers, promenades and
scenic panoramas. The people of the Palace are all
young and beautiful and know no other life; they are
the happiest of mortals."

So speaks Viole Falushe. Rumors are not so kind to
him. He is said to be fascinated with erotic variations
and culminations. One of his favorite games (reputedly)
is to rear a beautiful maiden with great care in an iso-

THE PAIAU-: OF LOVE 403

lated cloister. She is trained to the knowledge that some
day she will meet a miraculous creature who will love
her and then kill her . .. and one day she is liberated
upon a small island where Viole Falushe awaits.

The Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig was the most elegant rendezvous
of Rolingshaven. The main foyer was enormous; it measured two
hundred feet on a side, and a hundred feet to the ceiling. Golden
light exuded from twelve chandeliers; a deep golden-brown carpet
enriched with subtle patterns covered the floor. The walls were
covered with silk of pale blue and yellow; the ceiling depicted scenes
from a medieval court. The furnishings were of an intricate antique
style, solid yet graceful, with cushions of rose or yellow satin, the
woodwork lacquered a muted gold. On marble tables stood eight-
foot urns from which a profusion of flowers overflowed; beside each
table stood a smartly uniformed page boy. Here was a sumptuous
intricacy which could be found nowhere but on old Earth. Never
before had Gersen entered a place so grand.

Navarth selected a couch near an alcove where a quartet of
musicians played a set of capriccios. Navarth summoned a page and
ordered champagne.

"Is this where we seek Viole Falushe?" asked Gersen.

"I have seen him here on several occasions," said Navarth. "We
shall be on the alert."

Sitting in the murmurous golden room they drank champagne.
The girl's black skirt and blouse, her bare brown legs and sandals,
whether through paradox or improbable juxtaposition, seemed nei-
ther tawdry nor unsuitable, and Gersen was somewhat puzzled.
How had she managed the transformation?

Navarth spoke of this and that; the girl said little or nothing.
Gersen was content to let events go at their own pace. Indeed, he
found himself enjoying the outing. The girl had put down consid-
erable wine, but showed no effects. She seemed interested in the
people who moved through the great foyer, but in a spirit of de-
tachment. At last Gersen asked, "What is your name? I don't know
how to speak to you."

The girl did not respond immediately. Navarth said, "Call her
what you like. This is my custom. Tonight she is Zan Zu from
Eridu."

404 THE DEMON PRINCES

The girl smiled, a brief flicker of amusement. Gersen decided
that she was not, after a!l, a lackwit.

"Zan Zu, eh? Is this your name?"

"It's as good as any other."

"The champagne is finished, an excellent vintage. We go to
dine!" Navarth rose to his feet, and gave his arm to the girl.
Crossing the foyer, they descended four broad stairs into the dining
room, which was no less magnificent than the foyer.

Navarth ordered dinner with enthusiasm and finesse; never had
Gersen enjoyed a finer meal—one which made him regret the limits
imposed by the capacity of his stomach. Navarth ate with voracious
enjoyment. Zan Zu of Eridu, as Gersen now thought of the girl,
ate delicately, without interest. Gersen watched her sidelong. Was
she ill? Had she recently undergone some great sorrow or shock?
She seemed composed enough—too composed, considering the
wine she had drunk: muscatel, champagne, the various wines Na-
varth had ordered to accompany the dinner. . . Well, it made no
difference to him, Gersen reflected. His business was with Viole
Falushe. Though here at the Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig, in the
company of Navarth and Zan Zu, Viole Falushe seemed unreal.
With an effort Gersen brought himself back to the business at hand.
How easy to be seduced by richness, elegance, exquisite food, the
golden light of chandeliers. He asked, "If Viole Falushe is not to
be found here, where do you propose to look?"

"I have no set scheme," Navarth explained. "We must move as
the mood takes us. Do not forget that Viole Falushe long ago re-
garded me as an exemplar. Is it not reasonable to suppose that his
program will merge with our own?"

"Reasonable indeed."

"We will test the theory."

They lingered over coffee, trifles of fragrant pastry, quarter-
gills of krystaliek; then Gersen paid the dinner check, well over
SVU 200, and they departed the Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig.

"Now where?" asked Gersen.

Navarth ruminated. "We are somewhat early. Still, atMikmak's
Cabaret there is always amusement of one kind or another, if only
in watching the good burghers at their decorous ease."

From Mikmak's Cabaret, they moved on to Paru's, Der Flie-
gende Hollander and thence to the Blue Pearl. Each new tavern
and cabaret was somewhat less genteel than the previous one, or so

THE PALACE OF LOl^

it seemed. From the Blue Pearl, Navarth led the way to the Sunset
Cafe on the Boulevard Caste! Vivence in Ambeules, thereafter to a
succession ofwaterfront dives, beer cellars and dance halls. At Za-
diel's All-World Rendezvous, Gersen interrupted one of Navarth's
dissertations. "Is it here that we can expect Viole Falushe?"

"Where else but here?" demanded the mad poet, now some-
what drunk. "Where the heart of Earth beats the thickest blood!
Thick, purple, smelling of must, like crocodile blood, the blood of
dead lions. Never fear—you will see your man! What was I dis-
cussing? My youth, my squandered youth! At one time I worked
for Tellur Transit, investigating the contents of lost suitcases. Here,
perhaps, I gained my deepest insight into the structure of the hu-
man soul . . ."

Gersen sat back in his chair. In the present circumstances pas-
sive wariness was the optimum course. To his surprise he found
himself slightly drunk, though he had attempted moderation. The
colored lights, the music, Navarth's wild talk were probably no less
responsible than the alcohol. Zan Zu was as remote as ever; looking
sidelong at her, as he had tended to do all evening, Gersen won-
dered: what goes on in this umbral creature's mind? WTiat does she
hope from life? Does she daydream? Does she yearn for a handsome
lover? Does she ache to travel, to visit the outworlds?

From the ancient cathedral on Flammande Heights came
twelve reverberating strokes of the bass bell. "The hour is mid-
night," croaked Navarth. He rose, swaying, to his feet, looked from
Gersen to Zan Zu from Eridu. "Now we proceed."

"WTiere now?" asked Gersen.

Navarth pointed across the street, to a long low pavilion with
an eccentric roof and festoons of green lights. "I suggest the Ce-
lestial Harmony Cafe, the rendezvous of travelers, spacemen, off-
world wanderers, wayward vagabonds such as ourselves."

To the Celestial Harmony Cafe they walked, Navarth declaim-
ing upon the poor quality of life in present-day Rolingshaven. "We
are stagnant, slowly decaying! WTiere is our vitality? Drained to the
outworlds! We have bled our life away! On Earth remain the sickly,
the depraved, the cryptic thinkers, the sunset wanderers on the mud
flats, the paranoids and involutes, the great epicures, the timid
dreamers, the medievalists."

"You have traveled the Oikumene?" Gersen inquired.

"Never has my foot lost contact with the soil of Earth!"

406 THE DEMON PRINCES

"In which of the categories, then, are you included?"

Navarth waved his arms on high. "Have I not inveighed against
categories? Here is the Celestial Harmony Cafe! We arrive at the
peak of the evening!"

They entered, threaded their way to a table, and Navarth in-
stantly ordered a magnum of champagne. The cafe was crowded;

voices, clatter, and shuffle competed with boisterous jigs played by
an orchestra of fife, concertina, euphonium and banjo while the
clientele danced, cavorted, kicked and pranced after the modes fa-
miliar to them. A long bar on a level somewhat higher than the
main floor ran the width of the building. Men standing at the railing
were silhouetted against the orange and green lights of the bar. At
the tables of the main floor sat men and women of every age, race,
social condition and degree of sobriety. Most wore European gar-
ments, but a few displayed the costumes of other regions and other
worlds. Hostesses formal and self-appointed roved here and there,
soliciting drinks, dispensing ribald repartee, arranging assignations.
The musicians presently took up other instruments: a baritone lute,
viola, flute and tympanet, with which they accompanied a troupe
of tumblers. Navarth drank champagne with indefatigable zest.

Zan Zu from Eridu looked this way and that, whether from
interest, uneasiness, or a sense of suffocation Gersen could not be
sure. Her knuckles were white where she held the goblet. She
turned her head suddenly, met his gaze; her lips quivered in the
faintest possible ghost of a smile—or an embarrassed grimace. She
raised the goblet, and sipped her champagne.

Navarth's gayety was at its height. He sang to the music, tapped
the table with his fingers, reached to embrace the hostesses, who
sidestepped with an air of boredom.

As if struck by a new thought he turned to consider Zan Zu,
then inspected Gersen, as if puzzled why Gersen were not more
enterprising. Gersen could not resist another glance at Zan Zu, and
whether through wine, the colored lights, the ambiance of the eve-
ning, the guttersnipe tossing pebbles from a dock was gone. Gersen
stared at her. The transformation was astonishing. She was magic,
a creature of entrancing intensity.

Navarth was watching, gayety suddenly abandoned. Gersen
turned, Navarth looked quickly away. What am I up to? Gersen
wondered. What is Navarth up to? ... Reluctantly Gersen rejected

THE PALACE OF LOVE

407

the concepts which had surged up in his mind. He settled back in
his chair.

Zan Zu the girl from Eridu looked somberly down at her gob-
let. With relief? Sadness? Boredom? Gersen was at a loss to decide.
The ways of the girl's mind seemed important indeed. What was
he getting into? he asked himself with a pang of bitter anger. He
glared at Navarth, who met his gaze blandly. Zan Zu sipped her
champagne.

Navarth intoned: "The Vine of Life grows a single melon. The
color of the heart is unknown until the rind is split."

Gersen looked out across the tables. Navarth filled his goblet;

Gersen drank. .. Navarth was right. For a gain so wild, so deli-
cious, so magic, there must be an initial abandon, a burning of
bridges. What of Viole Falushe? What of his basic momentum?
And as if in response to these thoughts, Navarth seized his arm.
"He is here."

Gersen roused himself from his brooding. "WTiere?"

'There. At the bar."

Gersen scanned the line of men who stood along the railing.
Their silhouettes were nearly identical, some looked this way, some
that; some held mugs or flasks; others leaned with elbows on the
railing. "W^ich is Viole Falushe?"

"See the man who watches the girl? He can see no one else.
He is fascinated."

Gersen searched along the line of men. None seemed to be
paying any great attention. Navarth whispered in a husky voice:

"She knows! She is even more aware than I!"

Gersen glanced at the girl who seemed uneasy; her fingers fum-
bled with the stem of the goblet. As he watched, she glanced across
the room at one of the dark shapes. How she had divined the at-
tention was beyond Gersen's comprehension.

A waiter approached the girl and spoke into her ear: Gersen
could not hear what was said. Zan Zu looked down at the cham-
pagne goblet, twisting the stem between her fingers . .. She came
to some decision, and putting her hands on the table she rose. Ger-
sen felt a surge of passion. Ignoble to sit quietly, to allow this to
happen. He had been affronted. He was being pillaged of something
which, while it had never belonged to him, nevertheless was his
own. With a spasm of terror he wondered if it were too late. He
lurched forward. He put his arm around the girl's waist, drew her

408 THE DEMON PRINCES

down upon his lap. She gave him an astounded glance, like one
suddenly waking from sleep. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Why not?"

Gersen could not bring himself to speak. Zan Zu sat passively,
if somewhat primly. Gersen noticed that there were tears in her
eyes, that her cheeks were wet. Gersen kissed her cheek; Navarth
gave vent to a mad cachinnation. "Never, never does it end!"

Gersen put Zan Zu back on her chair, but held his hand over
hers. "What never will end?" he asked in an even voice.

"I too have loved. But what of that? The time for love is past.
Now there will be trouble, of course. Do you not understand the
sensitivity of Viole Falushe? He is as strange and delicate as a fern
frond. He cannot bear deprivation; it sets his teeth on edge and
makes him ill."

"This did not occur to me."

"You have acted altogether wrongly," scolded Navarth. "His
thoughts were totally for the girl. You need only have followed her,
and there would have been Viole Falushe."

"Yes," muttered Gersen. "True—true. I now understand that."
He glowered at the wine goblet, then back at the line of silhouettes.
Someone was watching; he could sense the attention. There was
trouble on the way. He was not in optimum condition, he had not
trained in weeks. Additionally he was half drunk.

A man walking past seemed to slip. He reeled into the table,
and upset wine into Gersen's lap. He looked into Gersen's face with
eyes the color of bone. "Did you trip me, you sneak? I've a mind
to spank you like a child."

Gersen studied the man. He had a slab-sided face, close-
cropped yellow hair, a short neck as wide as his head. His body was
stocky and muscular, the body of a man who spent much of his life
on one of the heavy planets. "I don't believe I tripped you," said
Gersen. "But sit down. Join us for a glass of wine. Ask your friend
to join us as well."

The white-eyed man paused to consider a moment. He came
to a decision- "I demand an apology!"

"Certainly," said Gersen. "It was on the tip of my tongue. If
in any way I am responsible for causing you inconvenience, I am

»i

sorry.

"This is not enough. I despise foul baboons like yourself who

THE PALACE OF LOVE 409

insult one, then think to smirk themselves free of the conse-
quences."

"This is your privilege," said Gersen. "Despise whom you like.
But why not bring your friend over to join us? We could find much
to talk about. You are from which world?" He raised his glass to
drink.

The white-eyed man struck down the glass. "I insist that you
leave the premises. You have offended me sufficiently."

Gersen looked across the white-eyed man's shoulder. "Your
friend comes, in spite of your asinine braying."

The white-eyed man turned to look, Gersen kicked at his knee,
hacked into the bulwark of a neck. Seizing one of the man's arms,
Gersen heaved and sent him spinning across the dance floor. The
white-eyed man bounced erect without effort, and came back in a
running crouch. Gersen pushed a chair into his face; the white-eyed
man swept it aside, while Gersen struck him in the stomach. This
was ribbed with muscle and hard as oak. The white-eyed man
hunched his shoulders, jumped for Gersen, but four bouncers had
appeared. Two propelled Gersen to the rear entrance and ejected
him; two more escorted the white-eyed man to the front entrance.

Gersen stood disconsolately in the street. The entire evening:

a botchery. What had got into him?

The white-eyed man might well be circling the building to find
him. Gersen stepped back into the shadows. After a moment he
started cautiously around to the front. At the corner waited the
white-eyed man. "Dog's meat. You kicked me, you struck me. It is
my turn."

"Best that you go your way," said Gersen in a mild voice. "I
am a dangerous man."

"WTiat do you think of me?" The white-eyed man approached;

Gersen backed away, in no mood for roughhousing. He carried
weapons, but on Earth killing was not taken lightly. The white-
eyed man sidled forward. Gersen's heel came in contact with a
bucket. He picked it up, slung it into the man's face, and was
quickly around the corner. The white-eyed man came after him.
Gersen held out his hand to display his projac. "See this? I can kill
you."

The white-eyed man stood back, teeth glinting in contempt.

Gersen went to the front entrance of the Celestial Harmony
Cafe, the white-eyed man following at a distance of thirty feet.

410 TIIF DFMON PRINCES

The table was vacant. Navarth and Zan Zu were gone. The
lounging figure at the railing^ Lost among the others.

The white-eyed man waited beside the building. Gersen re-
flected a moment. Then slowly, as if in reverie, he moved off down
the boulevard and turned into a dark side street

He waited. A minute passed. Gersen slid twenty feet farther
along to a more favorable position, all the time watching the gap
where street met boulevard. But no one passed in front, no one
came to investigate.

Gersen waited ten minutes, watching both ways, and presently
craning his neck to peer up, on the chance that his enemy was
coming over the roofs. At last he returned to the boulevard. The
botchery was complete. The white-eyed man, the most immediate
link with Viole Falushe, had not bothered to pursue Gersen's ac-
quaintance

Seething with frustration, Gersen rode out Boulevard Castel
Vivence to the Fitlmgasse. The tug had departed; the houseboat,
once more sound of hull, rode dark and silent on the water. Gersen
alighted from the cab, went out to stand on the dock. Silence
Lights from Dourrai glinted on the estuary.

Gersen shook his head in mournful amusement. What more
could be expected from an evening with a mad poet and a girl from
Eridu^

He returned to the cab and was conveyed to the Rembrandt
Hotel.

The girl I met in Endu
Was kind beyond belief;

The hours that I spent with her
Were hours far too brief.

WTiere willows shade the river bank,
She urged that I recline.
She fed me figs and poured me full
Of pomegranate wine.

I told of force and time and space,
I told of hence and yonder;

I asked if she would come with me
To know my worlds of wonder.

She clasped her knees; her voice was soft:

"It dazes me to ponder

The blazing stars and tintamars,

The whirling ways you wander!

"You are you and I am I,
And best that you return.
And I will stay in Endu
With all this yet to learn."

—Navarth

At ten o^clock the following morning Gersen returned to the
houseboat. All was changed. The sun was yellow and warm. The
sky, shining blue with the blue of Earth, was necked here and there

4!2 THE DF.MON PRINCES

with fair-weather clouds. Navarth sat hunched on his foredeck, sun-
ning himself.

Gersen descended the ladder, walked along the landing. He
stopped by the gangplank. "Ahoy. May I come aboard?"

Navarth slowly turned his head, inspected Gersen with the
hooded yellow eyes of a sick chicken. He shifted his gaze to watch
a string of barges sliding silently along on jets of ionized water. He
spoke in an even voice. "I have no sympathy for persons of weak
liver, who raise their sails only to drift downwind."

Gersen took the remark as implicit permission to board the
boat. "Mv shortcomings aside, what eventuated?"

Navarth querulously brushed away the question. "We have
strayed. The quest, the undertaking—"

"What quest? What undertaking?"

"—leads by a devious route. First there is sunlight. The road
is broad and white, but soon it narrows. At the end is an awesome
tragedy. A thousand mind-splitting colors, possibly the sunset. If I
were young once more, how I would alter events. I have been blown
by winds like a bit of trash. You will find it the same. You failed to
seize the occasion. Each chance comes a single time—"

Gersen found the remarks uninspiring. "All this to the side, did
you speak last night to Viole Falushe?"

Navarth raised a skinny hand in the air, the palm cupped for-
ward. "Tumult, a reel of shapes. Angry faces, flashing eyes, a strug-
gle of passions' I sat with a roaring in my ears."

"What then of the girl?"

"I agree in every respect. Magnificent."

"Where is she? Who is she?"

Navarth's attention became fixed upon an object in the water:

a white and gray seagull. Evidently he planned no meaningful re-
sponses.

Gersen went on patiently: "WTiat of Viole Falushe? How did
vou know he would be at the Celestial Harmony Cafe?"

"Nothing could be simpler. 1 told him that we would be there."

"WTien did you inform him?"

Navarth made a fretful movement. "Your questions are tire-
some. Must I set my watch by yours? Must I wisely consult with
you? Must I~"

"The question seemed simple enough."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 413

"We live by different referents. Transpose, if you like; I can-
not."

Navarth was plainly in a cantankerous mood. Gersen said
soothingly, "Well then, for one reason or another, we missed Viole
Falushe last night. How do you suggest that we find him now?"

"I make no more suggestions ... What is your concern with
Viole Falushe?"

"You forget that I have already explained this to you."

"To be sure .. . Well, as to arranging a meeting, this is no great
problem. We will invite him to a small entertainment. A banquet
perhaps."

Something in Navarth's tone, or perhaps the quick glittering
glance which accompanied the words, put Gersen on his guard.

"You think he would attend?"

"Certainly, if it were a carefully planned affair."

"How can you be sure? How do you know definitely that he is
on Earth?"

Navarth raised a monitory finger. "Have "you ever watched a
cat walk through the grass? At times it halts, with one paw raised,
and calls out. Is there a reason to these sounds?"

Gersen could not trace the linkage of ideas. He said patiently,
"WTiat of this party, or banquet, whatever it is to be?"

"Yes, yes, the party!" Navarth had become interested now. "It
must be exquisitely arranged, and it will cost a great deal. A million
SVU."

"For one party? One banquet? Who is to be invited? The pop-
ulation of Sumatra?"

"No. A small affair of twenty guests. But arrangements must
be made and quickly. I am a source, an inspiration for Viole Fa-
lushe. In sheer majesty he has excelled me. But I will prove that in
a smaller compass I am superior. WTiat is a million SVU? I have
dreamed away more than this in an hour."

"Very well," said Gersen. "You shall have your million." A
day's income, he reflected.

"I will need a week. A week is hardly enough. But we dare delay
no longer."

"Why not?"

"Viole Falushe returns to the Palace of Love."

"How do you know?"

Navarth looked off across the water. "Do you realize that a

THE DEMON PRINCES

414

crook of my finger disturbs the farthest star? That every human
thought disturbs the psychic parasphere?"

"This is the source of your knowledge—psychic perturba-
tions?"

"As good a method as any other. But now as to the party, there
are conditions. Art implies discipline; the more excellent the art,
the more rigorous the discipline. Hence, you must concede to cer-
tain limitations."

"What are they?"

"First the money. Bring me a million SVU immediately!"

"Yes, of course. In a sack?"

Navarth gave an indifferent wave of the hand. "Secondly, I am
in charge of arrangements. You may not interfere."

"Is this all?"

"Thirdly, you must conduct yourself with restraint. Otherwise
you will not be invited!"

"I would not care to miss this party," said Gersen. "But I too
will make conditions. First, Viole Falushe must be present."

"Never fear as to that! Impossible to keep him away."

"Secondly, you must identify him to me."

"No need. He will identify himself."

"Third, I want to know how you plan to invite him."

"How else? I call him by telephone, just as I call my other
guests."

"What is his number code?"

"He can be reached by coding SORA-6152."

Gersen nodded. "Very well. I will bring you your money at
once."

Gersen returned to the Rembrandt Hotel, where he had a reflective
lunch. How mad was Navarth? His spasms of lunacy alternated with
periods of canny practicality, both somehow conducing to Na-
varth's convenience. The call code SORA-6152, now; Navarth had
yielded it with suspicious facility . . . Gersen could no longer re-
strain his curiosity. He went to a nearby booth, banked the lens,
touched the buttons. The presentation appeared: the outline of a
startled human face. A voice spoke: "Who calls?"

Gersen frowned, bent his head forward. The voice spoke again:

"Who calls?" It was Navarth's voice.

Gersen said, "I wish to speak to Viole Falushe."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 415

'Who calls?"

"One who wishes to make his acquaintance."

"Please leave your name and call number; in due course you
may receive a return call." And Gersen thought he heard a poorly
suppressed chuckle.

Thoughtfully he left the booth. Galling to be outwitted by a
mad poet. He went to the Bank of Vega, called for and received a
million SVU in cash. He packed the notes into a case, returned by
cab out Boulevard Castel Vivence to the Fitlmgasse. As he alighted
he saw Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu, emerging from a fishmonger's
shop with a paper cornucopia full of fried smelt. She wore her black
skirt, her hair was a tousle, but some of the magic of two nights
before still hung about her. She went to sit on an old baulk, and
looking out across the estuary munched the fish. Gersen thought
she appeared tired, listless, a trifle haggard. He proceeded to the
houseboat.

Navarth took the money with a noncommittal grunt. "The
party then, seven days hence."

"Have you issued invitations?"

"Not yet. Leave all to me. Viole Falushe will be among the
guests."

"I presume you will call him at SORA-6152?"

"Of course." Navarth nodded three times, with great gravity.
"Where else?"

"And Zan Zu—she is to come?"

"Zan Zu?"

"Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu."

"Oh—that one. It might not be wise."

The man's name was Hollister Hausredel; his position: registrar at
the Philidor Bohus Lyceum. He was a man of early middle-age,
with an almost total lack of distinguishing characteristics. He wore
modest gray and black and lived in one of the Sluicht apartment
towers with his wife and two small children.

Gersen, deciding that his business with Hausredel would go
best at a maximum distance from the school, approached him as he
left the tube escalator a hundred yards from his apartment building.

"Mr. Hausredel?"

"Yes?" Hausredel was somewhat startled.

"I wonder if we might talk for a moment or two." Gersen in-

416 THK DEMON PRINCKS

dicated a nearby coffee bar. "Perhaps you would have a cup of
coffee with me."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"A matter concerning a service vou can do for me, to vour
profit."

The talk went without difficulty; Hausredel was more flexible
than his superior, Dr. Willern Ledinger. On the following day
Hausredel met Gersen at the coffee bar, with a large paper enve-
lope. "Here we are. All went well. You have the money?"

Gersen passed across an envelope. Hausredel opened the flap,
counted, tested one or two of the notes with his fake-meter. "Good.
I hope I have helped you as much as you have helped me." And
shaking Gersen's hand warmly, he departed the coffee bar.

Gersen opened the envelope. He extracted two photographs
copied from those in the school archives. For the first time Gersen
saw the face ofVogel Filschner. It was a sullen face. Black eyebrows
canted down over burning black eyes, the mouth hung in a discon-
tented droop. Voge) had not been a handsome boy. His nose was
long and lumpy, his cheeks were puffy with hahy fat, his black hair
was overlong and even in the photograph seemed unclean. A more
striking contradiction to the popular image of Violc Falushe was
hard to imagine. But of course this was Vogel Filschner at the age
of fifteen, and many changes had undoubtedly taken place.

The other picture was that of Jheral Tin?y—a delightfully
pretty girl; her black hair glossy—her mouth pursed as if she were
restraining a mischievous secret. Gersen studied the picture at
length. It afforded him rather more perplexity than illumination,
inasmuch as the face in the photograph was almost exactly that of
Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu.

Thoughtfully Gersen examined the remaining material in the
envelope; information regarding other members of Vogel Fil-
schner's class with the present whereabouts—when it was known.

Gersen returned to the picture of Jheral Tinzy. The coquetry
was absent in the face of Zan Zu: otherwise one was a replica of
the other. The resemblance could not be accidental.

Gersen rode bv tube to Station Hedrick in Ambeules and took
the now familiar route up Boulevard Castel Vivence.

The time was early evening; sunset color still lingered along
the estuary. The houseboat was dark; no one responded to Gersen's
rapping. He tested the button: the door slid open.

THE PALACE OF LOVE 417

Gersen entered, the lights came aglow. He went to Navarth's
telescreen. The code, as he had expected, was SORA-6152. The
crafty Navarth! To the side was an index. Gersen looked through
the listings, finding nothing of interest. He scrutinized the wall, the
underside of the shelf, the top molding of the telescreen, on the
chance that Navarth might have noted down a number he did not
care to entrust to his index, but he found nothing. From the shelf
Gersen took down an untidy portfolio, containing ballads, odes,
dithyrambs: "A Growl for Gruel"; "The Juices I Have Tramped";

"I Am a Darting Minstrel"; "They Pass!"; "Drusilla's Dream";

"Castles in the Clouds and the Anxieties of Those Who Live Di-
rectly Below by Reason of Falling Objects and Wastes."

Gersen put the poems aside. He inspected the bedrooms. On
the ceiling of the one occupied by Navarth was the photograph of
a naked woman, twice life-size, arms high and outspread, legs ex-
tended and stretched apart, hair afloat, as if she were engaged in a
vigorous leaping calisthenic. Navarth's wardrobe contained a fan-
tastic assortment of costumes of every style and color; on a shelf
were hats, caps, and helmets. Gersen explored the drawers and cab-
inets, finding many unexpected objects, but none which seemed to
bear upon the matter at hand.

There were two other small bedrooms, furnished in a rather
spartan manner. One of these was pervaded with faint sweet per-
fume: violet, or lilac; in the other was a desk, and here, by a window
overlooking the estuary, Navarth evidently created his poetry. The
desk was crammed with notes, names, apostrophes and allusions—
a discouraging volume of material which Gersen did not even trou-
ble to explore.

He returned to the main saloon and pouring himself a glass of
Navarth's fine moscato, dimmed the lights and settled into the most
comfortable chair.

An hour passed. The last traces of afterglow departed the sky;

the lights of Dourrai glistened on the waves. A dark shape became
visible, a hundred yards offshore—a small boat. It approached the
houseboat; there was the rattle of oars being shipped and footsteps
on the deck. The door slid back. Zan Zu entered the half-dark
saloon. She gasped in fear and sprang back.

Gersen caught her arm. "Wait, don't run away. I've been wait-
ing to talk to you."

Zan Zu relaxed and came into the saloon. Gersen turned up

418 11 IF DFV10N PRINCES

the lights Zan Zu sat warily on the edge of a bench 7 onight she
wore black trousers, a dark blue |acket, her hair was tied back with
black ribbon, her face was white and wan

Gersen looked at her a moment "/\re you hungry:"

She nodded

"Come along then "

In a nearby restaurant she ate with an appetite which nullified
Gersen's doubts as to the state of her health "Navarth calls you
Zan Zu, is that your name7"

"No "

"What is your name7"

"I don't know I don't think I have a name "

"What: No name: Everyone has a name "

"I don't"

"Where do you live: With Navarth:"

"Yes For as long as I remember."

"And he has never told you your name7"

"He has called me by many names," said Zan Zu somewhat
ruefully "I rather like not having a name, I am anyone I wish to
be"

"WT-io would you like most to be7"

She flashed Gersen a sardonic glance, gave her shoulders a
shrug Hardly a talkative girl, thought Gersen.

She asked a sudden question "Why are you interested in me:"

"For various reasons, some complicated, some simple To begin
with, you're a pretty girl "

Zan Zu considered the statement a moment "Do you think so
indeed:"

"Hasn't anyone else told \ou as much:"

"No "

Strange, thought Gersen

"1 talk to very few men Or women Navarth tells me there is
danger "

"What kind of danger:"

"Slavers I don't care to be a slave "

"Understandable Aren't you afraid oi me:"

"A little"

Gersen signaled a waiter After consultation he ordered a large
piece of cherry torte floating in whipped cream, which was set be-
fore Zan Zu from Endu

THE PALACE OF LOVE 419

"Well then," said Gersen, "have you been to school:"

"Not a great deal." Gersen learned that Navarth had taken her
here and there to odd corners of the world remote villages and
islands, gray cities of the north, resorts of Smkiang, the Sahara Sea,
the Levant There had been an occasional tutor, seasons at some-
what unusual schools, much reading of Navarth's books "Not a
very orthodox education," Gersen remarked

"It suits me well enough "

"And Navarth—what is his relationship to you:"

"I don^t know He has always been there Sometimes he is—"
she hesitated "Sometimes he is kind, other times he seems to hate
me..  I don't understand, but then I am not particularly inter-
ested Navarth is Navarth "

"He's never mentioned your parents7"

"Never."

"Haven't you asked him:"

"Oh, yes Several times When he is sober he becomes flam-
boyant Aphrodite rose from seafoam Lilith isas the sister of an ancient
god Arremce sprang to life when lightning struck a rose tree And I may
select a source at my own discretion "

Gersen listened, surprised and amused

"WTien Navarth is drunk, or when he is exalted with poetry,
he tells me more, but perhaps it is less—he frightens me He speaks
of the journey I ask 'journey where:' and he won't say But it must
be something terrible  . I don't want to go "

She fell silent The conversation, so Gersen noticed, had not
diminished the gusto with which she attacked the torte "Has he
ever mentioned a man named Viole Falushe:"

"Perhaps I have not listened "

"Vogel Filschner7"

"No   Who are these men7"

"The same man Using different names Do you remember, at
the Celestial Harmony Cafe, the man who stood by the railing:"

Zan Zu looked down into her coffee cup, gave a slow thoughtful
nod.

"Who was he:"

"I don't know Why do you ask:"

"Because you started to go to him "

"Yes I know."

"W^hy: If you don't know him:"

420 THE DEMON PRINCES

The girl twisted the cup back and forth, watching the swirls of
black liquid. "It's hard to explain. I knew he was watching me. He
wanted me to come. Navarth had brought me there. And you were
there. As if everyone wanted me to go to him. As if I were—some-
thing to be sacrificed. I was dizzy. The room was unsteady. Perhaps
I had drunk too much wine. But I wanted to have it all over with.
If this were mv fate, I would know . .. But you wouldn't let me go.
I remember this much. And I—" She stopped, and took her hands
away from the coffee cup. "Anyway, I know you mean me no
harm."

Gersen said nothing. Zan Zu asked tentatively, "Do you?"

"No. Are you finished?"

They returned to the houseboat, which was as they had left it.
"Where is Navarth?" Gersen asked.

"He prepares for his party. He is tremendously excited. Since
you have come all is different."

"And after I left the Celestial Harmony Cafe the other night,
what happened?"

Zan Zu frowned. "There was talk. It seems there were lights
in my eyes, orange and green blurs. The man came to the table,
and stood looking down at me. He spoke to Navarth."

"Did you look at him?"

"No. I don't think so."

"What did he say to Navarth?"

Zan Zu shook her head. "There was a sound in my ears, like
rushing water, or the roar of the wind. I didn't hear. The man
touched my shoulder."

"And after that—what?"

Zan Zu grimaced. "I don't remember ... I can't remember."

"She was drunk!" cried out a voice. Navarth rushed into the
saloon. "Carefully drunk! What are you doing aboard my private
houseboat?"

"I came to learn how you are spending my money."

"All is as before. Now depart at once."

"Come, come," said Cersen patiently. "This is a cavalier tone
to take with the man who repaired your houseboat."

"After first stoving it in? Bah! Has there ever been an act to
equal it?"

"I understand that in your youth you contrived a few outrages
of your own."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 421

"In my youth?" sputtered Navarth. "I have contrived outrages
all my life!"

"What of the party?"

"It is to be a poetic episode, an exercise in experiential art. I
think it best that you do not attend this particular party, as—"

"WTiat? I'm paying for it! If I don't come, give me back my
money."

Navarth flung himself petulantly into a chair. "I expected you
to take this line."

"I'm afraid so. Where is the party to be held?"

"We meet at the village Kussines, twenty miles to the east. The
rendezvous is precisely at the hour of two in the afternoon, in front
of the inn. You must wear harlequinade and a domino."

"Viole Falushe is to come?"

"Indeed, indeed; have I not made all clear?"

"Not altogether. All are to wear dominoes?"

"Naturally."

"How will I recognize Viole Falushe?"

"What a question to ask. How can he hide? Black radiation
hangs about him. He exudes a dread sensation."

"These qualities may be obvious," said Gersen. "Still—how
else may he be identified?"

"You must determine this at the time. At the moment, I do not
know myself."

At ten minutes before the appointed hour, Gersen parked his
rented air car in a meadow on the outskirts of Kussines and
alighted. A cloak concealed the harlequinade; he carried the domino
in his pocket.

The afternoon was soft and sunny, fragrant with the exhalations
of autumn. Navarth could hardly have hoped for a finer day,
thought Gersen. He checked his garments carefully. The harle-
quinade offered little scope for concealment, but Gersen had made
the best of the situation. Inserted horizontally into his belt was a
blade of thin keen glass, the buckle serving as a handle. Under his
left arm hung a projac; in his right sleeve was poison. Thus encum-
bered, Gersen swept his cloak about him and marched into the
village—a collection of ancient black iron and melt-stone structures
on the shore of a small lake. The setting was bucolic and charming,
almost medieval; the inn, perhaps the newest structure of the vil-
lage, was at least four hundred years old. As Gersen approached, a
young man in gray and black stepped forward. "For the afternoon
party, sir?"

Gersen nodded and was led to a dock at the edge of the lake,
where a canopied boat awaited. "Domino, please," said the young
man in uniform. Gersen donned the mask, stepped aboard the boat
and was conveyed to the opposite shore.

It seemed that he was one of the last to arrive. At a semicircular
buffet stood perhaps twenty other guests, all self-conscious in their
costumes. One who could only be Navarth came forward, divested
Gersen of his cloak. "While we wait, taste this vintage; it is supple
and light and will amuse you."

Gersen took the wine and stepped aside. Twenty men and

THE PALACE OF LOVE 423

women: which was Viole Falushe? If he were present, he was not
readily apparent- A slender young woman stood stiffly nearby, hold-
ing her goblet as if it contained vinegar. Navarth had allowed Zan
Zu to the party after all, thought Gersen. Or dragooned her into
coming, to judge by her attitude. He counted. Ten men, eleven
women. If parity of sexes were to be observed, there still remained
at least one man to arrive. Even as Gersen counted the white-
canopied punt drifted into the dock; a man stepped ashore. He was
tall, lean; his manner combined indolent ease with taut wariness.
Gersen inspected him carefully. If this were not Viole Falushe, he
must be considered the most likely candidate. The man slowly ap-
proached the group. Navarth hurried forward with a crouch that
was almost servile and took the cloak which the man tossed to him.
With the cloak hung on its peg, a goblet of wine in the newcomer's
hand, Navarth's ebullience returned. He waved his arms, walked
back and forth with long springing strides- "Friends and guests, all
are now arrived: a chosen group of nymphs and undergods, poets
and philosophers. Notice, as we stand here in the meadow, our
patterns of orange and red, and black and red; we contrive an un-
conscious pavan! We are performers, participants and spectators at
the same time. The frame within which spontaneity is confined—
the theme, so to speak—is that which I have ordained; the varia-
tions, and intricacies, counterplay and development is our mutual
concern. We must be subtle and free, carefully reckless, at all times
consonant; our figures must never leave the chord!" Navarth held
his goblet up to a shaft of sunlight, drank with a grand flourish,
then pointed dramatically through the trees. "Follow me!"

Fifty yards away was a charabanc with a tasselled yellow canopy,
the sides enameled in red, orange and green. Benches cushioned in
bright orange plush ran along the sides. In the center kneeling mar-
ble satyrs supported a marble slab on which were dozens of bottles
of every size, shape and color, all containing the same soft wine.

The guests climbed aboard, the charabanc slid off, silent and
easy on its repulsion skids.

Through a beautiful park drifted the charabanc. Magnificent
vistas opened on all sides. The guests gradually discarded restraint;

there was conversation and laughter, but for the most part all were
content to sip the wine and enjoy the autumn scenery.

Gersen scrutinized each man in turn. The last man to arrive
still seemed the most likely candidate for the identity of Viole Fa-

THE, DI-'.MON PRINCES

424

lushe; Gersen thought of him as Possibility No. 1. But at least four
others were tall, lean, dark and composed—Possibilities No. 2, No.
3, No. 4 and No. 5.

The charabanc halted; the group stepped down into a meadow
sprinkled with purple and white asters. Navarth, hopping and skip-
ping like a young goat, led the group under a grove ot tall trees.
The time was now about three o'clock; afternoon sunlight slanted
through the masses of golden leaves, to play upon a great nig of
tan and golden silk with a border of gray-greens and blues. Beyond
stood a silken pavilion supported by white spiral poles.

Spaced around the rug -were twenty-two tall peacock-tail chairs.
Beside each stood an antique tabouret of ebony inlaid with mother-
of-pearl and cinnabar, with a vermilion bowl of crystallized spice
on each. Working by some mysterious rationale Navarth arranged
his guests in the splendid chairs. Gersen found himself at one end
of the rug with Zan Zu several chairs distant, and the five possi-
bilities at the far side. From somewhere came music, or more ac-
curately near-music: a succession of wry quiet chords, sometimes
so soft as to be unheard, sometimes so complex as to be equivocal
and perplexing, never completing or fulfilling a progression, always
of a haunting sweetness.

Navarth took his own place, and all sat quietly. From the pa-
vilion came ten young girls naked but for golden slippers and yellow
roses over their ears. They bore trays on which were goblets of
heavy green glass, containing the same delicate wine as before.

Navarth remained in his chair; the other guests were content
to do likewise. Sun-drenched yellow leaves floated down to the
golden rug; an aromatic odor hung in the air. Gersen sipped his
wine cautiously; he could not afford to be lulled, soothed. Close at
hand was Viole Falushe, a situation for which he had paid a million
SVU. The sly Navarth had not kept the letter of his promise.
Where was the "aura of black radiation" Navarth had mentioned?
It seemed to hang heaviest around Possibilities No. 1, No. 2 and
No. 3, but in this regard Gersen was disinclined to trust his para-
psychic powers.

A tension, an expectancy began to be felt. Navarth sat crouched
in the chair as if already bemused. The naked girls, dappled by
sunlight and leaf-shadow, poured wine, moving slowly as if walking
under water. Navarth lifted his head, as if hearing a voice or a tar-
off sound. He spoke in an exultant voice, and the vagrant chords

THE PALACE OF LOVE 425

seemed to match themselves to the rhythm of his speech, creating
music. "Some here have known emotion in many phases. No one
can know every emotion, for these are both infinite and fugitive.
Some here are unaware, untouched, unexplored—and know it not.
See me! I am Navarth, called the mad poet! But is not every poet
mad? It is inevitable. His nerves are conductive and transport un-
containable gushes of energy. He fears—how he fears! He feels the
movement of time; between his fingers it is a warm pulsing, as if
he grasped an exposed artery. At a sound—a distant laugh, a ripple
of water, a gust of wind—he becomes sick and faints, because never
in all the extent of time can this sound, this ripple, this gust recur.
Here is the deafening tragedy of the journey which we all under-
take! Would the mad poet want it to be different? Never exulting?
Never desperate? Never clasping life against his bare nerves?" Na-
varth leapt to his feet and danced a jig. "All here are mad poets. If
you would eat, the delicacies of the world await. If you would re-
flect, sit in your chairs and watch the fall of the leaves. Notice how
slow is their motion; here time has slowed on our behalf. If you
would exalt yourself, this magnificent vintage never cloys nor stu-
pefies. If you would explore erotic proximities or middle distances
or indistinct horizons: bowers and dells surround us." His voice
descended an octave; the chords became measured and slow.
"There can be no light without shade, no sound without silence.
Exultation skips along the verge of pain. I am the mad poet, I am
Life! Hence, by the inevitable consequence, Death is here as well.
But where Life cries out its meanings, Death sits quiet. Look then
among the masks!"

And Navarth pointed from one silent harlequin to another
around the circle. "Death is here, Death watches Life. It is not
witless, aimless Death. It is Death with a snuff cap, intent on a
single candle. So do not fear, unless you have cause to fear—"
Navarth turned his head. "Listen!"

From far away came the merry sound of music. It grew louder
and louder still, and into the glade marched four musicians: one
with castanets, one with guitar and two fiddlers—and they played
the most impelling and merry of jigs—enough to set the pulses
racing. Suddenly they stopped short in their music. The castanet
player brought forth a flute, and now the music was of a heart-
breaking melancholy. And playing in this fashion, they moved off
through the trees and presently were lost to hearing. The soft in-

426 TIIF. DEMON PRINCES

decisive chords went on as before, without beginning or end, as
easy and natural as breathing.

Gersen had become uneasy. Circumstances were moving be-
yond his control. In this harlequinade, he felt inept. Was this an-
other ofNavarth's craftv plovs? Were Viole Falushe to stand before
him now and announce himself, Gersen could never act. The au-
tumn air was heavy with haze; the wine had made him maudlin. He
could never spill blood on the magnificent rug of tawny tan and
gold. Nor even on the carpet of golden leaves beyond.

Gersen leaned back in his chair, amused and disgusted with
himself. Very well then, for the moment he would sit and reflect.
Some of the other guests were stirring. Perhaps Navarth's talk of
death had chilled them, for they moved tentatively and carefully.
Gersen wondered to whom Navarth had referred, in his talk of
death . . . The girls moved sedately along the line of chairs, pouring
wine. As one bent near Gersen, he caught the scent of her yellow
rose; straightening, she smiled at him, and passed on to the next
guest.

Gersen drank the wine. He leaned back in the chair. Even if he
had become detached and passionless, he could yet speculate. Cer-
tain of the guests had risen to their feet and leaving their high-
backed chairs, they mingled and talked in soft husky voices.
Possibility No. 1 stood brooding. Possibility No. 2 stared fixedly at
Zan Zu. Possibility No. 3, like Gersen, sprawled in his chair. Pos-
sibilities No. 4 and No. 5 were among those talking.

Gersen looked toward Navarth. What next? Navarth's inten-
tion must extend beyond the instant. What more had he planned?
Gersen called to him. Navarth turned aside reluctantly.

Gersen asked, "Is Viole Falushe here?"

"Tish!" exclaimed Navarth. "You are a monomaniac!"

"I have been told as much before. W^ell, is he here?"

"I invited twenty-one guests. Counting myself, twenty-two are
present. Viole Falushe is here."

"WWiishe?"

"I don't know."

"What? You don't know?" Gersen sat upright, aroused from
his lethargy by Navarth's double-dealing. "We must have no mis-
understanding, Navarth. You accepted a million SVU from me,
agreeing to fulfill certain conditions."

"And I have done so," snapped Navarth. "The simple truth is

THE PAIACV. OF LOVE

427

that I do not know in what semblance Viole Falushe currently
walks. I knew the boy Vogel P'ilschner well. Viole Falushe has al-
tered his face and his manner. He might be one of three or four.
Unless I were to unmask this group, send away those I recognized
until one remained, I could not give you Viole Falushe."

"V^ry well, this we shall do."

Navarth w^uld not submit. "My life might well be slid from
my body by one route or another. I object to this. I am a mad poet,
not a lummox."

"Immaterial. This is how we will act. Be so kind as to summon
your candidates into the pavilion."

"No, no!" croaked Navarth. "It is impossible. There is an easier
way. Watch the girl. He will go to her, and then you will know."

"A half dozen might go to her."

"Then claim her. Only one man would challenge you."

"And if no one challenges?"

Navarth held out his arms. "What can you lose?"

Both turned to look toward the girl. Gersen said, "WTiat can I
lose indeed? What is her relationship to you?"

"She is the daughter of an old friend," declared Navarth
suavely. "She is, in effect, my ward; I have been at pains to nurture
her and bring her nicely to maturity."

"And this now accomplished, you offer her here and there to
passing strangers?"

"The conversation becomes tiresome," said Navarth. "Look. A
man approaches the girl!"

Gersen swung around. Possibility No. 2 had approached Zan
Zu and was talking in a manner unmistakably ardent. Zan Zu lis-
tened politely. As in the Celestial I larmony Cafe, Gersen felt a
surge of emotion: lust? jealousy? protective instinct? Whatever the
nature of the urge, it compelled him to step forward and join the
two.

"You are enjoying the party?" Gersen asked with factitious
good-fellowship. "A wonderful day for such an outing. Navarth is
a magnificent host; still, he has introduced no one to no one. What
is your name?"

Possibility No. 2 answered courteously: "Navarth doubtless has
good reason for the neglect; best that we do not divulge our iden-
tities."

428 THK DEMON PRINCES

"Sensible," said Gersen. He turned to Zan Zu. "Still, what is
your opinion?"

"I have no identity to divulge."

Possibility No. 2 suggested: "Why not approach Navarth and
inquire his thoughts on the subject?"

"I think not. Navarth would become confused. He has pro-
pounded a fallacy. He seems to advocate intimate relationships be-
tween walking costumes. Is this feasible? I doubt it. Certainly not
at the level of intensity Navarth would insist upon."

"Quite so, quite so," said Possibility No. 2. "Be a good fellow
and leave us to ourselves. The young lady and I were enjoying a
private discussion."

"My apologies for interrupting you. But the young lady and I
already had planned to gather flowers from the meadow."

"You are mistaken," said Possibility No. 2. "When all wear
harlequinade, error is easy."

"If there has been an error, it is for the best, as I prefer this
delightful young flower-picker to the last. Be so good as to excuse
us."

Possibility No. 2 was amiability itself. "Really, my good fellow,
your facetiousness has run its course. Surely you must see that you
are intruding?"

"I think not. In a party of this sort, where experience is to be
clasped to the naked nerves, where Death walks, there is wisdom
in flexibility. Notice the woman yonder. She appears loquacious and
prepared to discuss every subject in your repertory. WTly not join
her and chat away to your heart's content?"

"But it is you she admires," said Possibility No. 2 brusquely-
"Be off with you."

Gersen turned to Zan Zu. "Apparently you must make the
choice. Conversation or wildflowers?"

Zan Zu hesitated, looking from one to the other. Possibility
No. 2 fixed her with a gaze of burning intensity. "Choose, if indeed
there is a choice between this lout and myself. Choose—but choose
carefully."

Zan Zu demurely turned to Gersen. "Let us pick flowers."

Possibility No. 2 stared, looked away toward Navarth as if to
call upon him to intercede, then thought better of it and walked
away.

Zan Zu asked, "Are you really anxious to pick wildflowers?"

THE PAf.-SC!': Of- im-'f': 429

"You know who I am?"

"Of course."

"I don't care to pick wildflowers, unless you do."

"Oh . . . What then do you want of me?"

Gersen found the question hard to answer. "I do not know
myself."

Zan Zu took his arm. "Let us go to look for flowers, and per-
haps we will find out."

Gersen looked around the group. Possibility No. 2 watched
from a distance. Possibilities No. 1 and No. 3 appeared to pay them
no heed. They started off through the trees, Zan Zu leaning on his
arm. Gersen put his arm around her waist; she sighed.

Possibility No. 2 gave a quick jerk of the shoulders, and by this
motion seemed to cast off restraint. He came after Gersen with soft
portentous strides; in his hand he carried a small weapon. Behind—
Gersen saw in a near-instantaneous glimpse—stood Navarth, look-
ing after them, his posture a curious superimposition of shame on
glee.

Gersen pushed Zan Zu to the ground, ducked behind a tree.
Possibility No. 2 halted. He turned toward Zan Zu, and to Gersen's
shocked amazement, pointed his weapon. Gersen leapt from behind
the tree and struck the man's arm; the weapon threw a sear of
energy into the ground. The two confronted each other, eyes blaz-
ing with mutual hate ... A shrill blast of whistle. From the forest
came the thud of heavy feet; gendarmes swarmed forth, a dozen or
more, urged by a lieutenant in a golden helmet and a furious old
man in brocaded gray.

Navarth stepped forward haughtily. "What is the meaning of
this intrusion?"

The old man, who was short and overweight, bounded torward
to shake his fist. "What the devil are you up to, trespassing upon
my private property? You are a jackanapes! And these naked girls—
an absolute scandal!"

In a stern voice Navarth demanded of the lieutenant: "WTio is
this old rogue? W^hat right does he have to intrude upon a private
party?"

Now the old man, stepping forward, discerned the rug, and
went pale. "Behold!" he whispered huskily. "My priceless silk Sik-
kim nig! Spread out for these rascals to cavort upon. And my chairs,
oh my precious Bahadurs! W'Tiat else have they stolen?"

430 THE DEMON PRINCFS

"This is balderdash'" stormed Navarth "I have rented these
premises and hired the furniture The owner is Baron Caspar
Heaulmes, who is at a samtonum for his health "

"I am Baron Caspar Heaulmes1" cried the old man. "I do not
know your name, sir, behind that ridiculous mask, but I perceive
you to be a blackguard' Lieutenant, do your duty Take them all
away I insist on the fullest investigation'"

Navarth threw his hands into the air, and argued the case from
a dozen viewpoints, but the lieutenant was inexorable "I fear I must
take all into custody Baron Heaulmes is making a formal com-
plaint "

Gersen, standing to the side, had been watching with great in-
terest, simultaneously noting the movements of Possibilities No 1,
No 2, No. 3. Whichever was Viole Falushe—and it would seem
to be Possibility No 2—he would be sweating heavily at this mo-
ment once he were arrested and taken into court, his identity must
become known

Possibility No 1 stood dour and dismal, Possibility No 2 was
carefully assessing the situation, looking this way and that, Possi-
bility No 3 seemed unconcerned, even amused

The lieutenant by this time had seized Navarth, charging him
with trespass, theft, offenses against public morality and simple as-
sault—the latter arising from his attempt to kick Baron Heaulmes
The remaining gendarmes now commenced to herd the guests to-
ward a pair of carcel-wagons which had descended to the meadow.
Possibility No. 2 loitered at the edge of the group and, taking ad-
vantage of Navarth's obstreperous behavior, slipped behind a tree
Gersen raised up a shout, a pair of gendarmes looked around,
bawled peremptory orders and marched forward to conduct Pos-
sibility No 2 to the carcel-wagons Possibility No 2 jumped back
among the trees, when the gendarmes ran m pursuit, there came a
dire flash of radiation—once, twice, and two men lay dead Possi-
bility No 2 sprinted away through the forest and was lost to view
Gersen gave chase, but halted after a hundred yards, fearing am-
bush

Shedding his mask, he ran to the semicircular buffet beside the
pond, where he found and donned his cloak The punt ferried him
across the lake to the outskirts of Kussmes

Five minutes later he reached his air car and took it aloft He
hovered several minutes, searching the air space If Possibility No

THE PALACE OF LOVL 431

2 had arrived by air car, he must likewise be taking himself aloft.
And also, thought Gersen, patrol craft would be converging on the
scene of the murders One man m harlequinade looked much like
another, the sooner he was gone the better And Gersen flew full
speed back toward Rolingshaven

From the Rolingshaven Mundus:

Kussines, September 30: Two agents of the county
gendarmery this afternoon were murdered by a guest at
a mysterious orgy on the estate of Baron Caspar Heaul-
mes at Kussines. In the confusion attendant upon the
violence, the murderer made good a temporary escape
and is believed to be hiding in the woods. His name
has not yet been made public.

Host and ringleader at the bacchanalian fete was the
notorious poet and free-thinker Navarth, whose esca-
pades have long edified the citizens of Rolingshaven . ..

The article goes on to describe the circumstances of the
murder. The names of the persons taken into custody are
listed.

From the Rolingshaven Mzmdus:

Rolingshaven, October 2: Victim of an inexplicable
attack was lan Kelly, 32, of London, who last night was
waylaid in the Bissgasse and viciously beaten to death.
There is no clue as to the identity of his assailant and
no apparent motive. Ketly figured in the news two days
ago as a guest at the poet Navarth's fantastic party on
the estate of Baron Caspar Heaulmes. Police are work-

THE PALACE OF LOVE

ing on the theory that the two circumstances are con-
nected-
Article for Cosmopolis:

VIOLE FALUSHR

by Navarth

PART I: THE BOY

Notorious as much for his fascinating Palace of Love
as for the ghastly score of his crimes is Viole Falushe, the
Demon Prince. Who is he, what is he? I, perhaps better
than anyone alive, am able to calculate his motives and an-
alyze his acts. I have little knowledge of the man as he is
today. If he were to pass me on the street I would not
recognize him. But I can say this much: judging by Viole
Falushe as a youth, I find the popular concept of Viole Fa-
lushe—which is to say, a man handsome, elegant, gay, ro-
mantic—impossible to credit. The notion is, in fact,
startling and ludicrous.

I first met Viole Falushe when he was fourteen. His
name was then Vogel Filschner. If the man resembles the
boy, his celebrated amours can only have been achieved
through duress or drugs. As all know, I am jealous of my
reputation for dispassionate candor, and to this end inter-
viewed all the women who, as girls, knew Vogel Filschner
well. I withhold their names, for obvious reasons. Repre-
sentative comments:

"a boy preoccupied with every sort of nastiness."

"Vogel was utterly repellent, though there were boys
far uglier than he in our class. Four years I knew him, and
instead of learning to take pains with himself he became
worse."

"I could never bear to sit next to Vogel. He smelled
badly, as if he never changed his socks or his underwear,
I'm sure he never washed his hands and possibly never
bathed."

434 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Vogel Filschner! I suppose it was not all his fault. His
mother must have been a sloven. He had disgusting per-
sonal habits, such as picking his nose and examining the
yield, making queer gulping noises, and above all smelling."

These are representative remarks; indeed, some of the
milder comments. I am a man, above all, fair and judicious;

hence I quote none of the more extravagant anecdotes.

Let me describe Vogel Filschner as I knew him. He was
tall and arachnid, with spindly legs and an unhealthy round
belly. To complete the somewhat spiderlike illusion were
his round cheeks and pink proboscis of a nose. To his credit
he admired my poetry, though I fear that Vogel distorted
my doctrines beyond recognition. I preach augmented ex-
istence; Vogel wanted me to approve his solipsistic ruth-
lessness.

The first occasion I was approached by Vogel Filschner
was at the time of my celebrated contretemps with Dame
Amelie Pallemont-Dalhouse, in connection with my spon-
sorship of her daughter Earline, which of course is a fas-
cinating tale in itself. In any event, Vogel appeared one
morning with some wretched doggerel he had written. It
seems that Vogel's juices were flowing, that he was in love
with a pretty girl who needless to say was far from flattered
by the compliment.. .

The article continued for several pages.

On October 3, Navarth, having paid exemplary damages of SVU
50,000 to Baron Caspar Heaulmes, was discharged from the court,
which likewise dismissed charges against Navarth's guests.

Gersen met Navarth on the mall in front of the Justice Courts.
Navarth at first made as if he would pass without deigning to rec-
ognize Gersen, but Gersen finally was able to divert him to the
table of a nearby cafe.

"Justice, bah!" Navarth made a grimace toward the courts.
"Think of it! Money I must pay that vindictive and sanctimonious
unmentionable. He should have indemnified me! Did he not disrupt
the party? What did he hope to gain, running forth from the forest
like that?" Navarth paused to moisten his throat with the beer Ger-

THE PAIACV. W LOVE 435

sen had ordered. "It is enough to turn a man sour." He set the
mug down with a thump and turned a yellow glance toward Gersen.
"What do you want of me now? Another exercise in bathos? I warn
you, I will not be so malleable a second time."

Gersen displayed the newspaper articles dealing with the event.
Navarth refused to look at them. "A wretched lot of nonsense, sheer
scurrility. You journalists are all alike."

"I notice that yesterday a certain lan Kelly was murdered."

"Yes, poor Kelly. Did you come to the arraignment?"

"No."

"Then you missed your chance, because among the crowd was
Viole Falushe. He is the most sensitive of men and cannot forget
an injury. lan Kelly was unlucky enough to resemble you in size
and manner." Navarth shook his head ruefully. "Ah, that Vogel.
He detests frustration as a bee sting."

"Do the police know the murderer is Viole Falushe?"

"I told them he was a man I met in a bar. What else could I

•' if
sayr

Gersen had no reply to make. He indicated the article once
more. "Twenty names are listed, which refers to Zan Zu?"

Navarth made a contemptuous gesture toward the article. "Se-
lect as you like. One is as accurate as the next."

"One of these names must refer to her," said Gersen.
"Which?"

"How should I know what name she chooses to supply the
police? I believe I will drink more beer. The argument has parched
my throat."

"I see here a 'Drusilla Wavles, age eighteen.' Is this she?"

"Quite possibly, possibly indeed."

"And this is her name?"

"Merciful Kalzibah! Must she own a name? A name is a weight!
A chain to a set of uncontrolled circumstances. To own no name
is to own freedom! Are you so stolid then that you cannot imagine
a person without a name? She is what one chooses to call her."

"Strange," said Gersen. "She exactly resembles the Jheral
Tinzy of thirty years ago."

Navarth jerked back in his chair. "How do you know this?"

"I have not been idle. For example, I have produced this." Ger-
sen produced a dummy CosmopoUs. From the cover looked the face
of young Vogel Filschner superimposed upon the outline of a tall

436 THK DEMON PRINCES

ominous gray figure. Below was the caption: The Young Viole Fa-
lushe, Vogel Filschner As I Knew Him, by Navarth.

Navarth seized the dummy, read the article aghast. He raised
his hands to his head. "He'll kill us all! He'll drown us in dog vomit!
He'll grow trees in our ears!"

"The article seems balanced and judicious," said Gersen. "Cer-
tainly he can take no offense at facts."

Navarth read farther, and went into a new paroxysm of dismay.
"You have signed my name! I never wrote all that!"

"It's all true."

"The more so! When is this to be published?"

"In a week or two."

"Impossible. I forbid it."

"In that case, return me the money I lent you, that you might
finance your party."

"Lent?" Navarth was shocked anew. "That was no loan! You
paid me, you hired me to produce a party, at which Viole Falushe
would be present."

"You did neither. Baron Heaulmes, it is true, truncated your
party, but this is no affair of mine. And where was Viole Falushe?
You can point to the murderer, but this means nothing to me.
Please return the money."

"I cannot, I have spent money like water! And Baron Heaulmes
demanded his pound of flesh."

"Well, return me the nine hundred thousand SVU you have
left."

"WTiat? I have no such sum on hand'"

"Perhaps we can set aside a portion as your payment for this
article, but—"

"No, no! The article must not be published!"

"Best that we have a complete understanding," said Gersen.
"You have not told me all."

"For which I am grateful. You have published the rest." Na-
varth kneaded his forehead, "These have been terrible days. Have
you no pity for poor old Navarth?"

Gersen laughed. "You plotted to get me killed. You knew that
Viole Falushe would attempt to possess Drusilla Wayles, or Zan
Zu, whatever her name. You knew that I would not allow it. lan
Kelly paid his life in my place."

THE PAL/ICE OF l.OVE 437

"No, no, nothing like that. I hoped you would kill Viole Fa-
lushe!"

"You're a devious villain. What of Drusilla, how was she to
fare? Did you consider her?"

"I consider nothing," said Navarth huskily. "I cannot allow my-
self to ponder. If I lifted the partition between my two brains for
so much as an instant—"

"Tell me what you know."

With extreme reluctance Navarth obeyed. "I must go back to
Vogel Filschner once more. When he kidnaped the choral society,
Jheral Tinzy escaped. That you know. But she was the cause of the
crime and the parents of the other girls blamed her. It became very
hard, very rough. There were threats, names called in public . . ."

Navarth had come under similar attack. One day he proposed
to Jheral Tinzv that they run away together. Jheral, bitter and dis-
illusioned, was in a mood for anything. They went to Corfu where
they spent three years, and every day Navarth loved Jheral Tinzy
more ardently than the day previous.

One terrible day Vogel Filschner appeared at the door of their
little villa. He was no longer the old Vogel, though his appearance
was much the same. He stood more erect, but the most striking
change was his new personality. He had become hard, sure, firm;

his eves were bright, his voice assured. Evildoing clearly was good
for him.

Vogel made a great show of amity to Navarth. "Past is past.
Jheral Tinzy? I want nothing from her. She has given herself to
you; she is sullied. I am fastidious in this respect; I take no woman
fresh from another man's use. Be assured, she never will know an
iota of my love . . . She should have waited. Yes. She should have
waited. Because she mi^ht have known I would return . . . But now
my love for Jheral Tinzy is gone."

Navarth was somewhat reassured. He brought out a bottle; they
sat in the garden, ate oranges, drank ouzo. Navarth became very
drunk and fell asleep. WTien he awoke Vogel F'ilschner was gone.
Jheral Tinzy was gone as well.

A day later Vogel Filchner reappeared. Navarth was in a frenzy.
"W^here is she? WTiat have you done with her?"

"She is well and safe." '

"What of your promise? You told me you had no more love
for her."

438 THE DF MON PRINCES

"This is true The promise shall be kept Jheral will never know
my love, nor the love of any other man Do you underestimate my
emotion, poec^ Love can turn to hate in a flicker of time. Jheral
will ser\e, and serve well She would not gratify my love, but she
will appease my hate."

Navarth threw himself at Vogel Filschner, but Vogel vaulted
over the wall, and Navarth was left alone

Nine years later Vole Falushe made contact with Navarth b^
telescreen, but now his face was blanked. Navarth heard only his
voice Navarth asked for the return of Jheral Tmzy, and Viole Fa-
lushe agreed Two days later a child three years old was brought to
Navarth Viole Falushe called again "I have done as I promised
You have Jheral Tmzy again."

'Ts it her daughter2"

"It is Jheral Tmzy, this is all you need know I put her into
your charge Keep her, nurture her, guard her, see that she remains
undefiled—for one day I will return for her " The screen went
dead Navarth turned to inspect the girl Even now he could see
her resemblance to Jheral   What to do7 Navarth considered the
child with mingled emotion He could regard her neither as a
daughter nor as a manifestation of his former love He felt antag-
onism. There would always be a bittersweet ambiguity in their re-
lationship, for Navarth was unable to love impersonally, the object
of his love must relate to himself.

Navarth exemplified his contradicting impulses in his rearing
of the girl He fed her, provided shelter, both of the most casual
and desultory sort Otherwise the girl was independent She became
moody and uncommunicative, she made no friends and presently
gave up asking questions.

As she matured, her resemblance to Jhera! Tmzy became ever
more striking She was Jheral Tmzy indeed, and her presence tor-
mented Navarth with memories of the past

A dozen years passed, but Viole Falushe had made no appear-
ance Still Navarth never dared hope that Viole Falushe had for-
gotten, indeed he became ever more obsessed with the certainty
that Viole Falushe would presently arrive and take the girl away
He tried from time to time to acquaint the girl with the danger
represented by Viole Falushe, but his approach varied with his
mood, and he was never sure that she understood him. He at-
tempted to seclude her, a task rendered difficult by the girl's un-

THE PALACE OF LOVE 439

predictable habits, and he took her off to remote corners of the
Earth

When the girl was sixteen, they lived in Edmonton, Canada,
the goal of hordes of pilgrims who came to gaze upon the Sacred
Shin Navarth reasoned that here, among the interminable festivals,
processions and sacerdotal rites, they might well live unnoticed.

But Navarth was wrong. Viole Falushe by some means knew
his whereabouts One night the telescreen lit up to show a tall figure
standing against a flashing blue background which obscured his fea-
tures Navarth, nevertheless, recognized Viole Falushe and despon-
dently called out "Show" to the telescreen

"Well, Navarth," said Viole Falushe, "what do you do m the
Holy City^ Have you become a devout Kalziban that you live al-
most in the shadow of the Shin5"

"I study," muttered Navarth "I derive a sense of purpose from
the pervasive zeal "

"And what of the girP I refer to Jheral She is well, I trust5"

"She was in fair condition last evening I haven't seen her

since

Viole Falushe stared fixedly at Navarth, with only the glitter of
his eyes giving dimension to his silhouette "Is she pure5"

"How would I know3" demanded Navarth crossly "I can't
watch her day and night In any event, what affair is it of yours5"

If anything, the intensity of Viole Falushe's glance increased
"It is my affair in all respects, to such a degree that you would

never imagine'

"Your language is extravagant," sniffed Navarth "I can hardly
believe you to be serious "

Viole Falushe laughed softly "Someday you will visit the Palace
of Love, old Navarth, someday you will be my guest "

"Not I'" declared Navarth "I am a new Antaeus, never may I
detach my toe from Earth, if necessary I will fall flat on my face
and cling with both hands'"

"Well then, summon the girl Call Jheral before the screen so
that I may see her." An odd note had entered Viole Falushe's voice
sweetness and tenderness burdened with an almost insupportable
rage

"How can I call her when I don't know her whereabouts2 She
may be prowling the streets, or canoeing on the lake, or lying in
someone's bed—"

440 THE DEMON PRINCES

A hoarse sound interrupted Navarth. But Viole Falushe's voice
was mild. "Never say that, old Navarth. She was given into your
care; I intended that you give her proper instruction. Have you
done so? I suspect not."

"The best instruction is living itself," declared Navarth bluffly.
"I am no pedant, as you well know."

There was a moment's silence. Then Viole Falushe said: "Do
you know why I put the girl in your care?"

"My own motivations confuse me," said Navarth. "How should
I know yours?"

"I will tell you. Because you know me well, you know what I
require without explicit instructions."

Navarth blinked. "I had not considered the matter in this

light."

"Then, old Navarth, you are remiss."

"I have heard this accusation a hundred times."

"But now you know what I expect. I hope you will repair your
neglect."

The screen went dead. Navarth in a fury of frustration and
resentment went striding out along the Great Nave, that avenue
extending from the Plaza of Beatitudes to the Temple of the Shin.
But the press of pilgrims irked him, and he took refuge in a tea-
house, where he drank four cups of strong tea before he was suf-
ficiently composed to think.

Specifically, Navarth wondered, what did Viole Falushe expect?
He had a romantic interest in the girl, he wanted her inculcated,
preconditioned, receptive- Navarth could not restrain a wild cackle
of mirth, which aroused surprised glances from the other patrons
of the teahouse, most of them black-clad pilgrims.

Viole Falushe wanted him to make the girl conscious of the
great honor which awaited her; he wanted her preconditioned, pre-
disposed, already fervent. . . The pilgrims, fresh from ceremonies
at the temple, were regarding him with suspicion. Navarth jumped
to his feet and departed the tearoom. There was no further reason
to remain in Edmonton. As soon as possible he took the girl back
to Rolingshaven.

Once or twice he mentioned Viole Falushe to the girl, in a tone
of dejection, for now he had come to think of the girl as doomed;

to such effect that on one occasion the girl ran away. Fortuitously
the event occurred immediately before one of Viole Falushe's visits

THE PALACE OF LOVE 441

to Earth. When he telephoned Navarth demanding to see the girl,
Navarth was forced to blurt forth the truth. Viole Falushe spoke in
a mild voice: "Best that she be found, Navarth."

But Navarth made no attempt to find the girl until he was sure
Viole Falushe had departed from Earth—here Gersen interposed a
question: "How could you be sure?"

Navarth attempted to evade the question, but finally admitted
that Viole Falushe, during his visits to Earth, could be telephoned
at a particular code number. "Then you could call him now?"

"Yes, yes, of course," snapped Navarth. "If I wanted to do so,
which I do not." He continued his story, but now he became cau-
tious, using many flamboyant gestures, shirting his yellow glance all
around with only an occasional brief flicker for Gersen.

It seemed that when Gersen appeared on the scene, Navarth
sensed that here might be a weapon to be used against Viole Fa-
lushe (an aspect to the account Navarth left unspoken). With the
utmost caution, committing no overt acts, always leaving himself
lines of retreat, Navarth tried to arrange for the discomfiture or
destruction of Viole Falushe. Events however superseded his plans.
"And now," quavered Navarth, pointing a long finger at the Cos-
mopolis dummy, "this!"

"You believe Viole Falushe would react unfavorably to the ar-
ticle?"

"Indeed, indeed! He is the least forgiving of men; it is the key
to his soul!"

"Perhaps then we had best discuss the article with Viole Falushe
himself."

"What benefit can derive from that? He will merely have more
time to generate a suitable response."

Gersen pondered. "Well then, it seems that we had best publish
the article in its present form."

"No, no!" cried Navarth. "Have 1 not made all clear? He would
punish us in equivalence to his annoyance, and he uses a subjective
judgment! This article would offend him to an unprecedented fury;

he hates his childhood, he only comes to Ambeules to gloat and
work mischief on his old enemies. Do you know what happened to
Rudolph Radgo, who jeered at Vogel Filschner's pimples? Rudolph
Radgo's face is a garden of carbuncles, through Sarkovy poison.
There was Maria, who moved her seat because Vogel's rheums and
snivelings upset her. Maria now lacks all trace of a nose. Twice she

442 THE DEMON PRINCES

has had grafts, twice she has suffered the loss of her new member;

she is not to have a nose for all her life. So you see, it is not wise
to offend Viole Falushe . .." Navarth craned his neck. "What are
you writing?"

"This is interesting new material; I am incorporating it into the
article."

Navarth threw his hands up so wildly that his chair almost over-
turned, "Have you no prudence?"

"Perhaps if we discussed the article with Viole Falushe he might
authorize its publication."

"It's you who are mad, not I!"

"We can only try."

"Very well," croaked Navarth. "I have no choice. But I warn
you, I disavow all connection with the article!"

"As you wish. Shall we make our call here, or at the house-
boat?"

"At the houseboat."

They left the plaza, rode the tube to Ambeules, and were con-
veyed to the Fitlingasse by surface wagon.

The houseboat floated, serene and quiet, on the estuary.
"Where is the girl?" asked Gersen. "Zan Zu, Drusilla, whatever
her name?"

Navarth refused to answer. Gersen's question, so he implied,
was like asking the color of the wind. He hopped on down the
ladder, jumped aboard the boat, and with a desperate, tragic ges-
ture, flung wide the door. He stalked to the telescreen, pushed
buttons, and spoke a muffled activating word. The presentation
sprang to life: a single frail lavender flower. Navarth turned to look
at Gersen. "He is available; when off Earth the pattern is blue."

They waited. From the telescreen came a wisp of tender mel-
ody, then after a moment or two a voice: "Ah Navarth, my ancient
companion. With a friend?"

"Yes, an urgent matter. This is Mr. Henry Lucas representing
Cosmopolis magazine."

"A journal with an honored tradition! But have we not met?
There is about you a disturbing familiarity."

"I was on Sarkovy recently," said Gersen. "As I recall, your
name was in the air."

"A miasmic planet, Sarkovy. Nevertheless, one with a certain
macabre beauty."

THE PALACE OF LOVE

Navarth spoke. "I have had a misunderstanding with Mr. Lucas,
and I wish specifically to disavow responsibility for his actions."

"My dear Navarth, you alarm me. Mr. Lucas is surely a man
of courtesy."

"You shall see."

"As Navarth has mentioned I work for Cosmopolis," said Gersen.
"In fact I am a senior official. One of our writers prepared a rather
sensational article. I suspect the writer of over-enthusiasm and
therefore checked with Navarth, who reinforced my doubts. It
seems that the writer came upon Navarth in an exalted mood, and
on the basis of a casual word, he went to enormous lengths of
research and produced the article."

"Ah, yes, the article. You have it with you?"

Gersen displayed the dummy. "It is included here. I insisted on
checking the facts, apparently to good avail. Navarth insists that
our writer took the most extreme liberties. He feels that in all fair-
ness you should be allowed to authenticate the article before pub-
lication."

"Sound notion, Navarth' Well then, allow me to examine this
alarming effusion; I'm sure it can't be all that grim."

Gersen slipped the magazine into the transcription rack. Viole
Falushe read. From time to time he made sudden apparently in-
voluntary noises: hisses between the teeth, small throaty sounds.
"Turn the page, please." His voice was light and mild. Presently
he said: "Yes. I have finished." There was a moment's silence, then
he spoke again, and now the voice, superficially jocular, rang with
a tinny overtone. "Navarth, you have been sing-ularly reckless, even
for an exhilarated poet."

"Bah," muttered Navarth. "Did I not disassociate myself from
this entire farrago?"

"Not completely. I notice matters which are magnified and dis-
torted in a manner possible only to a mad poet. You have been
indiscreet."

Navarth said bravely, "Candor is never indiscreet. Truth, which
is to say, the reflection of life, is beautiful."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," said Viole Falushe. "I
for one find little beauty in this abusive article. Mr. Lucas is quite
correct in seeking my reaction. The article may not be published."

For some fantastic reason Navarth saw fit to grumble. "What
good is notoriety if your friends are unable to profit from it?"

I HE DEMON PRINCES

444

"Exploitation of notoriety and humiliation of your friends are
not identical," spoke the mild voice "Can you imagine my distress
if this article appeared and exposed me to ridicule? I would be
forced to demand amends for all concerned, which is only simple
)ustice Since by an act ot yours, my feelings are injured, then by
other acts you must atone until my feelings are whole again. It is
not enough to assert that I am oversensitive If you hurt me, then
you must assuage the hurt, no matter how disproportionate the
effort "

"Truth reflects the cosmos," argued the mad poet "To ex-
punge truth, one must destroy the cosmos This is the dispropor-
tionate act "

"Aha'" declared Viole Falushe "But the article is not neces-
sarily truth' It is a point of view, an image or two snatched out of
context. I, the person most intimately concerned, denounce the
point of view as a flagrant distortion "

"I would like to make a suggestion," said Gersen "Why not
allow Cosmopolis to present the real facts, or that is to say, the facts
from your own point of view^ No doubt you have a statement to
make to the folk of the Oikumene, who are fascinated by your
exploits, whether or not they approve of them "

"No, I think not," said Viole Falushe "Such an article would
seem self-inflation or worse, a rather spurious apologia. Basically I
am a modest man "

"But are you not an artist as welP"

"Certainly On the truest and noblest scale Artists before me
have conveyed their assertions by abstract symbology, the spectators
or audience has always been passive I use a more poignant sym-
bology, essentially abstract but palpable, visible and audible—in
short a symbology of events and environments There are no spec-
tators, no audience, no passivity There are only participants They
encounter experience at its keenest No man has dared conceive on
so vast a scope before " Here Viole Falushe gave a slow strange
chuckle "With the exception, perhaps of my megalomaniac con-
temporary Lens Larque, though his concepts are less fluid than my
own But I dare to say it I am perhaps the supreme artist of history
My sub)ect is Life, my medium is Experience, tools are Pleasure,
Passion, Pungence, Pain. I arrange the total environment, in order
to suffuse the total entity f! his of course is the rationale of my
estate, popularly known as the Palace of Love "

THE PALACE OF LOVE

445

Gersen nodded sagely "Precisely what the folk of the Oiku-
mene are anxious to learn' Rather than publish a vulgar expose of
this sort"—Gersen tapped the dummy with the back of his hand—
"'Cosmopohs would like you to explain your thesis We want pho-
tographs, charts, odor swatches, sound impressions, portraits—
above all we want your expert analysis "

"Possible, possible "

"Good. To this end let us meet together Name a time and
place, and I will be there "

"The place7 Where else7 The Palace of Love Each year I wel-
come a group of guests You shall be in the current contingent, and
mad old Navarth as well "

"Not I'" protested Navarth "My feet have never yet lost con-
tact with Earth, I do not care to risk the clarity of my vision "

Gersen also demurred. "The invitation, though tempting, is not
particularly convenient I would prefer to meet you tonight, here
on Earth "

"Impossible On Earth I have enemies, on Earth I am a shadow
No man can point and say, there stands Viole Falushe—not even
my dear friend Navarth, from whom I have learned much of value
A lovely party, that, Navarth' Magnificent, worthy of a mad poet
However, I am disappointed in the girl I gave you to nurture, and
I am disappointed in you. You have exercised neither the tact, the
imagination, nor the creative direction for which I had hoped. Con-
sider the girl in the light of what she is and what she might be' I
had expected a new Jheral Tmzy gay and grave, sweet as honey,
tart as lime, with a brain full of stars, ardent yet innocent What
do I find3 A wanton, a hoyden, a sour-faced ragamuffin, completely
irresponsible and undiscernmg Imagine' In preference to me, she
chose a certain lan Kelly, an insolent, unworthy person, far better
dead I find the situation incomprehensible The girl clearly had
not been well-trained Surely she knows of me and my interest in
her?"

"Yes," said Navarth mulishly. "I have pronounced your name "

"Well, I am not quite satisfied, and I am sending her elsewhere
for corrective training by less gifted but more disciplined tutors I
think it likely that she will join us at the Palace of Love— Ah,
Navarth, you spoke^'

"Yes," said Navarth in a dull voice "I have decided to advan-
tage myself of your invitation I will visit your Palace of Love "

446 THE. DEMON PRINCES

"All very well for you artists," said Gersen hurriedly. "But I am
a busy man. Perhaps a brief conference or two here on Earth—"

"But I have already left Earth/' said Viole Falushe in a voice
of gentle reproach. "I hang here in orbit only until I hear that my
plans for the young minx have been implemented ... So you must
come to the Palace of Love."

The violet flower flashed green, faded and shifted to a delicate
pale blue. The connection had been broken.

Navarth sat sprawled in his chair a long two minutes, head askew,
chin on his chest. Gersen stood looking out the window, sensible
of a sudden new hollowness . -. Navarth lurched to his feet, went
out on the front deck. Gersen followed. The sun was setting into
the estuary; the died roofs of Dourrai glowed bronze; the rotting
black wharves and docks stood forth in queer shapes and angles; all
was invested with an unreal melancholy.

Gersen presently asked, "Do you know how to reach the Palace
of Love?"

"No. He will inform us. He has a mind like a filing cabinet; no
detail evades him." Navarth swung his arms indecisively, then went
inside, to return with a tall, slender, black-green bottle and two
goblets. He broke off the seal, poured. "Drink, Henry Lucas, what-
ever your name, whatever your trade. Within this bottle is the wis-
dom of the ages, tincture of Earth-gold. Nowhere is tipple to equal
this; it is unique to old Earth. Mad old Earth, like mad old Navarth,
yields its best in its serene maturity. Drink of this precious elixir,
Henry Lucas, and count yourself fortunate; normally it is reserved
for mad poets, tragic Pierrots, black angels, heroes about to die .. ."

"Gannot I be counted among these?" muttered Gersen, more
to himself than Navarth.

As was his habit Navarth raised the goblet into the sunlight, of
which only a few smoky orange rays remained. He tossed half a
cupful into his mouth, stared out across the water. "I leave Earth.
The withered leaf is lifted by the wind. Look, look, look!" In sud-
den excitement he pointed to the somber sun-trail along the estu-
ary. "The road ahead, the way we must go!"

Gersen sipped the liquor, which seemed to explode into a spray
of multi-colored lights. "There is no doubt but what he has taken
the girl?"

Navarth's mouth twisted awry. "I have no doubt as to this. He

THE PALACE OF LOVE

447

will punish her, hissing like a serpent. She isJheral Tinzy, and once
again she has rebuffed him ... so once again she will return to her
infancy."

"You are sure she isJheral Tinzy? Not someone who resembles
her closely?"

"She is Jheral Tinzy. There are differences, significant differ-
ences. Jheral was frivolous and a trifle cruel, this one is somber,
pensive, and never thinks of cruelty.... But she is Jheral Tinzy."

They sat, each occupied with his own thoughts. Dusk fell across
the water; lights commenced to shine from the far slopes. A uni-
formed messenger alighted from his air car, and descended the lad-
der. He called from the landing, "A delivery for the poet Navarth."

Navarth lurched to the gangplank. "I am he."

"Thumbprint here, please."

Navarth returned with the delivery: a long blue envelope.
Slowly he opened it, withdrew the enclosure. At the top was the
lavender flower of the screen presentation. The message read:

Go Beyond to Sirneste Cluster, in Aquarius Sector. Deep
within the cluster hangs the yellow sun Miel. The fifth
planet is Sogdian upon which, at the south of the hourglass
continent, you will discern the city Atar. In one month's
time go to Rubdan Ulshaziz at his agency and say: "I am
guest of the Margrave."

10

Excerpt from the televised debate at Avente, Alphanor, on
July 10, 1521, between Gowman Hachien, Counsel for the
Planned Progress League, and Shzor Jesno, Fellow of the
Institute, 98th Degree

Hachien Is it not true then that the Institute orig-
inated as a cabal of assassins3

Jesno To the same degree that the Planned Prog-
ress League originated as a cabal of irresponsible sedi-
tionists, traitors, suicidal hypochrondnacs

Hachien This is not a pertinent response

Jesno The elasticities, the areas of vagueness sur-
rounding the terms ol- your question, do indeed encom-
pass the exact truth of the situation

Hachien What, then, in inelastic terms, is the
truth3

Jesno Approximately fifteen hundred years ago, it
became evident that existing laws and systems of public
safety could not protect the human race from four bland
and insidious dangers First, universal and compulsory
dosage of drugs, tonics, toners, conditioners, stimulants
and prophylactics administered through the public wa-
ter supply Second, the development of genetic sciences,
which allowed and encouraged \anous agencies to alter
the basic character of Man, according to con tern porar).

THE PALACE OF LOVE 449

biological and political theory Third, psychological
control through media of public information. Fourth,
the proliferation of machinery and systems which m the
name of progress and social welfare tended to make
enterprise, imagination, creative toil and the subsequent
satisfactions obsolete if not extinct.

I will not speak of mental myopia, irresponsibility,
masochism, or the efforts of persons nervously groping
for a secure womb to re-enter: this is all irrelevant The
effect, however, was a situation analogous to the growth
of four cancers in a human organism; the Institute came
into being by much the same progress that the body
generates a prophylactic serum

With trepidation dampened by fatalism, Navarth boarded Ger-
sen's Distis Pharaon. Standing in the saloon, looking right and left,
he spoke in a tragic voice. "So at last it has happened' Poor old
Navarth, pried away from his source of strength' See him now—a
huddle, a sack of tired bones Navarth. You failed to discriminate
in your company. You befriended waifs and criminals and )ournal-
ists; for your tolerance you are to be wafted away into space."

"Compose yourself," said Gersen. "It's not all that bad."

As the Pharaon lifted from Earth, Navarth gave a hollow groan,
as if a spike were being driven into his foot.

"Look out the port," suggested Gersen "See old Earth as you
have never seen it before."

Navarth inspected the great blue and white globe and reluc-
tantly agreed that the vista was of majestic dimensions

"Now Earth recedes," said Gersen "We point ourselves toward
Aquarius, we engage the intersplit and suddenly we are insulated
from the universe."

Navarth pulled at his long chin "Strange," he admitted.
"Strange that this shell can convey us so far so fast. Somewhere
there is mystery. It impels one to theosophy to the worship of a
space god, or a god of light "

"Theory dissolves the mystery, though it lays bare a cryptic new
stratum. Quite likely there is an endless set of these layers, mystery
below mystery. Space is foam, matter particles are nodes and con-
densations. The foam fluxes, at varying rates, the average activity
of these minuscule fluxes is Time."

THK DEMON PRINCES

450

Navarth cautiously moved across the ship. "It is all very inter-
esting. Had 1 followed an early bent, I might have been a great
scientist."

The voyage proceeded. Navarth was a rather trying companion,
ebullient one moment, morose the next. At one time he simulta-
neously became afflicted with claustrophobia and agoraphobia, and
lav on a settee with his feet bare and a cloth pulled over his head.
On other occasions he sat by the port watching the stars pass, crow-
ing with amazement and glee. Another time he became interested
in the workings of the intersplit, and Gersen explained it as well as
he could: "Space-foam is whorled into a spindle; the pointed ends
crack and split the foam, which has no inertia; the ship inside the
whorl is insulated from the effects of the universe; the slightest
force propels it at an unthinkable rate. Light curls through the
whorl, we have the illusion of seeing the passing universe."

"Hmm," mused Navarth. "How small can the units be made?"
Gersen could give no definite answer. "Quite compact, I sup-
pose."

"Think! If you carried one on your back you could become
invisible!"

"To drift a million miles with each breath."

"Unless a person anchored himself. Why isn't this done?"

"The intersplit would break the connection; no anchor would

hold."

Navarth argued the point at length, and lamented his previous
ignorance. "Had I known previously of this marvelous device, I
might have contrived a useful new machine!"

"The intersplit has been known for a long time."
"But not to me!" And Navarth went off to brood.
Through the hither stars of Aquarius flew the Pharaon; the
Pale, that invisible barrier theoretically separating order from
chaos, fell behind. Ahead glowed Sirneste Cluster: two hundred
stars like a swarm of bright bees, controlling planets of every size
and description. Gersen located Miel with some difficulty, and pres-
ently the fifth planet Sogdian hung below, of Earth-size and at-
mospheric tvpe, like most of the settled planets. The climate
appeared temperate; the polar ice was of small extent; the equatorial
zone showed expanses of desert and jungle. The hourglass continent
was evident at once, and the macroscope located the city Afar.
Gersen sent down a request for landing clearance, but received

THE PALACE OF LOVE 451

no acknowledgment, which Gersen took as a sign that landing for-
malities were unknown.

He settled toward the planet and Atar spread below: a small
pink and white city surrounding an inlet of the ocean. The space-
port was operated in the manner standard at all the outer worlds:

as soon as Gersen had landed, two port officials approached, exacted
a fee and departed. There were no Deweaselers, a sign that the
world was not a haven for pirates, raiders and slavers-
No public conveyance was available; Gersen and Navarth
walked a half mile to the town. The people of Atar, dark-skinned
folk with hair dyed orange, wearing white pantaloons and wide
complicated white turbans, regarded them with great curiosity.
They spoke an incomprehensible language, but Gersen by dint of
repeating, "Rubdan Ulshaziz? Rubdan Ulshaziz?" presently learned
the whereabouts of the man he sought,

Rubdan Ulshaziz operated an import and export agency near
the ocean. He was a bland dark-skinned man dressed like the others
in loose pantaloons and turban, "Gentlemen, I welcome you. Will
you drink punch?" He poured out tiny cupfuls of thick cold fruit
syrup.

"Thank you," said Gersen. "We are guests of the Margrave,
and were instructed to come to you."

"Of course, of course!" Rubdan Ulshaziz bowed. "You will now
be conveyed to the planet where the Margrave has his little estate."
Rubdan Ulshaziz favored them with a lewd wink. "Excuse me a
little moment; I will instruct the person who is to conduct you."
He disappeared behind a portiere, presently to return with a dour-
seeming man with close-set eyes, who nervously puffed clouds of
smoke from an acrid cheroot. Rubdan Ulshaziz said, "This is Zog,
who will escort you to Rosja."

Zog blinked, coughed, spat a shred of tobacco to the floor.
"He speaks only the language of Atar," continued Rubdan Ul-
shaziz. "He will not be able to offer a description of your destina-
tion. Are you ready?"

"I need equipment from my spaceboat," said Gersen. "And the
spaceboat itself—is it safe?"

"As safe as if it were a tree; I will go bond on this. If you do
not find all correct upon your return, seek out Rubdan Ulshaziz
and demand an accounting. But what do you wish from your ship?
The Margrave furnishes everything, even to new garments."

452 THE DEMON PRINCES

"I need my recorder," said Gersen. "I plan to take photo-
graphs."

Rubdan Ulshaziz made a suave gesture. "The Margrave sup-
plies all equipment of this sort, the most modern combinations. He
wants his guests to arrive unburdened by possessions, though he is
indifferent to their psychic baggage."

"In other words," said Gersen, "we are not to carry any per-
sonal belongings with us?"

"None whatever. The Margrave supplies everything. His hos-
pitality is all-inclusive. You have locked, sealed and coded your
spaceship? Good, then from this moment forward you are a guest
of the Margrave. If you will accompany Fendi Zog—" he signaled
Zog with a peremptory twist of the hand. Zog inclined his head
and Gersen and Navarth followed him to an open area behind the
warehouse. Here was an air car of a design unfamiliar to Gersen,
and, so it seemed, to Zog as well. Sitting at the controls Zog tested
first one operator, then another, squinting at the rather haphazard
arrangement of knobs, grips and voice sensors. Finally, as if tiring
of the uncertainty, he pushed at a cluster of finger-flicks. The air
car jerked aloft, darted across the tree-tops, with Zog crouching
over the controls and Navarth calling out in wrath.

Zog finally took command of the air car; they flew twenty miles
south across the cultivated plots and stock pens surrounding Atar,
to a field on which rested a late-model Baumur Andromeda. Once
again Zog betrayed signs of uncertainty. The air car swooped,
bucked, wallowed and finally sank to rest. Navarth and Gersen
alighted with alacrity. Zog signaled them toward the Andromeda;

they climbed aboard and the port closed behind them. Through a
transparent panel in the partition separating the saloon from the
forward compartment, they saw Zog settling himself at the controls.
Navarth called out an instant protest; Zog squinted back through
the panel, bared yellow teeth in what might have been meant as a
smile of reassurance, and drew a curtain. The magnetic lock clicked
shut on the intervening door. Navarth sank back in dismay. "Life
is never so sweet until it becomes a hazard. What a sour trick for
Vogel to play on his old preceptor!"

Gersen indicated the pleated burlap screen which covered the
ports. "He also wants to preserve his mystery."

Navarth shook his head in bewilderment. "What use is knowl-

THE PALACE OF LOVE 453

edge to minds benumbed by fright? .. . Why do we wait? Does Zog
consult the Operator's Manual?"

The Andromeda lurched and rose at an alarming rate, almost
hurling Gersen and Navarth to the floor; Gersen grinned to hear
Navarth's roar of protest. The sun Miel, as it could be glimpsed
through the burlap, swung right and left, then rolled down and out
of sight below the hull. Off through the cluster flew the Androm-
eda, and it seemed as if Zog changed course several times, whether
from inaccuracy, poor spacemanship, or a desire to confuse his pas-
sengers.

Two hours passed. A yellow-white sun bulked large behind the
screened ports; below hung a planet the configuration of which
could not be discerned by reason of the curtain. With an impatient
ejaculation, Navarth went to pull the curtain aside. A crackle of
blue sparks struck out at his fingertips, and he fell back with a
startled cry. "This is an imposition!" he exclaimed. "Ill usage in-
deed!"

From an unseen diaphragm a recorded voice spoke: "As cher-
ished guests, you will wish to please your host by adhering to certain
standards of courtesy and restraint. It is not necessary to define
these standards; they will be clear to all persons of delicacy. The
stimulus provides a jocular reminder to the insensitive or thought-
less."

Navarth made a surly sound in his throat. "There's a smug dog
for you. WTiat harm in peering forth from the port?"

"Evidently the Margrave hopes to conceal the location of his
headquarters," said Gersen.

"Balderdash. What is to prevent a man's searching the cluster
until he finds the Palace of Love?"

"There are hundreds of planets," Gersen pointed out. "Very
likely other discouragements as well."

"He need fear no intrusion from me," sniffed Navarth.

The Andromeda settled upon a field surrounded by blue-green
gum trees of distinctly terrestrial derivation. Zog immediately un-
sealed the port, a process which Gersen watched first with
amazement, then quizzical amusement. Wary of unseen micro-
phones, he communicated none of his ideas to Navarth.

They alighted into the morning glare of a yellow-white sun,
much like Miel in color and radiance. The air was pungent with
the odor of gum trees and native vegetation: shrubs with lustrous

454 THE DEMON PRINCES

black stalks, black and scarlet leaf-discs; blue spikes with fluttering
dark blue vanes; puffs of cottony membrane enclosing tomato-red
nodes. There were also clumps of terrestrial bamboo and grass and
a thicket of blackberry bushes.

"Bizarre, bizarre," muttered Navarth, looking about. "There is
fascination to be found on these far worlds!"

"This is almost like Earth," said Gersen. "But other areas may
be dominated by local plants; then you will see the truly bizarre."

"No scope even for a sane poet," grumbled Navarth. "But I
must put aside my individuality, my pitiful small cell of sentience.
I have been snatched from Earth, and no doubt my bones will rot
in this strange soil." He picked up a clod, crushed it between his
fingers, let the fragments fall to the ground. "It looks like soil, it
feels like soil—but it is star-stuff. We are far from Earth . . . What?
And we are to be marooned as well, with neither a crust nor a bottle
of wine." For Zog had returned within the Andromeda and was
sealing the port. Gersen took Navarth's arm and hustled him across
the meadow. "Zog has a reckless temperament; he may take off on
intersplit and carry away ship, meadow, shrubs, grass, and two pas-
sengers if we stand too near. Then you could well sing of bizarre
circumstances."

But Zog raised the ship on its ionic pencils; Gersen and Navarth
watched it dwindle into the bright blue sky. "So here we are, some-
where in Sirneste Cluster," said Navarth. "Either the Palace of
Love is nearby or Viole Falushe has performed another of his gro-
tesque jokes."

Gersen went to the edge of the meadow and looked through
the screen of trees. "Grotesque joke or not, here is a road, and it
must lead somewhere."

They set out along the road, between hedges of tall black rods,
with scarlet leaf-discs clattering and chattering in the wind. The
road wound around a knob of black schist, swung up a steep rise.
Gaining the crest they looked out upon a valley and a small city
only a mile or two distant.

"Is this the Palace of Love?" wondered Navarth. "Hardly what
I expected—far too neat, too precise— And what are those circular
towers?" The towers to which Navarth referred rose at regular
intervals across the city. Gersen could only suggest that they con-
tained offices or apartments, or perhaps served to house civic func-
tionaries.

THE PALACE OF LOVE 455

As they started down the hill, a vehicle approached at a great
rate—a bumping thudding platform supported by rolling air-
cushions. Standing at the controls was a gaunt stern person in a
brown and black uniform, who on closer inspection proved to be a
woman. She halted the car, inspected the two with a skeptical gaze.
"You are the Margrave's guests? Step aboard then."

Navarth took exception to the woman's tone. "Were you sup-
posed to meet the ship? This is inefficiency; we were forced to
walk!"

The woman gave him a scornful half-smile. "Get aboard, unless
you care to walk more."

Gersen and Navarth climbed aboard, Navarth fuming with in-
dignation. Gersen asked the woman, "What city is that?"

"It is City Ten."

"And what is your name for this planet?"

"I call it Fool's World. Other folk may call it what they like."
Her mouth snapped shut like a trap. She swung the vehicle around
and started back down the road, the bladders pounding, Gersen and
Navarth clinging tight to avoid being hurled into the ditch. Navarth
bawled orders and instructions, but the woman drove even more
furiously and did not slow until they entered the city by a curving
tree-shaded avenue; whereupon her pace became extremely sedate.
Gersen and Navarth were exposed to the curious stares of the city's
inhabitants. These were a people without distinctive peculiarity
other than that the heads of the men were shaved clean as an egg—
eyebrows, scalp, and beard; while the women affected an elaborate
coiffure of long varnished spikes, occasionally tipped with flowers
or other ornaments. Both men and women wore garments of ex-
travagant cut and color, and carried themselves with a peculiar mix-
ture of swagger and furtiveness; speaking emphatically in low
voices, laughing in loud brash bays, only to stop short, look in all
directions, then continue with their mirth.

The vehicle passed one of the towers Navarth had noted: a
structure of twenty stories, each apparently consisting of six wedge-
shaped apartments.

Navarth spoke to the woman—"What is the purpose of the
towers which rise so prominently?"

"It is where the taxes are collected," was the reply.

"Aha then, Henry Lucas, you are correct: the towers house civic
functionaries."

THE. DEMON PRINCES

456

The woman gave Navarth a caustic gray glance. "They do, in-
deed. Indeed and indeed."

Navarth paid her no further heed. He pointed to one of the
numerous cafes along the boulevard, patronized principally by men.
"These rascals have much idle time," Navarth noted. "See how
they loll and take their tipple! Viole Falushe is less than harsh with
his subjects, if such they be!"

The vehicle swung into a turn-around, halted before a long
two-story building. On the veranda sat a number of men and
women in various costumes, obviously outworlders. "Off then,
shagheads!" said the woman driver tersely. "Here is the inn; I have
done my stint."

"Incompetently, and in a surly manner," declared Navarth, ris-
ing and preparing to alight. "Your own head, incidentally, would
never be the worse for a few changes. Perhaps a full beard, as a
start."

The woman touched a button; the bed of the vehicle tilted;

Navarth and Gersen were forced to jump to the ground. The ve-
hicle departed, with Navarth making an insulting gesture at the
woman's back.

A footman came forward to meet them. "You are guests of the
Margrave?"

"This is correct," said Navarth. "We have been invited to the
Palace."

"During the wait, you will be housed in the inn."

"Wait? Of what duration?" demanded Navarth. "I assumed
that we would be taken directly to the Palace."

The footman bowed. "The Margrave's guests assemble here;

all go forth together. I presume there are five or six others yet to
come, this being the usual number. May I show you to your
rooms?"

Gersen and Navarth were conducted to cubicles eight feet on
a side, each containing a low narrow bunk, a wardrobe, a lavatory,
ventilated only by the lattice in the door. Navarth was housed next
to Gersen, and his complaints were clearly audible. Gersen smiled
to himself. For reasons know^ best to himself, such was the style
in which Viole F'alushe wished his guests to wait.

Within the wardrobe were Earth-style garments of a light crisp
fabric. Gersen washed, removed his beard with a depilatory,
changed into fresh garments and went out upon the veranda. Na-

THE PALACE OF LOVE 457

varth had preceded him, and already was holding forth to the eight
people, four men and four women, who sat there. Gersen took a
seat to the side and considered the group. Beside him sat a portly
gentleman wearing the black neckband and beige skintone, cur-
rently fashionable on the Mechanics Coast of Lyonesse, one of the
Concourse planets. He was, so Gersen discovered, a manufacturer
of bathroom fixtures named Hygen Grote. His companion Dor-
anie—almost certainly not his wife—was a cool wide-eyed blonde
woman with only an ultrafashionable hint of bronze skin luster.

A pair of serious young women sat quietly to the side; sociology
students at Sea Province University near Avente. Their names were
Tralla Callob and Mornice Whill; they seemed awed, half-alarmed,
and sat close to each other, feet flat on the floor, knees pressed
tightly together. Tralla Callob was not unattractive, though she
seemed unaware of this and took no pains to make the most of
herself. Mornice WTiill was victimized by overlarge features and a
truculent conviction that every man in the group intended assault
upon her chastity.

More relaxed was Margary Liever, a middle-aged woman from
Earth who had won first prize in a television contest: her "heart's
desire." She had chosen a visit to Viole Falushe's Palace of Love.
Viole Falushe had been amused and obliging.

Torrace da Nossa was a musician, a man of sophistication and
elegance, perhaps a trifle soft, more than a trifle vain, and wdth an
effortless ease of manner which made meaningful conversation dif-
ficult. He was visiting the Palace of Love preparatory to composing
an opera entitled The Palace of Love.

Lerand Wible was a marine architect of Earth, who recently
had constructed a sailboat of ultimate design. The fin was osmium,
the sails were tall airfoils of metal-plated foam, self-supporting and
unstayed. Sails and fin extended at opposite diameters of a metal
slip-ring; the hull always floated upright in its most efficient hy-
drodynamic posture. Both hull and fin were coated with a water
repellent, reducing skin friction to a minimum, while ducts expelled
air to minimize turbulence. Wible had met Viole Falushe in con-
nection with his fanciful scheme for a seagoing palace, ring-shaped
to enclose a central lagoon.

Skebou Diffiani was a taciturn man with a head of coarse black
hair, a black tightly curled beard and an expression conveying dis-
dain and suspicion of all the others. He was a native of Quantique,

I HE DFMON PRINCES

which went far to explain his aloof manner. His occupation was day
laborer, his inclusion in the group could be explained only as a
caprice of Viole Falushe.

Margery Lie\er had been the first to arrive, five of the long
local days before. Then Tralla and Mornice had come, then Skebou
Diffiani. Lerand VVible and Torrance da Nossa were next, followed
by Hvgen Grote and Doranie.

Navarth plied all with questions, pacing the veranda, darting
side glances right and left. But no one knew any more than he did;

none knew where lay the Palace of Love or the time of departure.
The uncertainty troubled no one, in spite of the constricted cham-
bers, the hotel was reasonably comfortable, and there was the city
to be explored a pulling, mysterious city, with latencies and un-
dercurrents some or the guests found fascinating, others disturbing.
A gong summoned the group to lunch, which was served on a back
court under black, green and scarlet trees The cuisine was uncom-
plicated pastry wafers, poached fish, fruit, a cool pale-green bev-
erage and cakes of spiced currants During the meal six new guests
arrived and were brought immediately to the court for lunch. They
were Druids of Vale, or Virgo 912 \TI, and apparently consisted
of two families, though such relationships were shrouded in secrecy.
There were two Druids, two Druidesses and two adolescents. All
wore similar garments: black gow^s, black cowls, long-toed black
slippers. Druids Dakaw and Pruitt were tall and saturnine; Druidess
Wust was thin, sinewy, with a hollow-cheeked face, and Druidess
Laidig was portly and imposing. The lad Hule was sixteen or sev-
enteen, extremely handsome, with sallow clear skin and clear dark
eyes He spoke little and smiled never, surveying all with a troubled
gaze. The girl Billika, about the same age, was likewise pale, with
something of the same troubled gaze, as if she constantly strove to
balance sets of irreconcilable relationships.

The Druids sat together, ate hurriedly with cowls drawn for-
ward and only occasional mutters of conversation. After lunch when
the guests returned to the veranda, the Druids came purposefully
forward, introduced themselves with brave cordiality, and took seats
among the others

Navarth came to question them, but their evasiveness was a
match for his curiosity, and he learned nothing. The talk became
general, reverting as it always did to the city7, the name of which
was either City Ten or Kouhha. The sub)ect of the towers arose.

7 HE P4L4CE OF LOVT. 459

What was their function2 Did they contain business offices, as Dor-
anie suggested, or were they residences2 Navarth reported the ex-
planation of the woman in the uniform, that the towers were
tax-gathering agencies, but the rest of the group found the idea
farfetched Diffiani made the somewhat brutal assertion that the
towers were brothels: "Notice: early in the morning girls and young
women arrive, later the men come."

Torrace da Nossa said, "The hypothesis is one which leaps to
mmd, but the women leave when they will; and they seem to in-
clude every stratum of society, which is hardly typical."

Hygen Grote gave a sly wink to Navarth. "There is a simple
way to resolve the question. I suggest that we deputize one of our
number to make direct inquiry."

Druidesses Laidig and Wust snorted and drew their cowls close
around their faces; the girl Billika licked her lips nervously. Druids
Dakaw and Pruitt looked off in different directions. Gersen won-
dered why the Druids, notoriously prim, had ventured on the jour-
ney to the Palace of Love, when their sensibilities could not but
fail to be outraged. Mysteries everywhere . . .

A few minutes later Gersen and Navarth went for a stroll
through the city, examining stalls, stores, workshops and residences
with the untroubled curiosity of tourists. The people watched them
with indifference and perhaps a tinge of envy. They seemed pros-
perous, gentle, easy of disposition; still Gersen sensed a pervading
quality he could not define—nothing so coarse as fear, or discord,
or anxiety . A wide tree-shaded cafe tempted Navarth, Gersen
pointed out that they lacked money.

Navarth brushed the matter aside, and insisted that Gersen )oin
him for a glass of wine. Gersen shrugged and followed Navarth to
a table. Navarth signaled the proprietor "We are guests of the
Margrave V^ole Falushe, we have no coin of the city. We intend to
patronize your cafe and you may send the account to the hotel for
collection."

The proprietor bowed punctiliously. "It shall be as you wish."

"Then we will drink a flask of whatever wine you consider suit-
able for this time of day."

"At once, sir "

The wine was served, a pleasant beverage which Navarth found
somewhat too delicate. They sat watching folk walk past. Directly

THE DEMON PRINCES

460

opposite rose one of the cryptic towers, which now in midafternoon
showed no great activity.

Navarth summoned the proprietor to order another flask of
wine, and, indicating the tower, asked, "What goes on in yonder

tower r

The proprietor seemed puzzled by the question. "It is like all
the rest—where we pay our taxes."

"By why so many towers then? Would not a single tower suf-
fice?"

Now the proprietor was amazed. "WTiat, sir? For so many peo-
ple as live here? Hardly possible!"

With this Navarth was forced to be satisfied.

Returning to the hotel they found that two more guests had
arrived, both men of Earth: Harry Tanzel of London, Gian Mario
of no fixed address. Both were well-favored men—tall, keen-faced,
dark-haired—of ages not immediately apparent. Tanzel was per-
haps the handsomer of the two; Mario was more energetic and vital.

The local day was a long twenty-nine hours; when night finally
arrived the guests retired without protest to their cubicles, only to
be awakened at midnight by a gong and summoned to a midnight
meal, in accordance with local custom.

The following morning saw the arrival of Zuly, a tall languor-
ous dancer from the world Valhalla, Tau Gemini VI. She com-
ported herself with the most exquisite mannerisms, to the suspicion
and perturbation of the Druids, especially young Hule who could
not keep his eyes away from the woman.

Immediately after the morning meal Gersen, Navarth and Ler-
and Wible went walking beside the canal, which ran behind the
hotel. Today appeared to be a holiday: the people of the city wore
garlands; some were drunk; others sang songs in praise of Arodin,
evidently a folk hero or ruler.

"Even on a holiday," said Navarth, "they go to pay their taxes."

"Nonsense," said Wible. "When do men go to pay taxes with
so jaunty a step?" The three paused to watch men going and com-
ing from the tall tower. "Definitely, it is a brothel. It can be nothing

else."

"But so public? So industrious? We may be misled by appear-


ances.'

"Conceivably. Do you wish to enter the place?"

THE PAL1CE OF LOVE

461

"No indeed. If brothel it is, I am unfamiliar with their methods
and might perform some unorthodox act to the discredit of us all."

"You are unusually cautious," remarked Gersen.

"I am on a strange planet," sighed Navarth. "I lack the strength
I derive from the soil of old Earth. But I am curious; we shall
resolve the question once and for all. Come." He led the way to
the pavilion where they had been served the day before, and
scanned the tables. A portly middle-aged gentleman in a wide-
brimmed green hat sat looking off along the boulevard, a small jug
of wine at his elbow.

Navarth approached him. "Your pardon, sir. As you can see,
we are strangers here. One or two of your customs puzzles us, and
we wish to learn how matters stand."

The middle-aged man heaved himself erect, and after a mo-
ment's hesitation pointed to the other chairs. "I will explain as best
I can, though there is small mystery here. We do as best we can
and live according to our lights."

Navarth, Gersen and Wible seated themselves. "First of all,"
Navarth inquired, "what is the function of that tower yonder, where
so many people go in and out?"

"Ah, there. Yes. That is our local agency of tax collection."

"Tax collection?" asked Navarth, with a triumphant glance at
Wible. "And the folk who go in and out pay taxes?"

"Exactly. The city is under the wise sponsorship of Arodin. We
are prosperous because taxes suck away none of our wealth."

At this Lerand Wible made a skeptical sound. "How is this
possible?"

"Is it not the same elsewhere? The money collected is the
money which otherwise would be spent on frivolity. The system is
beneficient to all. Every girl of the region must serve five years,
performing a stipulated number of services per day. Naturally the
more attractive girls fulfill their quota sooner than those who are
plain, and there is consequently a considerable incentive to main-
taining pulchritude."

"Aha!" said Wible. "In effect—a civic brothel."

His informant shrugged. "Call it what you wish. There is no
diminution of resource; the yield is devoted to civic expense; there
is no outcry at the collection of tax, and the tax collectors find their
work not irksome; or if they do, they can make 'in lieu' payments—
which usually happens should the girl wed before her service is

THE DKMON PRINCES

462

complete. Then, of course, we have our obligation to Arodm, which
each of us discharges by the payment of a two-year-old child.
Thereupon, we pay no more taxes, except for an occasional special
assessment."

"No one complains when his child is taken?"

"Usually not. The child is taken to a creche immediately after
birth, so that no bonds of affection are formed. Folk breed children
early to discharge their obligation as rapidly as possible."

Wible exchanged glances with Navarth and Gersen. "And what
happens to the children?"

"They go to the account of Arodin. The unsuitable are sold to
the Mahrab; the satisfactory serve at the great Palace. I gave a child
ten years ago; I now owe tax to no one."

Navarth could contain himself no longer. Leaning forward in
his chair he pointed a knobby finger. "So this is why you sit here
blinking so smugly in the sun? Where is your guilt?"

"Guilt?" The man raised his hands to adjust his wide-brimmed
hat in puzzlement. "There is no guilt. I have performed my duty.
I gave my child; I patronize the civic brothel twice a week. I am a
free man."

"While the child you gave is now a ten-year-old slave. Some-
where he or she toils that you may sit here with your belly on your
lap!"

The man rose to his feet, face pink with fury. "This is incite-
ment, a serious offense! What then do you do here, you plucked,
foolish old fowl? Why do you come to this city if you don't fancy
our ways?"

"I did not select your city as a destination," said Navarth with
dignity. "I am a guest ofViole Falushe, and remain here only pend-
ing his notification."

The man laughed, a harsh throbbing chortle. "This is the out-
world name for Arodin. You come to enjoy the Palace, and you
have not even paid!" He pounded the table once with his fist and
marched out of the cafe. Other patrons who had been listening
pointedly turned their backs. Presently the three returned to the
hotel.

Even as they arrived, the thud of the bladder-buggy sounded at
the end of the boulevard. It rumbled up to the hotel, halted. A man
alighted, and turned to help a young woman who, ignoring the
hand, Jumped to the ground. Navarth gave a raucous cry of surprise.

THE PALACE OF LOVE

463

The young woman, attired in fashionable Alphanor-style garments,
was Navarth's erstwhile ward, known as Zan Zu, Drusilla and oth-
erwise.

Navarth took her aside and pelted her with questions: What
had happened to her? WTiere had she been pent?

Drusilla could tell him little. She had been shoved into an air
car by the white-eyed man, conveyed to a space vessel and placed
in the custody of three grim women. Each of them wore a heavy
gold ring; after the poison sprayed from the rings was demonstrated
upon a dog, no further threats or warnings were necessary.

Drusilla was taken to Avente on Alphanor, lodged at the splen-
did Hotel Tarquin. The women were watchful as hawks, speaking
seldom, never more than two or three feet away, the gold rings a
sinister glitter. They took her to concerts, restaurants, fashion
shows, cinematic displays, museums and galleries. They urged her
to buy clothes, to tone her skin, to make herself chic. All of which
Drusilla resisted from sullen perversity; whereupon the women
bought the clothes, toned her skin and arranged her hair. Drusilla
retaliated by sagging, drooping, contriving to look as uncouth as
possible- Finally the women took her to the spaceport; they boarded
a spaceship which conveyed them to Sirneste Cluster and the planet
Sogdian. They arrived at the agency of Rubdan Ulshaziz at Atar
simultaneously with another guest for the Palace of Love, Milo
Ethuen, who stayed in Drusilla's company the remainder of the
journey. The three women came as far as the Kouliha space field,
then returned to Atar with Zog. Navarth and Gersen looked around
to inspect Ethuen, who now sat on the veranda with the others: a
man not unlike Tanzel and Mario, with a brooding face, dark hair,
long arms and sensitive hands.

The manager of the hotel came forth upon the veranda. "Ladies
and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that your wait is at an
end. The guests of the Margrave are assembled; you must now set
forth on your journey to the Palace of Love. Please follow me; I
will conduct you to your conveyance."

11

Excerpt from the televised debate at Avente, Alphanor, July
10, 1521, between Gowman Hachieri, Counsel for the
Planned Progress League and Slizor Jesno, Fellow of the
Institute, 98th Degree:

Hachieri: You admit that the Institute arranges as-
sassination of persons striving to improve the human
condition?

Jesno: You beg the question.
Hachieri: Do you murder anyone whatever?

Jesno: I don't care to discuss tactical theory. There
are very few such events.

Hachieri: But they occur.

Jesno: Only in the case of absolutely flagrant of-
fenses against the human organism.

Hachieri: Is not your definition ofoffense arbitrary?
Are you not simply opposed to change? Are you not
conservative to the point of stagnation?

Jesno: To all three questions—No. We want nat-
ural organic evolution. The human race, needless to
say, is not without flaws. When elements of the race
attempt to cure these ills—to create an "ideal man" or
an "ideal society," there is the certainty of over-
compensation in one or another direction. The flaws

THE PALACE OF LOVE 465

with the reaction to the flaws creates a distortion factor,
a filter, and the final product is more diseased then the
original. Natural evolution—the slow abrasion of man
against his environment—has slowly but definitely im-
proved the race. The optimum man, the optimum so-
ciety may never eventuate. But there will never be the
nightmare of the artificial man or the artificial "planned
progress" which the League advocates: not so long as
the human race generates that highly active set of an-
tibodies known as the Institute.

Hachieri: This is a resonant speech. It is superfi-
cially persuasive. It is ridden with maudlin fallacies. You
want man to evolve through "abrasion against his en-
vironment." Other human beings are part of the envi-
ronment. The League is part of the environment. We
are natural; we are neither artificial nor sick. The ills
of the Oikumene are by no means obscure or mysteri-
ous; they are susceptible to remedy. We of the League
propose to take action. We do not intend to be dis-
suaded or intimidated. If we are threatened, we shall
take measures to protect ourselves. We are not helpless.
The Institute has tyrannized society long enough. It is
time that new ideas permeated the human community.

Behind the hotel waited a long omnibus with six bladder wheels
and a canopy of rosy-pink silk. Amid banter, laughing and repartee,
the guests—eleven men and ten women—climbed aboard, settled
themselves upon cushions of purple satin. The bus trundled across
the canal and away to the south; Kouliha with its tall towers was
left behind.

For an hour the guests rode past carefully tended farms and
orchards toward a line of wooded hills, and speculation was rife as
to the exact location of the Palace of Love. Hygen Grote went so
far as to push into the forward compartment and make inquiry of
the driver. This was the gaunt woman in the brown and black uni-
form. Hygen Grote was rebuffed, and returned to his seat grinning
ruefully and shaking his head. Up into the hills rolled the bus, under
tall umbrella-shaped trees with glossy black trunks and green-

466 THE DEMON PRINCES

yellow leaf-discs From somewhere in the distance came the me-
lodious hooting of tree-dwelling creatures, enormous white moths
fluttered through the shade, which became ever more dank, ever
more pungent with the reek of lichens and large-leafed shrubs At
the ridge the road broke out into a dramatic blaze of sunlight, ahead
spread a vast blue ocean The bus plunged down a steep straight
road and halted at a dock Here waited a glass-hulled yacht with
blue decks and a white metal superstructure Four stewards in dark
blue and white uniforms assisted the guests from the bus, conducted
them to a building of white coral blocks, where they were asked to
change into new garments white yachting costumes, with rope san-
dals and loose white linen caps The Druids protested vigorously
on doctrinal grounds They flatly refused to part with their cowls;

and so they boarded the yacht—the men attired in white trousers
and )ackets, the women in white skirts and )ackets, with heads en-
cowled in black as before

The time was sunset, the yacht would not get under way until
the morrow The passengers assembled in the saloon, where they
were served Earth-type cocktails, and presently dinner The two
younger Druids, Hule and Billika, wore their cowls rather more
loosely than their parents, thereby incurring reprimands

After dinner the three young men, Mano, Tanzel and Ethuen,
played deck tennis with Tralla and Mornice Drusilla huddled dis-
consolately near Navarth, who conducted the strangest of conver-
sations with Druidess Laidig Gersen sat to the side watching,
propounding speculations, wondering where his responsibilities lay
and to whom From time to time Drusilla wistfully looked across
the saloon toward him Clearly she dreaded the future With good
reason, thought Gersen He could think of no way to reassure her
Zuly the dancer, supple as a white eel, walked around the deck with
da Nossa Skebou Diffiani the Quantique stood by the rail, thinking
the mysterious thoughts of his race, with an occasional contemp-
tuous glance toward da Nossa and Zuly

Billika shyly came up to talk to Drusilla, followed by Hule, who
seemed to find Drusilla attractive Billika, somewhat flushed, had
been tasting wine. She wore her cowl artfully disarranged to show
her curly brown hair a situation which did not evade the notice of
Druidess Laidig, who, however, was unable to detach herself from
Navarth

Margary Liever chatted with Hygen Grote and his companion

THE P-lL-lCEOrLOl-T 467

Dorame, until Doranie became bored and went to saunter along
the deck where, to H\gen Grote's annoyance, she was joined by
Lerand Wible

Ihe Druids were the first to bed, followed by Hygen Grote
and Doranie

Gersen went out on the deck and looked up at the sky where
the stars of Sirneste Cluster blazed To the south and east heaved
the waters of an ocean whose name he did not know Not far distant
Skebou Difham leaned on the rail, looking across the same ocean

Gersen returned within Drusilla had gone to her stateroom
On the sideboard the stewards had arranged a collation of meats,
cheese, fowl, aspic and a selection of wines and liquors

Zuly conversed in low tones with da Nossa Margary Liever
now sat alone, a vague smile on her face, was she not achieving her
heart's desire^ Navarth had become somewhat drunk and was swag-
gering about, spoiling for an opportunity to produce a dramatic
scene But everyone else was relaxed and gave him no scope Na-
varth finally threw up his hands and went off to bed Gersen, after
a last look around, followed

Gersen awoke to the pitch and roll of the yacht The time was
shortly after dawn sunlight slanted into the cabin through the sec-
tion of hull above the waterhne, below dark blue water surged past,
not yet illuminated by the sun

Gersen dressed, went to the saloon, to find himself the earliest
riser Land lay four or five miles off the starboard beam a narrow
beach, a wooded foreshore backed by low hills, with the hint of
purple mountains m the distance

Gersen went to the buffet, helped himself to breakfast As he
ate other guests appeared, and presently the entire complement sat
in the saloon, devouring grills and pastries, drinking hot beverages,
marveling at the scenery and the easy motion of the yacht

After breakfast Gersen went out upon the deck, where he was
joined by Navarth, foppish in his white yachting costume The day
was perfect, sunlight glinted on the blue swells, clouds soared above
the hon/on Navarth spat over the side, contemplated the sun, the
sky, the sea "The )ourney begins It must start like this, innocent
and pure "

Gersen understood Navarth's meaning well enough. He made
no comment

468 I HF DFMON PRINCES

Navarth spoke again, in a voice even more gloomy "No matter
what else you say ofVogel, he knows how to do a thing well "

Gersen inspected the gold buttons on his jacket They seemed
no more than buttons In response to Navarth's puzzled stare he
said mildly, "Such articles have been known to conceal spy-cells "

Navarth laughed hoarsely "Not likely Vogel may well be
aboard, but he won't be eavesdropping He'd be afraid of hearing
something unpleasant It would spoil the trip for him "

"You think he's aboard then7"

"He's aboard, no fear Would he miss an experience like this?
Never' But who2"

Gersen considered "He's not you nor I, nor the Druids He's
not Diffiam "

"He would not be Wible, a different type altogether, too fresh
and fair and round. He would not be da Nossa, though it's barely
possible Barely possible he's one of the Druids But I think not "

"That leaves only three The tall dark men "

"Tanzel, Mano, Ethuen. He could be any of these "

They turned to consider the three men Tanzel stood on the
bow, looking ahead across the ocean Ethuen sat sprawled m a deck
chair, talking to Bilhka, who squirmed in mingled embarrassment
and pleasure Mano, the last to arise, had )ust finished breakfast,
and was stepping out on deck Gersen tried to match each of them
to what he knew ofViole Falushe Each was tense, yet elegant, each
might have been Possibility No 2, the murderer m harlequinade
who had fled on long legs from Navarth's party

"Any could be Viole Falushe," said Navarth

"And what of Zan Zu—Drusilla—whatever her name^"

"She is doomed " Navarth threw his hands up m the air and
stalked away

Gersen looked toward Drusilla, as he had decided to think of
her She stood talking to Hule, the young Druid, who in the fervor
of the moment had let fall his cowl A handsome lad, thought Ger-
sen. earnest, with a look of internal tension which women must
eventually find provocative Indeed Drusilla was examining him
with some small interest Druidess Wust barked a sharp order Hule
guiltily snapped up his cowl and slunk away

Gersen went over to Drusilla She gave him a look of wary
welcome

"Were you surprised to see us at the hotel3" Gersen asked

THE P4LACEOr IOVI 469

She nodded "I had never expected to see you again " After a
moment's hesitation she asked, "What's going to happen to me5
Why am I so important"

Gersen, still in doubt regarding spy-cells, spoke cautiously "I
don't know what will happen I will protect you if I can You're
important because you resemble a girl Viole Falushe once loved
and who scorned him He may be aboard the yacht, he may be one
of the passengers So you must be very careful "

Drusilla turned a fearful look around the deck "Which one3"

"You remember the man at Navarth's party3"

"Yes "

"He will be a man like that "

Drusilla winced "I don't know how to be careful I wish I were
someone else " She looked over her shoulder "Can't you take me
awa\5"

"Not now "

Drusilld bit her lip "Why did it have to be me?"

"I might answer if I knew who you were to begin with Zan
Zu3 Drusiila Wayles2 Jheral Tinzy3"

"I'm none of them," she said in a dolorous voice

"Who are you?"

"I don't know "

"You don't have a name^'

" Fhe man at the dock saloon called me Spooky   That's not
much ofa name I'll be Drusilla Wayles " She looked at him care-
fully "You're not really a journalist, are you^'

"I am Henry Lucas, a monomaniac. And I mustn't talk to you
too much You know why "

Drusilla's face lost its momentary animation. "If you say so "

" Fry to identify Viole Falushe," said Gersen "He will want
you to love him If you don't, he'll hide his anger, but you may
know by a glance, a threat, a look on his face Or while he flirts
with someone else, he will watch to see if you notice "

Drusilla pursed her lips doubtfully "I'm not very discerning "

"Do your best But be careful Don't bring trouble on yourself
Here comes Tanzel "

"Good morning, good morning," said Tanzel breezily He
spoke to Drusilla "You look as if you've lost your last friend That's
not the case, you know, not with Harry Tanzel aboard Cheer up'
We're off to the Palace of Love "

470 THE DEMON PRINCES

Dmsilla nodded. "I know "

"Just the place for a pretty girl. I'll personally show you all the
sights, if I can fight off my competitors "

Gersen laughed "No competition here I can't take time from
my job, much as I'd like to "

"Job5 At the Palace ofLove^ Are you an ascetic?"

"Simply a journalist What I see and hear will show up in Cos-
mopohs "

"Keep my name out of it'" warned Tanzel facetiously. "Some-
day I'll be a married man, I'd never live down that kind of fame "

"I'll be discreet "

"Good Come along now " Tanzel took Drusilla's arm "I'll
help you with your morning constitutional Fifty times around the
deck"'

They walked off, Drusilla with a last forlorn glance over her
shoulder at Gersen

Navarth sidled up "There's one of them Is he the man3"

"I don't know He's starting strong."

Three days the yacht plied the sunny seas, for Gersen three pleasant
days, though the hospitality came from a man he intended to kill.
There was an effortless quality to the hours, a dreamlike isolation,
and each person's characteristic style was intensified, becoming a
thing larger than life. Attitudes and rigidities relaxed: Hule allowed
his cowl to hang loose and finally discarded it altogether, Billika,
more tentatively, did the same, whereupon Zuly in a spirit of cool
mischief offered to arrange her hair. Billika hesitated, then, with a
sigh of hedonistic abandon, assented So Zuly shaped and clipped,
to accentuate Billika's pale, wide-eyed delicacy, to the amazement
of all the men aboard. Druidess Laidig cried out in anger, Druidess
Wust clicked her tongue, the two Druids were startled, but all the
others begged them not to browbeat the girl Such was the atmo-
sphere of ease and gayety that Druidess Laidig at last fell to laugh-
ing at Navarth, and Billika managed to slip away quietly Not long
after, Druidess Laidig allowed her own cowl to hang loose, as pres-
ently did Druid Dakaw Druid Pruitt and Druidess Wust held to
the full rigor of their habit, but tolerated the delinquency of the
others with no more than an occasional disparaging glance or mut-
tered sarcasm

Tralla, Mornice and Dorame, noting the attention paid to the

THE P'4 LACE OF LOVE 471

younger girls, became extremely enthusiastic and gay clearly none
planned to rebuff any attempted gallantry

Each afternoon the yacht halted to drift on the ocean All who
chose plunged into the clear water, while others went below to
watch through the glass hull These latter included the older Dru-
ids, Diffiam (who participated in no activity except eating and
drinking), Margar^ Liever, who professed a fear of deep water, and
Hygen Grote, who could not swim The others, even Navarth,
donned the swim suits provided by the yacht and splashed m the
warm ocean

At dusk of the second evening, Gersen took Drusilla to the bow,
refraining from any intimacy of contact which might infuriate Viole
Falushe, should he be watching Drusilla seemed to feel no such
constraint, and Gersen became aware, with a bittersweet pang, that
the girl was in some degree infatuated with him Gersen—as sus-
ceptible as anyone else—fought back his inclinations Even if he
succeeded in destroying Viole Falushe, what then5 There was no
place for Drusilla in the harsh future he had laid out for himself
Still, the temptation remained Drusilla, with her somber moods,
her sudden flashes of joy, was fascinating   But circumstances
were as they were, and Gersen kept his conversation to the business
at hand. Drusilla had noticed nothing Mano, Ethuen, Tanzel—all
plied her with attention As Gersen had instructed, she showed fa-
voritism to none Even as they stood m the bow watching the sun-
set, Mano came to join them After a moment or two Gersen
excused himself and returned to the promenade If Mano were Vi-
ole Falushe, it would not do to antagonize him If he were not, then
Viole Falushe, watching hatefully from elsewhere, would be reas-
sured that Drusilla preferred no single person

The morning of the fourth day found the yacht cruising among
small islands lush with vegetation At noon the yacht approached
the mainland and drifted up to a dock. The voyage was over The
passengers disembarked regretfully, with many a backward glance,
Margary Liever frankly wept

In a structure beside the dock the guests were issued new gar-
ments For the men there were loose velvet blouses in the softest
and richest of colors—moss-green, cobalt-blue, dark maroon—with
loose black velvet trousers fastened below the knees with scarlet
ribbons The women received the same style blouses m paler

472 THE DEMON PRINCES

shades, with striped matching skirts All were issued soft velvet be-
rets, square, loose, with an intriguing tassel.

When all had reassembled, they were served lunch, then ush-
ered to a great wooden wagon with six green and gold wheels and
a dark green canopy supported by spiral posts of a beautiful dark
wood.

The wagon set off along a coastal road. Late in the afternoon
the track veered inland over rolling grassy hills spangled with flow-
ers, and the ocean was lost to sight.

Soon there were trees, tall and solitary, much like Earth trees,
but conceivably indigenous, then clumps and groves. At dusk the
wagon halted beside one such grove. The guests were conducted
to a hostel built high in the tree-tops, led along swaying walkways
to small wicker tree houses.

Supper was served on the ground to the light of a great cackling
fire. The wine seemed stronger than usual, or perhaps all were in
a mood to drink. Everyone seemed larger than life; the twenty-one
were the only people alive in the universe Toasts were drunk, in-
cluding several to "our unseen host " The name Viole Falushe was
never mentioned.

A troupe of musicians appeared with fiddles, guitars and pipes,
they played wild wailing tunes, which set the heart pounding and
the head swaying. Zuly leapt to her feet and improvised a dance as
wild and abandoned as the music.

Gersen forced himself to sobriety at times like this it was most
important to watch. He saw Lerand Wible whisper to Billika; a
moment later she sidled away and off into the shadows, he too was
gone. The Druids and Druidesses were rapt with the dancing, sit-
ting with heads back, eyes half-closed. Only Hule noticed. He
looked thoughtfully after the two, then crept quietly up to Drusilla
and whispered in her ear.

Drusilla smiled. She turned a flicker of a glance toward Gersen,
and said something in a soft voice. Hule nodded without enthusi-
asm, seated himself close beside her and presently put his arm
around her waist.

A half hour passed. With only Gersen seeming to notice, Wible
and Bitlika were once more among the group, Billika with eyes
bright and mouth soft. It seemed that only a moment later Druidess
Laidig bethought herself of Billika and sought around to locate her.
There sat Billika. Something was amiss, something was new and

THE PALACE OF LOVE 473

different- Druidess Laidig could sense this much, but there was
nothing else to see Her suspicion lulled, she returned to her en-
joyment of the music.

Gersen watched Mano, Ethuen, and Tanzel They sat with
Tralla and Mormce, but it seemed as if their eyes wandered toward
Drusilla. Gersen chewed his lip Viole Falushe—if indeed he were
among the guests—did not seem disposed to yield his identity . . .

Wine, music, firelight—Gersen leaned back, aware of giddiness.
Who among the group was watchful, who attentive5 That person
would be Viole Falushe! Gersen saw no one who seemed other than
relaxed. Druid Dakaw was asleep. Druidess Laidig was nowhere to
be seen. Skebou Diffiani also had disappeared. Gersen chuckled and
leaned toward Navarth to share the joke, then thought better of it.
The fire became embers, the musicians wandered away like figures
in a dream. The guests roused themselves and went by swaying
walkways to their wicker cabins If other assignations had been
made, if other trysts were kept, Gersen had no knowledge of them.

In the morning the guests assembled for breakfast to find that
the wagon was gone, and there was speculation as to what mode of
transport next would be offered them. After breakfast a steward
pointed out a path "There we will go, I have been requested to
guide If all are ready, I suggest that we set off, for there is far to
go before evening "

Hygen Grote spoke in an astonished voice. "You mean to say,
we •walk?'''

"Exactly this. Lord Grote There is no other way to our des-
tination "

"I never expected all this backing and filling," complained
Grote. "I thought that when we were invited to the Palace of Love,
an air car simply took us there."

"I am only a servant, Lord Grote, I can offer no explanation."

Grote turned away, not completely pleased But he had no
choice. Presently his spirits rose and he was the first to start singing
an old walking song of his fraternity at Lublinken College

Over low hills, through glades and groves went the path. They
walked over a wide meadow, startling a number of white birds into
flight, they descended a valley to a lake, where lunch awaited them

The steward would not allow an overlong rest. "There is still
far to go, and we cannot walk fast for fear of tiring the ladies."

474 THK DEMON PRINCES

"I'm already tired," snapped the Druidess Wust. "I don't intend
to move another step."

"Anyone who wishes may return," said the steward. "The path
is plain, and there is staff to assist you along the way. But now it is
time for the rest of us to go on. It is afternoon, and a wind is rising."

Indeed a breeze with a hint of coolness blew small wavelets
across the lake, and the western sky was paved with herringbone
clouds.

Druidess Wust elected to continue with the group, and all set
off along the shore of the lake. Presently the path turned aside,
mounted a slope and struck off across a park of tall trees and long
grass. On and on trudged the party, with the wind at their backs.
With the sun declining behind a range of mountains, they halted
for pastries and tea. Then off once more with the wind sighing
through the branches.

As the sun sank behind the mountains the party entered dank
heavy woods, which seemed all the darker for the going of the sun.

The pace was slow; the older women were tired, though only
Druidess Wust complained. Druidess Laidig wore a grim expres-
sion while Margary Liever strolled along with her customary small
smile. Hygen Grote had lapsed into sulky silence, except for an
occasional terse word to Doranie.

The woods seemed endless; the wind, now distinctly cool,
roared through the upper branches. Dusk fell over the mountains;

at last the party stumbled into a clearing to find a rambling old
forest lodge of timber and stone. The windows glowed with yellow
lights, smoke drifted from a chimney; within must be found warmth
and food and good cheer.

And so it was. The tired travelers, climbing stone steps to the
porch, entered a vast beamed parlor, with bright rugs on the floor
and a roaring blaze in the fireplace. Some of the group sank grate-
fully into deep chairs, others chose to go to their rooms to refresh
themselves. Once again new clothing was issued: for the men black
trousers and short jackets with a dark brown cummerbund; for the
ladies long trailing black gowns with white and brown flowers for
the hair.

Those who had bathed and dressed returned to the parlor, to
the envy of those who still sat tired and dirty; presently all had
bathed and changed into the new dark garments.

Mulled wine was served, and presently a hearty forest dinner—

THE PALACE OF LOl-T. 475

goulash, bread and cheese, red wine—and all the toil of the day
was forgotten.

After dinner the guests gathered around the fireplace to sip
liquors, and now the talk was loud and brave, everyone speculating
as to where lay the Palace of Love. Navarth struck a dramatic pose
in front of the fire. "It is plain!" he cried in a great brassy voice.
"Or is it not? Does not everyone understand, or is it left to old
Navarth the poet to illuminate?"

"Speak, Navarth!" called Ethuen. "Reveal to all vour insight.
Why cherish them for your private pleasures?"

"I have never had that intention; all will know what I know,
and all will feet what I feel. We are midway along in the journey.
Here is where the carelessness, the amplitude, the calm ease depart.
The winds arose at our back and hurried us through the woods.
Our refuse is medievalism!"

"Come now, old man," chaffed Tanxel. "Speak so we can un-
derstand you."

"Those who understand me will do so; those who cannot will
never do so. But all is clear. He knows, he knows!"

Druidess Laidig, impatient with hyperbole, spoke crossly. "He
knows what? Who knows what?"

"What are we all but perambulatory nerves? The artist knows
the linkage of nerve with nerve!"

"Speak for yourself," muttered Diffiani.

Navarth performed one of his extravagant gesticulations. "He
is a poet like myself. Did I not teach him? Every pang of the soul,
even7 wry ache of the mind, every whisper of blood—"

"Navarth! Navarth1" groaned Wible. "Enough! Or at any rate,
something different. Here we are, in this strange old lodge; a per-
fect refuge for ghosts and wipwarks."

Druid Pruitt spoke sententiously, "This is our lore: each man
and each woman is a living seed. When his planting time comes,
he is delved and covered, and finally comes forth as a tree; and each
soul is distinct. There are birches and oaks and lavengars and black
paneys..."

The talk proceeded. The younger and more energetic folk ex-
plored the ancient structure and played hide-and-seek in the long
hall among the billowing amber curtains.

Druidess Laidig became uneasy, and craned her neck to find
Billika. At last she hoisted herself to her feet and went off, looking

476 FUE DEMON PRINCES

here and there, presently to return with a downcast Bilhka. Dru-
idess Laidig muttered something to the Druidess Wust, who
lumped up and went off down the hall. There were loud echoing
voices in the hall, then silence, and a moment later Druidess Wust
returned with Hule, who seemed sullen.

Three minutes later Drusilla came back to the saloon. Her face
was flushed, her eyes alive with something between mirth and mis-
chief. The dark gown suited her beautifully, she had never looked
more beautiful. She crossed the room and slipped into the seat
beside Gersen.

"What happened3" he asked.

"We played a game in the hall. I hid with Hule, and watched,
as you told me, to see who would be most angered."

"And who was?"

"I don't know. Mano says he loves me. Tanzel was laughing,
but he was annoyed. Ethuen said nothing and would not look at

me.

"WTiat were you doing, that they should be angry7 Don't for-
get, it's dangerous to thwart people."

Drusilla's mouth drooped. "Yes I forgot—I should feel fright-
ened .. I do feel frightened when I think about it. But you will take
care of me, won't you?"

"I will if I can."

"You can. I know you can."

"I hope I can . . Well, what was going on to annoy Mano,
Tanzel and Ethuen5"

"Nothing very much. Hule and I sat in an old couch that was
turned backwards. Hule wanted to kiss me, and I let him. The
Druidess found us and embarrassed Hule dreadfully. She called me
names—'Harlot!' 'Lilith'' 'Nymph'' " Drusilla imitated Wust's pe-
culiar grating voice to an exactitude

"And all heard5"

"Yes All heard."

"WTio seemed the most upset2"

Drusilla shrugged. "Sometimes I think one, then the other.
Mano seems the softest. Ethuen has the least humor. Tanzel is
sometimes sarcastic."

Ob\iously, thought Gersen, there had been much which he had
missed "Best that you do not hide with anyone, not even Hule. Be
pleasant to each of the three, but prefer none."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 477

Drusilla's face became bleak and drawn. "I am frightened, re-
ally. When I was with the three women, 1 thought I might run
away. But 1 feared the poison in their rings Do you think they
would have killed me?"

"I don't know. But for now, go to bed and sleep. And open
your door to no one."

Drusilla rose to her feet. W^ith a final cryptic glance at Gersen,
she went to the stairs, ascended to the balcony and entered her
chamber.

One by one the group dwindled, and at last Gersen sat alone
gazing into the dying fire, waiting for he knew not what. . . The
balcony lights were dim, a balustrade obscured his vision. A shape
drifted up to the door of one of the chambers; it quickly opened
and closed.

Gersen waited another hour, while the fire became embers and
the wind blew spatters of rain against the dark windows There was
no further activity. Gersen went to his own bed.

The chamber which had received the visitor, so Gersen noted
the next morning, was that ofTralla Callob, the sociology student.
He watched to see upon whom her eyes rested, but could be sure
of nothing.

This morning all wore similar costumes: gray suede trousers, a
black blouse, a brown jacket, an intricate black hat which was almost
a helmet, with ear flaps flaring rakishly outward

Breakfast, like the meal of the night before, was simple and
substantial, as they ate, the pilgrims cast appraising glances at the
sky. Ragged patches of mist blew over the mountain Directly over-
head was a thin overcast, breaking at the east into tattered clots of
nimbus—a not too cheerful outlook.

After breakfast the steward marshaled the pilgrims, evading
questions put to him.

"How far must we walk today5"—this from Hygen Grote.

"I really don't know, sir. I have never heard the distance men-
tioned. But the sooner we start, the sooner we arrive."

Hygen Grote gave a despondent snort. "This certainly wasn't
what I expected— Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

The path led south from the clearing; all turned to take a final
look at the somber old lodge before it passed from sight.

For several hours the trail wound through the woods. The sky
remained overcast; the gray-mauve light which penetrated the trees

47S I HE DEMON PRINCES

invested with moss, the ferns and the occasional pale flowers with
a peculiarly rich color. Rock)7 outcrops covered with black and red
lichen began to appear; everywhere were fragile little growths not
dissimilar to the fungus of Earth, but taller and many-tiered, ex-
haling a bitter old-age smell when crushed.

The path began to rise, the woods fell below. The pilgrims
found themselves on a rock-strewn slope, with mountains looming
to the west. At a stream they paused to drink and catch their breath,
and the steward distributed sweet biscuits.

To the east spread the forest, gloomy and dark; above loomed
the mountain. Hygen Grote again deprecated the difficulty of the
way, to which the guide made the blandest of replies: "There is
much in what you say, Lord Grote. But as you know, I am only a
servant, with orders to make the journey as convenient and inter-
esting as possible."

"How can trudging these weary miles be interesting or con-
venient" grumbled Grote, to be answered by Margary Liever:

"Come now, Hygen. The scenery is delightful. Look at the view.
And did you not en)oy the romantic old lodge? I did."

"I am sure that this is the hope of the Margrave," said the
steward. "And now, Lords and Ladies, best that we continue."

The trail slanted up the mountain slope- soon Druidess Laidig
and Dorame were falling behind, and the steward courteously
slowed the pace. The path entered a stony gulch, and the ascent
became less steep.

Lunch was brief and austere, consisting of soup, biscuits and
sausage, then once again the pilgrims set off along the trail. Wind
began to strike down the mountainside, a few cold gusts at a time;

overhead dark gray clouds raced to the east. Up the bleak moun-
tainside plodded the pilgrims, and the city Kouhila, the glass-hulled
yacht, the green and gold wagon were only remote memories.
Margary Liever remained cheerful, and Navarth swung along grin-
ning, as if at some malicious |oke. Hygen Grote gave up complain-
ing, saving his breath for the exertion of moving uphill

Halfway through the afternoon a rain squall drove the party to
shelter under a )ut of rock. The sky was dark; an unreal gray light
washed the landscape. The pilgrims in their costumes of black and
umber were as if derived from the same stone and soil as the moun-
tain itself

The trail entered a stony gorge. The pilgrims plodded forward

THE PAL-iCE OF LOVE 479

in silence, the badinage and gentilities of the first few days put aside.
There was another brief shower which the steward ignored, for the
light was waning The gorge widened, but the way ahead was
blocked by a massive stone wall, topped by a row of iron spikes.
The steward went to a black iron postern, raised a knocker and let
it fall. After a long minute, the portal creaked back to reveal a
crooked old man in black garments.

The steward addressed the pilgrims. "Here is where I leave you.
The path lies beyond; you need only follow. Make the best haste
possible, because darkness is not far away."

One by one the group passed through the gap; the portal
clanged shut behind them. For a moment they milled uncertainly,
looking this way and that. The steward and the old man had gone;

there was none to direct them.

Diffiam pointed: "There, the path. It leads up toward the
height "

Painfully the pilgrims proceeded. The path traversed a stonv bar-
ren, crossed a river, once more slanted up through the blowing
wind. P'mally, just as the light failed, the path came out on the ridge
Diffiani, in the lead, pointed ahead. "Lights. A hospice of some
sort."

The group straggled forward, bending to the wind-gusts, turn-
ing faces away from driven drips of ram. A long low stone structure
bulked against the sky7; one or two of the windows showed a wan
yellow illumination. Diffiam found a door, pounded on it with his
fist.

It creaked open and a woman peered forth. "Who are you7
WTry do you come so late7"

"We are travelers, guests tor the Palace of Love," bawled Hy-
gen Grote. "Is this the way7"

"Yes, this is the way Fnter then. Were you expected7"
"Of course we were expected! Is there lodging for us here7"
"Yes, yes," quavered the old woman. "I can give you beds, but
this is the old castle. You should have gone by the other path. Fnter
then. I must look about. You have supped, I trust7"
"No," said Grote despondently, "we have not."
"Perhaps I can find gruel. What a shame the castle is so cold'"
The pilgrims passed into a bleak courtyard, lit by a pair of
feeble lamps. The old woman conducted them one at a time to tall-

480 THE Dt MON PRICES

ceihnged chambers in various quarters of the castle. These were
austere, gloomy, decorated to the precepts of some long-forgotten
tradition Gersen's chamber contained a cot, a single lamp of red
and blue glass. Three walls were black iron, relieved by patterns of
rust. In one of the walls was a door. The fourth wall was paneled
in dark waxed wood and carved with enormous grotesque masks
There was neither tire nor heating, the room was chill.

The old lady, breathless and anxious, told Gersen, "When food
is ready you'll be summoned." She pointed to the door. "Yonder
is the hath, with precious little warm water. One must make do."
And she hurried away. Gersen went into the bathroom, tested the
shower, the water ran hot. He stripped off his clothes, bathed, then
rather than dressing in sodden clothes, he stretched out on the cot
and covered himself with a quilt. Tune passed; Gersen heard a
distant gong strike nine times. There might be supper, again there
might not.  The warmth of the shower had made him drowsy;

and he fell asleep. Vaguely he heard the gong strike ten times, then
eleven. Evidently there was to be no supper . . Gersen turned over
and went back to sleep.

Twelve strokes of the gong. Into the room came a slender
maiden with silky blonde hair. She wore a skintight garment of blue
velvet and blue leather slippers with rolled toes.

Gersen sat up in bed. The maiden spoke, "We have now pre-
pared a meal; all are aroused, all are summoned to eat." She rolled
a wardrobe cart into the room. "I lere are garments; do you require
assistance2" Without waiting for a response, she brought under-
linen to Gersen Presently he was clothed in beautiful fabric after
a style quaint, ornate and complicated. The maiden dressed his hair,
applied gallantry discs to his cheeks, sprayed him with scent. "My
Lord is magnificent," she murmured "And now—a mask, which
tonight is of necessity."

The mask consisted of a black velvet casque fitting down to the
ears, v\ ith a black visor, a nose-cup and a chin-guard; only Gersen's
cheeks, mouth and eves were bare. "Mv Lord is now mysterious as
well," said the maiden in the softest of voices. "I will lead you, tor
the way is by the old corridors."

She took him down a draughty staircase, along a dank, echoing
corridor, with only the feeblest of lamps to light the way. The walls,
once splendid in patterns of magenta, silver and gold, were faded
and blotched, the tiles of the floor were loose . . . The maiden

THE PALALE OF LOVE 4S1

halted by a heavy red pornere. She looked sidelong at Gersen and
put her finger to her lips, with the dim light glowing on her blue
velvet garment, and glinting in her hair, she seemed dreamstuff—
a creature too exquisite to be real. "Lord," she said, "within is our
banquet. I must urge you to mystery, for this is the game all must
play and you may not speak your name." She pulled aside the por-
tiere, Gersen stepped through into a vast hall. From a ceiling so
high as to be unseen hung a single chandelier, casting an island of
light around a great table laid with linen, silver and crystal

Here sat a dozen people in the most elaborate of costumes,
wearing masks. Gersen examined them, but recogni/ed none. Were
they his fellows along the journey'" He could not be sure. Others
entered the room. Now they came by twos and threes, all masked
and all moving with an air of wonder.

Gersen recognized Navarth, whose swaggering gait was unmis-
takable. The girl, was she Drusilla5 He could not be certain.

Forty people had entered the room, converging slowly upon
the table. F'ootmen in silver and blue livery assisted all to seats;

poured wine in the goblets, serving from silver trays

Gersen ate and drank, aware of a peculiar confusion, almost
bewilderment. Where and what w^s reality^ The rigors of the )our-
ney seemed as remote as childhood. Gersen drank somewhat more
wine than he might have under different circumstances.  The
chandelier exploded in a dazzling burst of green light, then went
out. Gersen's eyes pro|ected orange afterimages into the dark, from
around the table came whispers and hisses of surprise.

The chandelier slowly returned to normal A tall man stood on
a chair. He wore black garments and a black mask; he held a goblet
of wine in his hand. "Guests." he said, "I make you welcome. I am
Viole Falushe. You have attained the Palace of Love "

12

Avis rara, black mascara
Will you stay to dine with me?
Amanita botulina
Underneath my upas tree.

This dainty tray of cloisonne
Contains my finest patchouli.
Aha, my dear! What have we here?
A dead mouse in the potpourri.

With mayonnaise the canapes,
Ravished from a sturgeon^ womb;

With silver prong we guide along
The squeaking oyster to his doom.

A samovar of hangdog tea:

A cup, or are you able?
Antimony, macaroni
On my hemlock table.

—Navarth

"There are many varieties of love/' said Viole Falushe in a pleas-
ant husky voice. "The range is wide, and all have contributed to
the creation of the palace. Not all of my guests discover this, and
not every phase is yielded to them. For some the palace will seem
little more than a holiday resort. Others will be haunted by what
has been described as unnatural beauty. This is everywhere: in every
detail, every view. Others will revel in ardor, and here I must offer
information."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 483

Gersen studied Viole Falushe with a rapt intensity. The tall
masked figure stood spare, straight, arms at sides; Gersen turned
his head this way and that, trying to identify the figure, but the
chandelier hanging directly above the man distorted his contours.

"The people at the Palace of Love are amiable, gay and beau-
tiful, they fall into two categories," said Viole Falushe. "The first
are servants. They are pleased to obey every wish of my guests,
every whim or caprice. The second class, the happy people who
inhabit the palace, are as independent in their friendships as I my-
self. They are to be identified by their garments, which are white.
Hence, your choice is wide."

Gersen sought around the table, trying to find Tanzel, or Mario
or Ethuen and thus eliminate them from suspicion. In this effort
he was unsuccessful. Among the forty were a dozen persons who
might be any of the three. He turned back to listen to Viole Fa-
lushe.

"Are there restrictions? A person who went mad and began to
kill would naturally be restrained. Then again, all of us here cherish
our privacy, one of our most delightful prerogatives. Only the most
thoughtless person would intrude where he was not wanted. My
personal apartments are sufficiently secluded; you need not appre-
hend an accidental intrusion; this is almost impossible." Viole Fa-
lushe turned his head slowly, looked around the room. No one
spoke; the room was heavy with expectancy.

Viole Falushe continued speaking. "So now—the Palace of
Love! At times in the past I have arranged small dramas of which
the participants were never aware. I have contrived moods in artful
sequence. I have employed tragic contrasts to heighten the delec-
tation. On this occasion there will be no such program. You will
be free to do as you like, to create your own drama. I advise re-
straint. The rare jewels are the most precious. The degree of aus-
terity I myself practice would astound you. My great pleasure is
creation—of this I never tire. Some of my guests have complained
of a gentle melancholy which hangs in the air; I agree that the mood
exists. The explanation, I believe, arises from the fugacity of beauty,
the tragic pavane to which all of us step. Ignore this mood; why
brood, when there is so much love and beauty here? Take what is
offered; have no regrets. A thousand years from now it will be all
the same. Satiety is a problem, but it is your own. I cannot protect
you. The servants are to serve; command them. The residents who

484 I HF UFMON PRINCES

wear white are to woo—to beguile. I pray that you do not become
infatuated either with the palace or its people; such a situation pre-
sents difficulties. You will not see me, though spiritually I am always
in your midst There are no spy devices, no sound transmitters, no
vision cells. Upbraid me if you choose, revile me, praise me—I
cannot hear. My only reward is the act of creation and the effect it
produces. Do you wish to look forth on the Palace of Love? Turn
then in your seats'"

The far wall slid away; daylight poured into the hall. Before the
guests spread a landscape of mmd-wrenching beauty: wide lawns,
feathery green-bower trees, tall black cypress, twinkling birch;

ponds, pools, marble urns, pavilions, terraces, rotundas; constructed
to an airy delicate architecture that seemed almost to float.

Gersen, like the others, had been startled by the sudden open-
ing of the wall. Recovering he )umped to his feet, but the man in
black had disappeared.

Gersen sought out Navarth. "Who was it? Mano2 Tanzel?
Ethuen?"

Navarth shook his head. "I did not notice. I have been looking
for the girl. Where is she?"

With a sudden sinking feeling Gersen swung around. None of
the people in the room was Drusilla. "When did you see her last?"

"When we arrived, when we came into the courtyard."

Already the )ourney seemed remote. Gersen muttered. "I hoped
to protect her. I told her so. She trusted me."

Navarth made an impatient motion. "You could have done
nothing."

Gersen went to the window, looked across the panorama. To
the left was the sea, a group of distant islands. To the right moun-
tains reared ever higher and harsher, with cliffs falling to the valley
floor. Below was the Palace, a loose grouping of terraces, halls and
pleasances. A door slid aside to reveal a descending staircase. One
by one the guests descended to the valley.

The precincts of the Palace occupied a roughly hexagonal area per-
haps a mile on a side. The base was the north cliff, with the Palace
at its midpoint. The second side, clockwise, was demarcated by a
line of rocky crags, the gaps between which were choked by rank
thorny thickets. The third side was white beach and warm blue sea.
The fourth and fifth sides were less distinct, and merged into the

THE PALACE OF LOVE 485

natural landscape. The sixth side, angling back to the cliff, was de-
marcated by a line of carefully cultivated flower beds and fruit trees
arranged against a rude stone wall. Within the area were three vil-
lages, innumerable glades, gardens, waterways. The guests wan-
dered where they chose, spent the long days in whatever fashion
seemed most pleasurable. Bright mornings, golden afternoons, eve-
nings and nights: one by one they drifted away.

The servants, as Viole Falushe had implied, were acquiescent
and possessed of great physical charm. The folk in white, even more
beautiful than the underservants, were innocent and willful as chil-
dren. Some were cordial, some were perverse and impudent, all
were unpredictable. It seemed as if their sole ambition was to evoke
love, to tantalize, to fill the mind with longing, and they became
depressed only when guests found the underservants preferable to
themselves. They showed no awareness of the worlds of the uni-
verse, and only small curiosity, though their minds were active and
their moods mercurial. They thought only of love, and the various
aspects of fulfillment. As Viole Falushe had hinted, infatuation too
intense might lead to tragedy; of this danger the people in white
were gravely aware, but made small effort to avoid the danger.

The mystery of the Druids' presence resolved itself. On the first
day after arrival Dakaw, Pruitt, Laidig and Wust, with Hule and
Billika in careful convoy, explored the precincts, and fixed upon a
delightful little glade for their center of operations. To the back
rose a line of black cypress, to right and left were lower trees and
flowering shrubs, at the center was a great spraddle-rooted oak. In
front of the glade a pair of shelters was erected: low domes of pale
brown fiber. Here the group took up residence, and thereafter, each
morning and afternoon held evangelical meetings, expounding the
nature of their religion to all who came past. With great fervor they
urged rigor, harshness, restraint and ritual upon the folk of the
garden, who listened politely enough, but after the meetings enticed
the Druids to relaxation and pleasure. Gersen decided that the
whole affair was one of Viole Falushe's wry )okes: a game he had
chosen to play with the Druids. The other guests arrived at the
same conclusion, and attended the meetings to judge whose doc-
trines would triumph.

The Druids worked with great intensity, and built a fane of
stones and twigs. Standing at the front one or the other would cry
out: "Must you all then die to become dead^ The mode to the

4S6 THE DEMON PRINCES

Eternal is through minglement with a Vitality more enduring than
your own. The source of all is the Triad Mag-Rag-Dag—Air, Earth
and Water. This is the Holy Immanence, which combines to pro-
duce the Tree of Life! The Tree is the wise, the vital, the enduring!
Look at lesser things: insects, flowers, fish, man. See how they grow,
bloom, lapse, while the Tree in its placid wisdom lives on. Yea, you
titillate your flesh, you £ror^e your stomach, you flood your brain
with vapor— What then? How soon you die, while the noble Tree,
with roots in Earth, holds innumerable leaves to the glory of the
sky. Forever! And when vour flesh sags and withers, when your
nerves no longer leap, when your belly is sour, when your nose
drips from the liquor you have misused—then is no time to worship
the Tree! No, no, no! For the Tree will have none of your corrup-
tion. All must be fresh and good. So worship. Give over the sterile
cavortings, the animal gratifications! Worship the Tree!"

The palace folk listened with respect and awe. It was impossible
to judge how deeply the Druid doctrine touched them. Meanwhile
Dakaw and Pruitt began to dig a great hole under the oak, burrow-
ing down between the sprawled roots. Hule and Billika were not
allowed to dig and showed no disposition to do so; indeed they
watched the process with horrified fascination.

The palace folk, in their turn, insisted that the Druids partici-
pate in their festivities, arguing: "You wish us to learn your ways,
but in all fairness you must know the way we live too, so that you
may judge our lives and see if after all we are corrupt!" Grudgingly
the Druids acquiesced, sitting in a huddled group and maintaining
the closest possible strictures upon Hule and Billika.

The other guests watched with varied reactions. Skebou Diffi-
ani attended the meetings with regularity and presently, to the
astonishment of all, announced his intent to become a Druid.
Thereafter he donned black robe and cowl and joined the others at
their rituals. Torrace da Nossa spoke of the Druids with pitying
contempt. Lerand Wible, who along the way had displayed an in-
terest in Billika, threw up his arms in disgust and stayed away.
Mario, Ethuen and Tanzel went their own ways and were seen but
seldom. Navarth had become obsessed. He roved the garden, mo-
rose, dissatisfied, looking this way and that. He took no joy in the
beauty of the garden and went so far as to sneer at Viole Falushe's
arrangements. "There is no novelty here; the pleasures are banal.
There are no exhilarations, no staggering insights, no sublime

THE PALACE OF LOVE 487

sweep of mind. All is either gross or maudlin—the gratification of
gut and gland."

"This may be true," Gersen admitted. "The pleasures of the
place are simple and undramatic. But what is wrong with this?"

"Nothing. But it is not poetry."

"It is all very beautiful. To do Viole Falushe credit, he has
avoided the macabre, the sadistic spectacles, which occur elsewhere,
and he allows his servants a certain degree of integrity."

Navarth made a sour grumbling sound. "You are an innocent.
The more exotic pleasures he reserves for himself. W^ho knows
what goes on beyond the walls? He is a man who halts at nothing.
And integrity in these people? Bathos! They are dolls, toys, con-
fections. No doubt many are the little children extorted from Kou-
hila—those he did not sell to the Mahrab. And when they lose their
youth, what then? Where do they go?"

Gersen only shook his head. "I don't know."

"And where isJheral Tinzy?" Navarth went on. "Where is the
girl? What does he do with her? He has had her at his mercy."

Gersen gave a grim nod. "I know."

"You know," jeered Navarth, "but only after I reminded you.
You are not only innocent, you are futile and foolish—no less than
myself. She trusted you to protect her, and what have you done?
Swilled and trolloped with the others, and this is the extent of vour
effort."

Gersen thought the outburst exaggerated but made a mild re-
ply. "If I could contrive some feasible course of action, I would do

so.

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I am learning."

"Learning what?"

"I find that none of the people here know Viole Falushe by
sight. His offices seem to be somewhere back in the mountains; I
can find them nowhere in the valley. I dare not try to cross the
stone wall to the west, nor the thorn barrier to the east; I would
certainly be apprehended and, journalist or not, dealt with harshly.
Since I have no weapons I can demand nothing. I must be patient.
If I do not speak to him here at the Palace of Love, I will no doubt
find opportunity elsewhere."

"All for your magazine, eh?"

"WTiy else?" asked Gersen.

488 THE DEMON PRINCES

They had come to the glade of the Druids. Dakaw and Pruitt
were delving as usual below the great oak, where they had excavated
a chamber tall enough for a man to stand erect.

Navarth approached, peered down into the sweating dust-
streaked faces. "WTiat do you do down there, you burrowing Dru-
ids? Are you not pleased with the vista above ground that you seek
a new viewpoint below?"

"You are facetious," said Pruitt coldly. "Be on your way; this
is holy soil."

"How can you be so sure? It looks like ordinary dirt."

Neither Pruitt nor Dakaw made response.

Navarth barked down, "What sort of mischief are you up to?
This is no ordinary pastime. Speak now."

"Go aw^y, old poet," said Pruitt. "Your breath is a pollution
and saddens the Tree."

Navarth moved back and watched the digging from a little dis-
tance. "I do not like holes in the ground," he told Gersen. "They
are unpleasant. Look at Wible yonder. He stands as if he were
overseer to the project!" Navarth pointed toward the entrance to
the glade, where Wible stood, legs apart, hands clasped behind his
back, whistling between his teeth. Navarth joined him. "The work
of the Druids enthralls you?"

"Not at all," said Lerand Wible. "They dig a grave."

"As I suspected. For whom?"

"That I can't be sure. Perhaps you—perhaps me."

"I doubt ifthev will inter me," said Navarth. "You may be more
pliable."

"I doubt if they will inter anyone," said W^ble, whistling once
more through his teeth.

"Indeed? How can you be so sure?"

"Come to the consecration and see for yourself."

"When does this rite occur?"

"Tomorrow night, so I have been informed."

Little music was to be heard on the grounds of the palace; the quiet
of the garden was as crystalline and clear as a dewdrop. But on the
following morning the folk in white brought forth stringed instru-
ments and for an hour played a wistful music rich with plangent
overtones. A sudden shower sent all hurrying to the shelter of a
nearby rotunda, where they stood chattering like birds and peering

THE PALACE OF LOVE 489

up at the sky. Gersen, contemplating their faces, thought how frail
and tenuous was the connection between them and the guests. Did
they know anything except frivolity and love? And there was the
question raised by Navarth: What happened when they aged? Few
in the garden were past the first bloom of their maturity.

The sun came forth; the garden glinted with freshness. Gersen,
drawn by curiosity went to the Druids' glade. Within one of the
shelters he glimpsed Billika's pale face. Then Wust came to stare
at him from the doorway.

The long afternoon passed. Today a portent hung in the air,
and uneasiness seemed to infect everyone. Evening arrived; the sun
sank in a great tumult of clouds; gold, orange and red flamed over-
head and far into the east. With the coming of dusk, folk of the
garden went to the Druids' glade. To each side of the oak tree were
fires, tended bv Druidess Laidig and Dmidess Wust.

Druid Pruitt emerged from his shelter. He went to the fane and
began his address. His voice was heavy and resonant; he paused
frequently, as if to hear the echoes of his words.

Lerand Wible approached Gersen. "I am speaking to everyone
in our group. Whatever happens—do not interfere. Do you agree
to this?"

"Naturally not."

"I didn't think you would. Well then—" Wible whispered a
few words; Gersen grunted. Wible moved off to speak to Navarth,
who tonight was carrying a staff. After Wible spoke, Navarth threw
down his staff.

"—On each world a hallowed Tree. How does it become so?
By the afflatus, by the concentration of Life. Oh worshipful Druids,
who share the life of the First Germ, bring forth your awe, your
most poignant dedication! WTiat say we? Two are here, two have
lived for this consecration. Come forth, Druids, go to the Tree!"
From one shelter staggered Hule, from the other Billika. Baffled,
dull-eyed as if bewildered or drugged, they stared this way and that,
then saw the fires. Fascinated they approached, step by slow step.
Silence was heavy in the glade. The two approached the tree,
looked at the fires, then descended into the hole below the tree.

"Behold!" called Pruitt. "They enter the life of the Tree—oh
blessed pair—which now becomes the Soul of the W^orld. Exalted
children, lucky two! Forever and ever stand in sun, in rain, by day,
by night; and help us to truth!" Druids Dakaw, Pruitt and Diffiani

490 11 II DIMON PRINCES

began to spade earth into the hole. They worked \uth gusto. In
half an hour the hole was fall, the soil banked around the roots
The Druids marched around the tree, holding brands from the rire.
Each called forth an invocation, and the ceremony ended with a
chant.

The Druids customarily breakfasted at the refectory of the near
village. The morning after the consecration they marched across
the meadows, entered the refectory. Behind them came Hule and
Bilhka. The Druids took their usual places, as did Hule and Billika.

Wust was the first to notice. She pointed a trembling finger.
Laidig screamed. Pruitt leapt away, then turned and ran from the
refectory. Dakaw fell back like a half-filled sack; Skcbou Diffiam,
sitting bolt upright, stared in puzzlement. Hule and Billika ignored
the consternation they had caused.

Laidig, sobbing and gasping, reeled from the room, followed
by Wust. Diffiam was the least disturbed He spoke to Hule. "How
did you get out^'

"By a tunnel," said Hule. "Wible caused a tunnel to be dug."

Wible came forward. "The servants are here to be used. I used
them. We dug a tunnel."

Diffiani nodded slowly. He reached up, took off his cowl, in-
spected it and tossed it into a corner.

Dakaw, roaring, rose to his feet. He struck once at Hule, knock-
ing him to the floor; then aimed a tremendous blow at Wible, who
stepped back, grinning. "Go back to your tree, Dakaw. Dig another
hole and bury yourself."

Dakaw marched from the inn.

Wust and Laidig were finally discovered, crouching in a bower.
Pruitt had run south, bevond the precincts of the garden and was
seen no more.

In some fashion the episode with the Druids had broken a web.
The guests, looking at each other, knew that the end of their visit
was approaching, that soon they would be departing the Palace of
Love.

Gersen stood looking up at the mountains Patience was well
and good, but he might never be so close to Viole Falushe again

He pondered the small clues he had gleaned. It seemed reason-
able to suppose that the banquet hall communicated with Viole

THE IMl^LE OF LOl-V 491

Falushe's apartments. Gersen went to examine the portal at the foot
of the stairs. It showed a blank featureless face. The mountainside
above was not climbable.

To the east, where crags reared over the sea, Viole Falushe had
set a thorn palisade. To the west the way was barred by a stone
wall. Gersen turned to look south. If he made a long journey, cir-
cling the periphery of the garden, he would then be able to climb
into the mountains to approach the area from above .. This was
the sort of purposeless activity Gersen detested. He would be mov-
ing without knowledge, without plan. There must be some better
method, but he could think of none. Very well, then—activity. He
looked at the sun; six hours of daylight remained He must go far
afield and trust to luck. If he were apprehended, he was Henry
Lucas, journalist, in search of information: a statement of sufficient
force, unless Viole Falushe undertook to use a truth-extracting de-
vice . . . Gersen's flesh crawled. The sensation annoyed him. He had
become soft, diffident, overwary. Reproaching himself first for cow-
ardice, then for willful recklessness, he set forth, walking south,
away from the mountains.

13

From Worlds I Have Knoii'n, by L G Dusenyi

The municipal Temple at Astropolis is a splendid
edifice of red porphyry with a noteworthy altar of solid
silver The Astropolitans are divided into thirteen cults,
each dedicated to a distinct Supreme Deity To deter-
mine which image sits on high, the Astropolitans each
seven years conduct a Tournament of the Gods, with
trials to measure Paramount Power, Inaccessible Loft-
iness and Ineffable Mystery

At the first trial wooden god-images are mounted
upon onagers, each hitched to a heavy log The onagers
then are urged around a track, and the winning god is
credited with Paramount Power

At the second trial the images are thrust into a glass
cauldron which is then sealed and inverted The god
which floats on high is credited with Inaccessible Loft-
mess

The images are then concealed behind booths
Candidates for sacrifice are brought forward, and each
attempts to guess the god behind each booth The can-
didate with the lowest score receives unction and the
blade, while the god who most efficiently conceals his
identity is )udged Ineffably Mysterious

Over the past twenty-eight years the god Kalzibah
has proved himself so consistently and the god Syarasis
has so often failed that the Syaratics are gradually de-
serting the cult to become ardent Kal/ibahans

THE PALACE OF I OVT 493

The garden ended at a grove of indigenous trees, of a type Gersen
had not seen before tall, gaunt organisms with pulpy black leaves,
from which dripped a musty unpleasant sap Fearing poison, Gersen
breathed as shallowly as possible, and was relieved to reach open
ground with no other sensation than dizziness To the east toward
the ocean were orchards and cultivated soil, to the west a dozen
long sheds were visible Barns^ Warehouses^ Dormitories2 Keeping
to the shadow of the trees Gersen walked west, and presently came
upon a road leading from the sheds toward the mountains

No living creature was in sight The sheds seemed deserted.
Gersen decided not to explore them, they certainly were not the
headquarters of Viole Falushe

Across the road was a wild area overgrown with thorny scrub.
Gersen looked dubiously down the road Best to travel by the bar-
rens, there would be less chance of discovery. He ducked across the
road and struck off toward the mountains The afternoon sun shone
brightly, the scrub was host to swarms of small red mites, which
set up an impatient whirring sound when disturbed. Stepping
around a hummock—a hive or a nest of some sort—Gersen came
upon a bloated serpenthke creature with a face uncannily human
The creature saw Gersen with an expression of comical alarm, then,
rearing back, it displayed a proboscis from which it evidently in-
tended to e]ect a fluid Gersen beat a quick retreat, and thereafter
walked more wanly

The road veered west away from the garden Gersen crossed
once more and took shelter under a cluster of yellow bladder-plants
He considered the mountain, tracing a route which would bring
him to the ridge Unfortunately, while climbing, he would be ex-
posed to the gaze of anyone who happened by   No help for it
He took a last look around, and seeing nothing to dissuade him,
set forth

The mountainside was steep, at times precipitous, Gersen made
discouragmgly slow progress The sun swung across the sky Below
spread the Palace of Love and the garden Gersen's chest pounded,
and his throat felt numb, as if it had been anesthetized .  The
influence of the noxious black-leaved forest? Ever higher he
climbed, the panorama below grew even wider

For a space the way became easier, and Gersen angled toward
the east, where presumably Viole Falushe maintained his head-
quarters Motion Gersen stopped short From the corner of his

494 THE DEMON PRINCES

eyes he had seen—what? He could not be sure. The flicker had
come from below and to his right. He scrutinized the face of the
mountain, and presently saw what otherwise might have evaded his
attention—a deep cleft or fissure with a bridge between two arched
apertures, the whole camouflaged by a stone wall.

Clutching and straining, Gersen angled down toward the cleft,
finally reaching a point thirty feet above the walkway. There was
no means to descend. He could go neither forward nor up nor
down. His fingers were tiring, his legs were cramped. Thirty feet—
too far to jump; he would break his legs. Out upon the bridge came
a pale stoop-shouldered man with a large moist head, a clipped
shock of black-gray hair. He wore a white jacket and black trousers.
It was the white jacket, Gersen now realized, which had originally
drawn his attention. If the man should look up, if a dislodged pebble
should strike the bridge, Gersen was lost.. . The man moved into
the opposite aperture and out of sight. Gersen gave a fantastic grav-
ity-defying leap, to throw himself into the angle of the cleft. He
thrust out his legs, doubled his knees, pressing between the walls.
Inch by inch he let himself down, gratefully jumping the final six
feet. He stretched, massaged sore muscles, then limped over to the
western doorway into which the man had disappeared. A white-
tiled hall led back fifty yards, broken by areas of glass and occasional
doorways. Beside one of these glass areas stood the stoop-
shouldered man, peering at something which had attracted his at-
tention. He raised his hand, and signaled. From somewhere beyond
Gersen's range of vision came a heavy-shouldered man with a thick
neck, narrow head, a coarse yellow brush of hair and white eyes.
The two looked through the glass, and the white-eyed man seemed
to be amused.

Gersen drew back. Crossing the walkway, he looked up the
passage to the east, to see a single doorway at the far end. The walls
and floor were white tile; ornate lamps scattered rays and planes of
various colors.

With long stealthy strides Gersen went to the far door. He
touched the open button. No response. He sought for code points
or a lock hole, without success. The opening-mechanism was con-
trolled from the other side. In one sense this was encouraging—
the stoop-shouldered man had come this way, and it could only be
to confer with whomever sat or stood or worked beyond the door.

It would not do to attract attention. Yet, Gersen must do some-

THE PALACE OF LOVE 495

thing and quickly. At any moment one of the two men might ap-
proach, and he had nowhere to hide. He scrutinized the door with
great care. The latch was magnetic; retraction was accomplished by
an electro-muscle. The escutcheon plate was fixed to the panel with
adhesive. Gersen searched his pockets but found nothing of utility.
Loping back down the hall, he reached up to the first lighting fix-
ture and twisted loose a decorative metal cusp with a sharp point.
Returning to the door he pried at the escutcheon plate, presently
snapped it free, to reveal the mechanism of the open button. Gersen
traced the circuit, and with the point of his metal cusp shorted
across the relay contacts. He touched the button. The door slid
aside, silent as a whisper.

Gersen passed through the opening into an unoccupied foyer.
He replaced the escutcheon plate and let the door slide shut.

There was much to see. The far end of the room was ripple
glass. To the left an archway opened upon a flight of stairs. To the
right were five cinematic panels, each displaying Jheral Tinzy in
various guises at different stages of existence.-Or were they five
different girls? One, wearing a short black skirt, was Drusilla Way-
les. Gersen recognized the expression on her face, the droop to her
mouth, the restless habit of tossing her head to the side. Another,
this a delightful imp in clown's regalia, cavorted on a stage. AJheral
Tinzy of thirteen or fourteen in the translucent white gown of a
sleepwalker moved slowly across an eerie setting of stone, black
shadow and sand. A fourth Jheral Tinzy, a year or two younger
than Drusilla, wore only a barbaric skirt of leather and bronze. She
stood on a stone-flagged terrace and seemed to be performing a
religious ritual. A fifth Jheral Tinzy, a year or two older than Dru-
silla, walked briskly along a city street. . .

Gersen glimpsed all this in the space of two seconds. The effect
was fascinating, but he could not spare time to look. For beyond
the ripple-glass wall was the distorted image of a tall spare man.

Gersen crossed the foyer on four silken strides. His hand went
to the open button of the door; he tensed, touched the button. The
door failed to open. Gersen exhaled: a long slow sigh of frustration.
The man turned his head sharply; all Gersen could see was distor-
tion and blur. "Retz? Back once more?" he jerked his head suddenly
forward; the glass was evidently permeable to his vision. "It's Lu-
cas—Henry Lucas the journalist!" His voice took on a harsh edge.
"There is a need for much explanation. What are you doing here?"

THE DEMON PRINCES

496

"The answer is obvious," said Gersen. "I came here to inter-
view you. There seemed no other way."

"How did you find my office?"

"I climbed the mountain, jumped down where the walkway
crosses the notch. Then I came along the passageway."

"Indeed, indeed. Are you a human fly to traverse the cliff?"

"It was not so difficult," said Gersen. "There would be no other
opportunity."

"This is a serious annoyance," said Viole Falushe. "Do you
recall my comments on the subject of privacy? I am rigid on this

score.

"Your comments were addressed to your guests," said Gersen.
"I am here as a man with a job to do."

"Your occupation gives you no license to break laws," Viole
Falushe stated in a gentle voice. "You are aware of my wishes,
which here, as elsewhere in the cluster, are law. I find your trespass
not only insolent but inexcusable. In fact, it goes far beyond the
brashness ordinarily tolerated in a journalist. It almost seems—"

Gersen interrupted. "Please, do not let your imagination dom-
inate your sense of proportion. I am interested in the photographs
in the foyer. They seem to be the likeness of the young lady who
accompanied us on our Journey; Navarth's ward."

"This is the case," said Viole Falushe. "I have a strong interest
in the young w-oman. I entrusted her upbringing to Navarth with
unhappy results; she is a wanton."

"Where is she now? I have not seen her since we arrived at the
Palace."

"She is enjoying her visit in circumstances somewhat different
from yours," said Viole Falushe. "But why your interest? She is
nothing to you."

"Except that I befriended her and tried to clarity certain issues
which she found confusing."

"And these issues were?"

"You will allow me to use candor?"

"Why not? You can hardly provoke me more than you already
have."

"The girl was fearful of what might happen to her. She wanted
to live a normal life, but did not care to risk retaliation for actions
she could not avoid."

THE PAl^CE OF LOVT.

497

Viole Falushe's voice trembled. "Is this how she spoke of me?
Only in terms of fear and retaliation?"

"She had no reason to speak otherwise."

"You are a bold man, Mr. Lucas. Surely you know my repu-
tation. I subscribe to a doctrine of general equity—that he who
commits a grievance must repair the effects of his act."

"What ofJheral Tinzy?" Gersen inquired, hoping to divert Vi-
ole Falushe.

"Jheral Tinzy." Viole Falushe breathed the name. "DearJheral:

as wilful and promiscuous as the unfortunate girl whom you be-
friended. Jheral could never quite repay the damage she wrought
upon me. Oh, those wasted years!" Viole Falushe's voice quavered;

grief lay near the surface. "Never could she requite her wrongs,
though she did her best."

"She is alive?"

"No." Viole Falushe^s mood changed once more. "Why do you
ask?"

"I am a journalist. You know why I am here. I want a photo-
graph ofJheral Tinzy for our article."

"This is a matter I do not care to publicize."

"I am puzzled by the resemblance between Jheral Tinzy and
the girl Drusilla. Can you explain this?"

"I could," said Viole Falushe. "But I do not choose to do so.
And there still remains your intrusion, which has shocked me, to
such an extent that I demand retribution." And Viole Falushe
leaned negligently back against an article of furniture.

Gersen reflected a moment. Flight was futile. Attack was im-
possible. Viole Falushe certainly carried a weapon; Gersen had
none. Galling though the situation might be he must persuade Vi-
ole Falushe to change his mind. He tried a reasonable approach.
"Conceivably I violated the letter of your regulations, but what avail
is an article on the Palace of Love without the comments of its
creator? There is no communicating with you, since you choose to
keep yourself aloof from your guests."

Viole Falushe seemed surprised. "Navarth knows my call-code
well. A servant would have brought you a telephone unit; you might
have called me at any time."

"This did not occur to me," said Gersen thoughtfully. "No, I
had not considered the telephone. You say Navarth knows the
code?"

rm DI'VIO\ PRINCFS

49S

"Certainly. It is the same as that which I use on Earth."

"The fact remains," said Gersen, "I am here. You have seen
Part One of the pro)ected article, Parts Two and Three are even
more highly colored. If we want to present your point of view, it
is important that we speak together. So open the door and we will
discuss the matter."

"No," said Viole Falushe. "It is my whim to remain anony-
mous, since I enjoy mingling with my guests . . . Well, then," he
grumbled, "I suppose I must swallow my outrage. It is not )ust that
you should evade your debt to me. Perhaps you will not in any
event. For the moment, you may regard yourself as reprieved " He
spoke a soft word that Gersen did not hear; a door opened m the
foyer. "Go within; this is my library. I will speak with you there."

Gersen passed into a long room carpeted in dark green. A heavy
table at the center supported a pair of antique lamps and a selection
of current periodicals. One wall was lined with ancient books, the
shelves sliding up or down through floor and ceiling to magazines
above and below. There was a standard microreference system, a
number of soft chairs.

Gersen looked around with a trace of envy; the atmosphere was
quiet, civilized, rational, remote from the hedonistic life of the Pal-
ace. A screen glowed to reveal Viole Falushe sprawling in a chair.
A light threw his form into silhouette; he was no more identifiable
now than before.

"Very well then," said Viole Falushe, "so here we are. You have
been making your photographic records, I believe2"

"I have several hundred pictures. More than necessary to cover
the superficial aspects of the Palace—that which you display to your
guests."

Viole Falushe seemed amused. "And you are curious as to what
else occurs2"

"From a journalistic standpoint."

"Hm. What do you think of the Palace then2"

"It is remarkably pleasant "

"You have a reservation?"

"Something is lacking. Perhaps the flaw lies in your servants.
They lack depth, they do not seem real."

"I recognize this," said Viole Falushe. "They ha\e no
traditions. The only remedy is time."

"They are also without responsibility. After all, they are slaves."

THE PALACE OF IA)VE 499

"Not quite, for they do not realize it. They consider themselves
the Fortunate Folk, and such they are. It is precisely this unreality,
this sense of faerie, that I have been at pains to develop."

"And when they age, what then2 WTiat becomes of the Fortu-
nate Folk2"

"Some work the farms surrounding the gardens Some are sent
elsewhere."

"To the real world3 They are sold as slaves3"

"All of us are slaves in some wise."

"How are you a slave2"

"I am victim to a terrible obsession. I was a sensitive boy, cru-
elly thwarted; I daresay Navarth has provided the details. Rather
than submit, I was forced, by my sense of justice, to seek compen-
sation—which I am still seeking. I am a man much maligned. The
public considers me a voluptuous sybarite, an erotic glutton. The
reverse is true. I am—why mince matters3—absolutely ascetic. I
must remain so until my obsession is relieved. I am a man cursed.
But you are not interested in my personal problems, since naturally
they are not for publication "

"Nevertheless, I am interested. Jheral Tmzy is the source of
your obsession2"

"Precisely." Viole Falushe spoke in a measured voice. "She had
blighted my life. She must expunge this blight. Is this not justice2
To date she has proved unwilling, incapable."

"How could she remove the obsession2"

Viole Falushe stirred fretfully in his chair "Are you so un-
imaginative2 We have explored the matter far enough."

"So Jheral Tinzy is yet alive?"

"Yes indeed."

"But I understood you to say that she was dead."

"Life, death—these are imprecise terms."

"Who then is Drusilla, the girl you left with Navarth2 Is she
Jheral Tmzy2"

"She is who she is. She made a dreadful mistake. She failed and
Navarth failed, for Navarth should have schooled her. She is friv-
olous and wanton; she trafficked with other men, and she must serve
as Jheral Tmzy served. Thus it shall be, forever and ever, until
finally there is expiation, until I can feel soothed and whole. By this
time there is a terrible score to pay. Thirty years' Think of it!"

500 THE DFMON PRINCFS

Viole Falushe's voice vibrated and cracked "Thirty years sur-
rounded by beauty, and incapable ofen)oymg it' Thirty long years'"

"I would not presume to give you advice," said Gersen, some-
what dryly

"I need no advice, and naturally, what I tell you is in confidence
You would be ungracious to publish it I would be grieved and
forced to demand satisfaction "

"What then may I publish3"

"Whatever you like, so long as I am not m|ured."

"WTiat of the other events here^ WTiat goes on at the other
end of the hall?"

Viole Falushe considered him a moment Gersen could sense
but not see the smoulder in his eyes But he spoke in a light voice
"This is the Palace of Love I am interested m the subject, even
fascinated, through the mechanism of sublimation I have an elab-
orate program of research under way I explore the emotion in
artificial and arbitrary circumstances I do not choose to discuss the
matter any further at this time Perhaps five years from now, or
ten, I will publish a resume of my findings. They will provide fas-
cinating insights "

"In regard to the photographs m the foyer—"

Viole Falushe jumped to his feet "No more' We have talked
too much, I find myself uneasy. You have provoked this, hence I
have arranged a similar uneasiness for you, which will go far to
soothe me Thereafter, caution, discretion' Make the most of your
time, because shortly you must return to Reality "

"WTiat of you3 You remain here31'

"No 1 shall also leave the Palace My work here is accom-
plished, and I have an important mission on Alphanor, which well
may change all   Be so good as to step into the hall My friend
Helaunce awaits you "

Helaunce, thought Gersen This would be the white-eyed man
Slowly, with Viole Falushe watching him from the screen, Gersen
turned and went to the door The white-eyed man waited in the
hall He carried an ob)ect something like a flail, a rod terminating
m a set of cords He appeared to carry no other weapon

"Remove your clothes," said Helaunce "You are to be chas-
tised "

"Best that you confine your chastisement to words," said Ger-

THE PAL4CF OF LOVE 501

sen "Revile me all you like, in the meantime let us return to the
garden "

Helaunce smiled "I have m\ orders Be as difficult as you like,
the orders must and will be carried out "

"Not by you," said Gersen "You are too thick and too slow "

Helaunce flourished the flail, the cords made a sinister crackling
sound "Quick, or you will make us impatient, and the punishment
will be commensurate."

Helaunce was hard and tough, Gersen noted, obviously a
trained fighter—perhaps as well-trained as himself. Helaunce was
also thirty pounds heavier If he had a weakness, it was not apparent
Gersen suddenly sat down in the hall, put his hands to his face and
began to sob

IIelaunce stared in puzzlement "Off with your clothes' Do not
sit there " He came forward, nudged Gersen with his foot "Up'"

Gersen |umped up with Helaunce's foot clamped to his chest.
Helaunce hopped backward, Gersen gave the foot a cruel twist,
applying torque to )omts where muscles could interpose no protec-
tion Helaunce cried out in agony, then fell flat Gersen wrested
loose the flail, struck him across the shoulder The cords hissed,
crackled, Helaunce muttered

"If you can walk," said Gersen, "be good enough to show me
the way "

There was a step behind him Gersen turned to glimpse a tall
shape m black garments Something splashed purple-white light
into his brain, Gersen toppled, dazed

There was half an hour of nightmare Gersen slowly regained con-
trol of his faculties He lay naked in the garden, beside the white
palace wall His clothes were stacked neatly beside him

So much for that, thought Gersen The project had failed. Not
in disaster, for he still had his life Gersen dressed himself, smiling
grimly There had been an attempt to humiliate him It had not
succeeded He had paid, but pain, like pleasure, has no duration.
Pride was an entity more persistent.

Gersen leaned against the wall until his brain cleared His
nerves still throbbed to the terrible flail There were no bruises, no
lacerations, no more than a few red welts Gersen was hungry And
here was humiliation indeed he must eat Viole Falushe's food, walk
through the pleasant garden that Viole P'alushe's brain had con-

502 THE DEMON PR1NOS

ceived . . . Gersen smiled again, even more wolfishly than before.
He had known that his life might not be altogether graceful and
easy.

The time was about dusk. The garden had never seemed more
beautiful. Fireflies moved in the |asmine bushes, marble urns
glowed against dark foliage as if exuding wan light of their own. A
troupe of girls from one of the villages came capering past. Tonight
they wore loose white pantaloons and carried yellow lanterns. See-
ing Gersen, they circled around him singing a gay song, the words
of which Gersen could not comprehend. One approached, held her
lantern to Gersen's face. "Why so strange, guest-man3 Why so
gray? Come frolic, come ]oin us!"

"Thank you," said Gersen. "I fear tonight I would frolic very
poorly indeed."

"Kiss me," coaxed the girl. "Am I not beautiful3 WTiy are you
so sad? Because you must leave forever and ever the Palace of Love?
And we will remain, and always be young and carry our lanterns
through the night. Is this why you grieve3"

Gersen smiled. "Yes, I must return to a far world. And I am
forlorn at the thought. But do not let me interfere with your |oy."

The girl kissed his cheek. "Tonight is your last night, your last
night at the Palace of Love. Tonight you must do all you have
neglected so far, never will there be another time!" The girls con-
tinued on their way, with Gersen looking after them. "Do all I have
neglected3 I wish I could . . ." He went to a sunken terrace where
guests sat dining. Navarth crouched over a bowl of goulash; Gersen
joined him. An attendant wheeled forth a cart; Gersen, who had
not eaten since morning, served himself.

Navarth finally spoke: "What's happened? You appear well-
used."

"I spent an afternoon with our host."

"Indeed. You spoke to him face to face3"

"Almost so."

"And you know then his identity? Mano? Ethuen3 Tanzel3"

"I can't be sure."

Navarth grunted, and bent once more to the goulash.

"Tonight is the last night," Gersen said presently.

"So they tell me. I will be glad to go. There is no poetry here.
It is as I have always set forth: |oy comes of its own free will, it
cannot be belabored. Look—a great palace, a magnificent garden

THE PALACE OF LOl-T

with live nymphs and heroes. But where is the dreaming, the myth3
Only simple-minded folk find )oy here."

"Your friend Viole Falushe would be sorry to hear you say
this."

"I cannot say less." Navarth turned Gersen a sudden sharp look.
"Did you ask for the girl?"

"I did. I learned nothing."

Navarth closed his eyes. "I have become an old man, I am
ineffectual. Henry Lucas, whatever your name, cannot you act3"

"Today I tried," said Gersen. "I was not made welcome."

The two sat m silence. Then Gersen asked, "When do we
leave3"

"I know no more than you."

"We will do what we can."

14

From The Avatar's Apprentice in Scroll From The Ninth
Dimension:

Struggling to the hill's crest, Marmaduke searched
for the blasted cypress which marked the hut of the
symbologist. There stood the tree, haggard and deso-
late, and a hut nearby.

The symbologist gave him welcome. "A hundred
leagues I have come," said Marmaduke, "to put a single
question: Do the colors have souls?"

"Did anyone aver otherwise?" asked the perplexed
symbologist. He caused to shine an orange light, then,
lifting the swing of his gown, he cavorted with great
zest. Marmaduke watched with pleasure, amused to see
an old man so spry!

The symbologist brought forth green light.
Crouching under the bench he thrust his head between
his ankles and turned his gown outside to in, while Mar-
maduke clapped his hands for wonder.

The symbologist evoked red light, and leaping upon
Marmaduke, playfully wrestled him to the floor and
threw the gown over his head. "My dear fellow,"
gasped Marmaduke, winning free, "but you are brisk in
your demonstration!"

"What is worth doing is worth doing well," the
symbologist replied. "Now to expatiate. The colors ad-
mit of dual import. The orange is icterine humor as
well as the mirth of a dying heron.

THE PALACE OF LOVE

"Green is the essence of second-thoughts, likewise
the mode of the north wind. Red, as we have seen, ac-
companies rustic exuberance."

"And a second import of the red?" Marmaduke
asked.

The symbologist made a cryptic sign. "That re-
mains to be seen, as the cat said who voided into the
sugar bowl."

Amused and edified, Marmaduke took his leave, and
he was quite halfway down the mountain before he dis-
covered the loss of his wallet.

The last night at the Palace of Love was celebrated by a fete.
There was music, intoxicating fumes, a whirl of dancers from the
villages. Those who had formed attachments made woeful conver-
sation or indulged in a final frenzy of passion. Others sat quietly,
each in his private mood, and so passed the night. One by one the
colored lights blinked and dimmed; the folk in "white slipped away
through the garden gloom; one by one the guests took themselves
to their couches, alone or in the company that pleased them most.

The garden was quiet; dew began to form on the grass. To
each of the guests went a servant: "The time has come to leave."

To grumblings and protests the servants made but one reply:

"These are our orders. The air car waits; those who are not on
hand must walk their way back to Kouhila."

The guests once more were provided new clothing: an austere
costume of blue, black and dark green. They were then guided to
an area somewhat south of the Palace where a large air car waited.
Gersen counted: all here except Pruitt and Drusilla. Ethuen, Mario
and Tanzel stood nearby. If one were Viole Falushe, it seemed that
now he planned to return to the Oikumene with the others.

Gersen went forward, glanced into the pilot's compartment.
Here sat Helaunce. The guests were filing into the air car. Gersen
took Navarth aside. "Wait."

"Why?"

"No matter." Tanzel and Ethuen were aboard; now Mario
climbed the ladder. Gersen spoke hurriedly. "Go aboard. Make a
disturbance. Pound on the bulkhead. Shout. There is an emergency
lock between the saloon and the pilot's compartment. Pull this

\W DFMON PRINCFS

open. Distract the pilot, try not to incite either Mano, Ethuen or
Tan/el They must not be encouraged to interfere."

Navarth looked at him blankly. "What is the use of this'""

"No matter. Do as I say. Where is Drusilla^ Where is Jheral
Tinzv^ WTrv are they not aboard3"

"Yes .. . Why are they not aboard^ I am truly outraged." Na-
varth jumped up the ladder, thrusting aside the Druidess Laidig.
"W^it'" he called. "We are not all present. WTiere is Zan Zu from
Endu? We cannot leave without her. I refuse to leave; nothing will
remove me "

"Quiet, old fool," growled Torrance da Nossa "You do no
good "

Navarth raged back and forth, lie struck on the forward bulk-
head, pulled on the handle of the communicating door. Finally He-
launce opened the door and went aft to enforce order. "Old man,
sit quietly. It is by order that we now leave. Unless you care to walk
the long road alone, sit quiet."

"Come then, Navarth," said Lerand Wible. "You achieve noth-
ing. Sit quietly."

"Very well," said Navarth. "I have protested; I have done all I
can, I can do no more."

Helaunce returned forward. He backed into the pilot's com-
partment, closed the door. Gersen, waiting to the side, struck him
over the head with a stone. Helaunce staggered, spun around, he
saw Gersen through eyes blinded by blood and gave an inarticulate
cry. Gersen struck again; Helaunce fell aside.

Gersen settled himself at the controls. Up rose the air car, up
into the light of the rising sun. Gersen searched Helaunce and
found two pro)acs, which he tucked into his own pocket. Slackening
speed until the air car only drifted, he slid open the door and rolled
Helaunce out and away.

In the saloon, thought Gersen, Viole Falushe must be wonder-
ing as to the peculiar course Helaunce was steering. Gersen sought
around the ocean and presently spied a small island some twenty
miles from the shore. He circled it, and seeing no sign of habitation
landed the air car.

He jumped to the ground. Going to the saloon port, he pulled
it open and )umped inside. "Everybody out. Quick " And he ges-
tured with the projacs.

Wible stuttered, "WTiat does this mean^"

THL PALALEOFLOVE

"It means everybody out."

Navarth )umped to his teet. "Gome along," he bawled. "F\-
erybody out."

Uncertainly the guests filed outside. Mano came to the door.
Gersen halted him. "You must remain. Be very careful and do not
move, or I will kill you."

Tanzel came by, and Ethuen, both were intercepted, ordered
to sit. Finally the saloon was empty but for Gersen, Mano, Tanzel
and Ethuen. Outside Navarth excitedly harangued the group.
"Make no interference, you will regret it' This is IPCC business. I
know it for a fact'"

"Navarth'" Gersen called from the saloon. "Your assistance,
please."

Navarth climbed back into the saloon. He searched Mano,
Tanzel and Ethuen, while Gersen stood vigilantly by. Neither
weapons nor clues to the identity of Viole Falushe were discovered.
To Gersen's direction, Navarth tied the three men to chairs, using
various oddments of cord, strips of fabric and thongs. Meanwhile
the three excoriated Gersen and demanded the basis for his per-
secution. Tanzel was the most verbose; Ethuen the most acrimo-
nious, and Mano the most enraged. All glared and cursed with
equal vigor. Gersen accepted the remarks with equanimity. "I will
apologize to two of you later. Those two, aware of their innocence,
will cooperate with me. P'rom the third man I expect trouble. I am
prepared for it."

Tanzel asked, "In Jehu's name, then. what do you \vish of us^
Name your third man and have done'"

"Vogel Filschner is his name," said Gersen. "Otherwise known
as Viole Falushe."

"Why pick on us^ Go seek him at the Palace'"

Gersen grinned. "Not a bad idea " He tested the bonds of the
three men, tightened here, reknotted there. "Navarth, you sit here,
to the side. W^atch these three carefully. One of them took Jheral
Tinzy from you."

"Tell me which one."

"Vogel Filschner. You don't recognize him^"

"I wish I could." He pointed to Mano. "This one has his shifty
eye " He indicated TanzePs hands "This one has a mannerism I
remember in Vogel " He turned to inspect Ethuen. "And this one
has a store of spite and clearly is unhappy "

niE l^MON PRINCES

508

"Certainly I'm unhappy'" snapped Ethuen "Why should I re-
pice3"

"Watch them well," said Gersen "We return to the Palace "
Ignoring the outcries of the marooned guests, he took the air
car aloft So far so good—but what next2 Conceivably his reasoning
was awry, conceivably neither Tanzel, nor Mano, nor Fthuen was
Viole Falushe Thinking back over the circumstances of the )ourney
to the Palace, he discarded the notion

The best method of ingress to the apartments of Viole Falushe
was from above, Gersen had no stomach for another climb around
the cliff He landed the air car beside the stone castle, and went
back into the saloon All was as before Navarth sat glaring at the
three captives, who regarded him with loathing.

Gersen gave Navarth one of the projacs "If there is difficulty
kill all three I go to look for Drusilla and Jheral Tinzy You must
guard them with care'"

Navarth laughed wildly "WTio can trick a mad poet3 I know
him this instant I intend to keep the weapon at his throat "

Gersen could not restrain a sense of misgiving Navarth was
not the most stable of guardians "Remember—if he escapes, we
are lost He may want a glass of water, let him thirst His bonds
may be too tight He must suffer' Show no mercy if there is inter-
ference from outside Shoot all three "
"With pleasure "

"Very well Keep your madness in check till I return'"
Gersen went to the door through which three weeks previously
the sodden band of pilgrims had entered The door was locked, he
blasted awav the hardware and entered.

There was no sound The dank rooms were empty Gersen
went down the hall, descended by the way the girl in blue velvet
had taken him, and finally found the banquet room, now dim,
smelling faintly of perfume and wine

Gersen moved more cautiously. From the banquet room a way
led down to the garden Another must lead to Viole Falushe's apart-
ments

Gersen checked the walls, and finally behind a hanging he
found a narrow door of heavy wood barred with metal. Once again
he burnt his way through.

A spiral staircase led down into the chamber to the back of the
circular foyer

THEP4L4(EOI I (WE

509

Gersen searched the room He found a black leather notebook
containing exhaustive notes upon the psychology of Jheral Tinzy,
and the various methods by which Viole Falushe hoped to win her.
It seemed that Viole Falushe wanted more than love he wanted
submission, ab)ect quivering abasement derived from a mingling of
love and fear

So far, reflected Gersen, Viole Falushe had fallen short in his
goal He tossed the portfolio aside On the wall was a telescreen.
Gersen turned a knob Drusilla Wayles wearing a white robe sat
on a bed She was pale, thin, but apparently unharmed

Gersen turned the knob He looked out upon a gloomy area of
sand among tall rock pinnacles To the back were five dark deodors
and a little cabin hardly larger than a doll house Sitting on a bench
was a girl about fourteen years old, a girl almost identical to Dru-
silla She wore a transparent white gown, her face had a peculiarly
sweet, peculiarly pensive expression, as if she had only just awak-
ened from a pleasant dream From the side came a tall non-human
creature, walking on thin black-furred legs It stopped beside the
girl, spoke in a thin high-pitched voice The girl responded without
interest

Gersen turned the knob again, to bring into view a terrace in
front of what appeared to be a temple Inside could be glimpsed
the statue of a divinity. On the steps stood another Drusilla, this
one sixteen years old, wearing only a kirtle, and a copper fillet to
confine her hair Elsewhere were other men and women, similarly
dressed To the side was the suggestion of a shore, with water be-
yond

Gersen turned the knob again and again and again He looked
into various environments, various types of rooms and cages They
contained an assortment of boys, girls, youths, maidens, young men
and women, sometimes separate, sometimes together. Here were
Viole Falushe's experiments, from which he evidently extracted a
voyeur's pleasure   Gersen saw no more versions of Drusilla

Urgency prickled at his nerves, stemming from his lack of faith
in Navarth He set otf along the hall, and crossing the bridge he
entered the laboratory section to the west Here was the locale of
the experiments—in cages and chambers behind one-way mirrors.

Gersen found Retz, the stoop-shouldered technician, sitting in
a small office He looked up, startled at the sight of Gersen. "What
do you do here3 Are you a guest3 The master will be displeased'"

1HF DFMON PRINCES

510

"I am master now " Gersen displayed the projac "Where is the
girl who resembles Jheral Tinzy7"

Retz blinked, half-defiant, hair-doubtful "I can tell you noth-
ing "

Gersen struck him with the gun "Quick The girl who came

here three weeks ago "

Retz began to whine. "What can I tell you7 Viole Falushe will
punish me "

"Viole Falushe is a prisoner " Gersen leveled the gun "Take
me to the girl, or I will kill you "

Retz made a despairing sound "He will do terrible things to

me"

"No longer "

Retz waved his arms, walked down the corridor Suddenly he
stopped, turned around "You say he is your prisoner7"

"He is "

"What do you plan to do with him7"

"Kill him."

"And what of the Palace2"

"We shall see Take me to the girl "

"Will you leave me here, in charge of the Palace3"

"I will kill you unless you make haste."

Disconsolately Retz moved on Gersen spoke to him. "What
has Viole Falushe done to her5"

"Nothing yet "

"What did he plan5"

"An autofertihzation- a virgin birth, so to speak In due course
she would bear a female child precisely like herself"

"Jheral Tmzy gave birth to her in this way3"

"Exactly "

"And how many others7"

"Six others Then she killed herself"

"Where are the Other five7"

"Ah' As to that, I can't say "

Retz was lying, but Gersen allowed the statement to go un-
challenged

Retz paused by a door, looked craftily over his shoulder. "The
girl is within Whatever she reports, you must remember that I am
only an underling here, I only obey orders "

"Then you'll obey mine Open the door " Retz hesitated a final

THE PALACE OF LOVE

51

instant, with a glance over Gersen's shoulder down the hall, as if
hoping against hope for succor He sighed, slid back the door

Drusilla, sitting on the bed, looked up with alarm She saw
Gersen, her expression changed from astonishment to )oy She
jumped up from the bed, ran to Gersen, sobbed in relief "I hoped
you'd come They've done such dreadful things to me'"

Retz thought to take advantage of Gersen's distraction and
started to slink away Gersen called him back "Not so fast I have
use for you " He spoke to Drusilla "Has Viole Falushe shown him-
self to you7 Will you recognize him7"

"He came to stand in the doorway with the light at his back.
He did not want me to see him He was savage, he hated me He
said I had been faithless 1 asked how this was possible since I had
promised him nothing He became absolutely cold He said that it
had been my duty to wait, to maintain my ideals, until he had come
And even then, he said, I had played him false, at Navarth's party
and also on the journey "

Gersen said, "One thing is certain then he is Tanzel or Ethuen
or Mano Which did you like the least7"

"Tanzel "

"Tanzel, eh7 Well, Retz here will show us certainly which is
Viole Falushe, will you not, Retz?"

"How can I7 He has never shown himself to me, except behind
the glass of his office "

Unlikely, thought Gersen, still, not impossible "Where are the
other daughters of Jheral Tmzy7"

"Six there were," muttered Retz "Viole Falushe killed the two
oldest. There is one on Alphanor, this one"—he indicated Dru-
silla—"was sent to Earth The youngest is to the east of the Palace,
where the mountains meet the sea The next is priestess to the god
Arodm, on the large island directly to the east "

"Retz," said Gersen, "I hold Viole Falushe a captive I am your
new master Do you understand this7"

Retz nodded sulkily "If this is how it must be "

"Can you identify Viole Falushe7"

"He is a tall man, he has dark hair; he can be harsh or soft,
cruel or easy Beyond that I do not know "

"These are my orders to you Liberate these poor captives "

"Impossible'" fluted Retz. "They know no other life than their

THE DEMON PRINCKS

512

peculiar environments. The open air, the sun, the sky—they would
go mad!"

"This is your task then. As gently and easily as possible, bring
them forth. I will return shortly and see how well you have done
your job. Further, make known to the folk in the garden that they
are no longer slaves, that they are free to go or to stay. Mind you,
I will pen you in, closet and punish you for your crimes if you do
not obey me."

"I will obey," muttered Retz. "I am accustomed to obedience;

I know nothing else."

Gersen took Drusilla's arm. "I worry about Navarth. We dare
not be gone too long."

But when they returned up through the castle and out to the
air car, circumstances were as before. The three captives were se-
cure and Navanh held the weapon unblinkingly at their heads. His
eyes glowed at the sight of Drusilla. "What ofJheral Tinzy?"

"She is dead. But she had daughters. There are others. What
has transpired while I was gone?"

"Talk. Blandishments. Persuasion. Threats."

"Of course. Who was most insistent?"

"Tanzel."

Gersen turned Tanzel a cool inspection. Tanzel shrugged. "Do
you think I enjoy sitting here trussed like a chicken?"

"One of you is Viole Falushe," said Gersen. "Which? I won-
der— Well, we must undo more of the dreadful mischief performed
in the name of love."

He took the air car aloft, cruised slowly east over the moun-
tains. At the ocean's edge, where the crags submerged into the
water, a gloomy defile opened upon a narrow gray beach. Behind
was a sandy open area perhaps an acre in extent. Gersen lowered
the air car into the shadows and landed. He jumped out.

Drusilla IV, the youngest of the group, came slowly forward.
From a fissure to the back, two non-human nursemaids made angry
chattering sounds. The girl asked, "Are you The Man? The Man
who is coming to love me?"

Gersen grinned. "I am a man, true enough, but who is The
Man?"

Drusilla IV looked vaguely toward the fissure. "They have told
me of The Man. There is one of me, and one of him, and when I
see him I must love him. This is what I have learned."

THE PALACE OF L(W

513

"But you have never seen this man?"

"No. You are the first man I have ever seen. The first person
like myself. You are wonderful!"

"There are many men in the world," said Gersen. "They told
you a falsehood. Come aboard, I will show you other men, and a
girl like yourself."

Drusilla IV looked around the dreary defile in alarm and be-
wilderment. "Will you take me from here? I am frightened."

"You need not be," said Gersen. "Come aboard now."

"Of course." She took his hand trustingly and entered the sa-
loon. At the sight of the passengers she halted in astonishment. "I
never knew so many people existed!" She examined Mano, Ethuen
and Tanzel critically. "I don't like them. They have foolish wicked
faces." She turned to Gersen. "I like you. You are the first man I
have ever seen. You must be The Man, and I will stay with you
forever."

Gersen watched the faces of Mario, Ethuen and Tanzel. This
must make poor hearing for Viole Falushe. All sat stony-faced, glar-
ing at Gersen with equal degrees of detestation—except at the cor-
ner ofTanzel's mouth, a tiny muscle twitched.

Gersen took the air car aloft and flew out toward the largest of
the islands. Almost immediately he spied the temple looming above
a village of cane and frond. Gersen landed the air car in the square,
while villagers watched in amazement and alarm.

From the temple sauntered Drusilla III, a girl confident and
self-possessed, exactly identical to the other Drusillas, vet in some
sense different, as the other two were different.

Once more Gersen alighted from the air car. Drusilla III in-
spected him with candid interest. "WTio are you?"

"I come from the mainland," said Gersen. "I come to speak to
you."

"You want a rite performed? Go elsewhere. Arodin is impotent.
I have beseeched him to send me elsewhere, among other boons.
There is no response."

Gersen looked into the temple. "That is his likeness within?"

"Yes. 1 am priestess to the cult."

"Let us go to look at the image."

"There is nothing to see—a statue sitting on a throne."

Gersen went into the temple. At the far end sat a figure twice
as large as life. The head w^s rudely defaced: nose, ears, chin broken

THF DEMON PRINOS

114

away. Gersen turned to Drusilla III in wonder. "Who damaged the
statue^"

"I did."

"Why"^"

"I did not like his face. According to the Rote, Arodin must
come in the flesh to take me for his bride. I am enjoined to pray
to the statue for the earliest nuptials possible. I broke the face to
delay the process. I do not like being a priestess but I am allowed
to be nothing else. I hoped that after I denied the image another
priestess might be appointed. This has not occurred. Will you take

me away?"

"Yes. Arodin is no god, he is a man." Gersen took Drusilla III
into the saloon, pointed out Mano, Ethuen, Tanzel. "Observe the
three men. Does one of them resemble the statue of Arodin, before
you defaced it?"

One of the men blinked.

"Yes," said Drusilla III. "Yes, indeed. There is the face of Aro-
din." She pointed to Tanzel, the man who had blinked.

Tanzel cried out, "Here, here' What's going on? What are you
trying to do3"

"I want to identify Viole Falushe," said Gersen.

"Why pick on me? I'm not Arodin, nor Viole Falushe, nor yet
Beelzebub, for that matter. I'm good old Harry Tanzel of London,
no more no less, and I'll thank you to take these ropes from my

arms."

"In due course," said Gersen. "In due course." He turned to
Drusilla III. "You're sure that he is Arodin?"

"Of course. Why is he tied?"

"I suspect him of being a criminal."

Drusilla III laughed, a clear merry sound. "WTiat a dreadful
)oke! A man like that putting up a statue to himself and calling
himself a god' What did he hope to gain?"

"You."

"Me^ All this effort for me^"

"He wanted you to love him, to worship him."

Again Drusilla Ill's laughter ran through the ship. "A great deal
of wasted effort."

And Gersen, watching closely, thought he saw a pink flush seep
across Tanzel's face. "You are ready to leave here?"

"Yes . .. Who are these other girls who so resemble me?"

THE PALACE OF LOVE 515

"Your sisters."

"How strange."

"Yes. Viole Falushe—or Arodin, if you prefer—is a strange

man

Gersen took the air car aloft, set it to cruising slowly on the
automatic pilot while he cogitated. Still no absolute proof to the
identity of V^ole Falushe. A twitch of the mouth, a seep of color, a
defaced countenance; interesting but hardly incontrovertible evi-
dence . . . Essentially he was no closer to the identity' of Viole Fa-
lushe than when he set out on the )ourney. He looked back into
the saloon. Navarth had become bored with his duties and was
watching the girls with a half-expectant, half-forlorn expression-
perhaps by some miracle they would merge to become his own
Jheral Tinzy.

Gersen sifted his courses of action. They were few. If he had
access to one or another of the truth drugs, Viole Falushe's identity
would emerge swiftly enough . . . There \vas no one at the Palace
of Love who could recognize Viole Falushe, probably no one at
Atar or Kouhila. On Earth, Navarth knew Viola Falushe's call-code
.. . Gersen rubbed his chin. "Navarth1"

Navarth came into the pilot's compartment Gersen indicated
the communication system and gave instructions. Navarth grinned
from ear to ear.

Gersen went back to the saloon, seated himself near Tanzel.
He looked through into the pilot's compartment, nodded to Na-
varth.

Navarth tapped Viole Falushe's call-code. Gersen bent forward.
At the lobe of TanzeFs ear sounded a faint whir—an almost im-
perceptible vibration. Tanzel )erked, strained at his bonds.

Navarth spoke softly into the forward microphone. "Viole Fa-
lushe. Can you hear me7 Viole Falushe'"

Tanzel jerked around to meet Gersen's appraising stare. There
could be no more dissembling, Viole Falushe was unmasked. A look
of desperation came over his face, he writhed against his bonds.

"Viole Falushe," said Gersen. "The tune has come "

"Who are you^" gasped Viole Falushe. "IPCC^"

Gersen made no answer. Navarth came back.

"So this is he. I knew it all the time. He inflicted me with chill.
Where is Jheral Tinzy, VogeP"

Viole Falushe licked his lips. "You two have plotted to kill me."

S16 THF DEMON PRINCF'S

Gersen and Navarth carried him forward, into the pilot's com-
partment, closed the door communicating with the saloon.

"Why3" cried Viole Falushe. "Why must you do this to me3"

Navarth turned to Gersen. "Do you need me7"

"No."

"Good-bye, Vogel," said Navarth. "You have lived a remark-
able life." He went back into the saloon.

Gersen slowed the air car to a hover. He opened the port. Ten
thousand feet below spread the ocean.

"Why3 Why3 Why3" cried Viole Falushe. "Why do you do
this to me3"

Gersen spoke in a dry voice. "You are a monomaniac. I am the
same. W^en I was a child, the five Demon Princes brought their
ships to Mount Pleasant. Do you recall3"

"Long ago, oh so long ago'"

"They destroyed, they killed, they enslaved. Everything I loved:

family, friends, all destroyed. The Demon Princes are my obsession.
I have killed two of them. You will be the third. I am not Henry
Lucas the journalist. I am Kirth Gersen, and all my life is aimed
toward—this." He stepped toward Viole Ealushe, who made a ter-
rible wrenching exertion. His bonds snapped; he lurched, flung out
his arms and toppled back and out the port. Gersen watched the
long figure drifting down toward the ocean, until it passed from
sight. Then he closed the port and returned to the saloon. Navarth
had already released Mano and Ethuen.

"My apologies to you," said Gersen. "I hope you have not been
seriously m)ured."

Ethuen gave him a look of unspeakable dislike; Mano made a
muttering sound in his throat.

"Well, then," said Navarth cheerfully. "WTiat now3"

"We will pick up our friends," said Gersen. "No doubt they
are wondering what is to become of them."

"Then what3" growled Ethuen. "How are we to find our way
back to Sogdian3 We have no spaceship."

Gersen laughed. "Were you deceived3 This is Sogdian. That is
the sun Miel. How could you not notice?"

"Why should I3 A lunatic pilot careened through the cluster
for hours."

"A subterfuge. Zog was no lunatic. But he was careless, he per-
formed no acclimati7ation routine; when he flung open the port

7 HE PALACE OF L()\-T 517

there was no difference in pressure or composition. The light was
the same intensity; the gravity was the same, the sky was the same
color, the clouds were of the same shape, the flora of the same
type."

"I noticed nothing," said Navarth. "But I am no space traveler.
I i-eel no shame. If I ever return to Farth, I shall never depart
again."

"P'lrst: a stop at the city of Kouhila. The folk wilt be pleased
to learn that they need pay no further taxes."

At Afar, Gersen found the Distis Pharaon as he had left it. Mano,
W^ible and da Nossa had spaceboats of their own; the other guests
were conveyed back to the Oikumene by the ship which Viole Fa-
lushe had ordered for their use. Navarth and the three Drusillas
came aboard the Pharaon. Gersen flew them to New Wexford and
put them aboard the packet for Earth. "I will send you money," he
told Navarth. "It will be for the girls. You must make sure that
they are raised properly."

"I have done my best with Zan Zu," said Navarth gruffly. "She
is raised. WTiat is amiss with her3 The others will need more care."

"Exactly. And when I am next on Earth I will see you."

"Good. We will sit on the deck of my houseboat and drink my
fine wine " Navarth turned away. Gersen took a deep breath, went
to say good-bye to Drusilla Wayles She came close to him, took
his hands. "WTry can't I come with you3 Wherever you go."

"I can't explain to you. But—no. Not now. I tried it once, to
no avail."

"I would be different."

"1 know you are. But there might be worse problems. I might
not be able to part with you."

"Will I ever see you again3"

"I don't think so "

Drusilla turned away "Good-bye," she said listlessly.

Gersen took a step after her, halted, then swung around and
went his way

Gersen chartered a freight earner and took it to the Palace of Love.
The gardens seemed wild and less well tended An indefinable
gloom had come over the airy structures

118 IHF Dt-MON PRINCFS

Retz greeted him with cautious cordiality. "I have been doing
your bidding. Slowly, easily, not to disturb or alarm."

He took Gersen on a tour of the special environments, he de-
scribed the weird and intricate thought-patterns Viole Falushe had
imposed upon his young victims. One by one the victims were
emerging into the upper air; some astonished; some delighted, some
dazzled and frightened, and whimpering to return.

The villages in the garden had changed. Many of the Fortunate
Folk had departed; others had returned from the backlands with
their children. In time the Palace of Love would become a remote
farm community.

Gersen could not leave Viole Falushe's books to moulder. He
loaded them aboard the freighter and consigned them to the care
ofJehan Addels at New Wexford. With a final admonition for Retz,
Gersen himself departed, and flew off through the stars of Sirneste
Cluster, back toward the Oikumene.

Months later, sitting on the Esplanade at Avente, on Alphanor,
Gersen saw a young woman approaching. She wore fashionable gar-
ments in the best of taste, she obviously had been raised in an
atmosphere of gentility and good manners.

On a sudden impulse Gersen stepped forward. "Please excuse
me/' he said, "but you resemble someone I know on Earth. Are
your parents Earth-folk3"

The girl listened without embarrassment. She shook her head.
"This may seem strange, but I do not know my parents. I may be
an orphan, or"—she made a rueful little grimace—"something else.
My guardians receive money to provide a home for me. Do you
know my parents5 Tell me, please!"

Gersen thought, what in the world am I up to5 Why disturb
the girl with the details of her background, or worse, the nightmare
she had so narrowly avoided3 For here, certainly, was Viole Falu-
she's urgent business on Alphanor.

Gersen pretended doubt. "I'm mistaken—I think. The resem-
blance must be a coincidence. You could not possibly be the person
I thought you to be."

"I don't believe you," said Drusilla I. "You know, but you won't
tell. I wonder why not?"

Gersen grinned. The girl was immensely appealing, with a
thousand charms and graces. "Sit here on the bench a moment. I'll

THE PALACE OF LOVE 519

read you a ballad or two from the works of the mad poet Navarth.
When he wrote them he might have been thinking of you."

Drusilla I seated herself. "An unconventional way to start an
acquaintance. But I'm an unconventional person. . . . Well, then,
read the poetry."

The
Face

PART

Aloysius

From Popular Handbook to the Planets, 330th edition,
1525:

Aloysius, Vega VI

Planetary constants:

Diameter         7340 miles
Sidereal day       19.836218 hours
Mass             0,86331 standard
Et cetera

Aloysius, with its sister planets Boniface and Cuthbert,
is accounted among the first worlds to be colonized from
Earth, and the traveler who enjoys the ambience of antiq-
uity will here find much to please him.

Contrary to popular assumption, the first settlers were
not religious zealots but members of the Natural Universe
Society, who dealt gingerly with the new environment, and
built nothing at discord with the landscape.

The NUS is long gone, but its influence still permeates
the system, and almost everywhere will be noted a sedate
reverence for native customs and textures.

The axis of Aloysius inclines to an angle of 31.7 degrees
from its plane of orbit; there are seasonal fluctuations of
notable severity, mollified somewhat by a dense and moist
atmosphere. Of the seven continents Marcy's Land is the
largest, with New Wexford its chief city. The least of the

THF OPTION PRINCES

526

continents is Gavin's Land, on which is situated the city
Pontefract.

It may here be noted that each land, during the Sac-
erdotal Epochs, represented the diocese of a cardinal and
bore his name, thus: Cardinal Marcy's Land, Cardinal Bod-
ant's Land, Cardinal Dimpey's Land, and so forth. The ap-
pellative has fallen into disuse and is rarely heard.

Through a policy of low taxes and favorable regulations,
both Pontefract and New Wexford have long functioned as
important financial centers, with influence reaching every-
where across the Oikumene. Many important publishing
houses also make their headquarters at these places, includ-
ing the prestigious Cosmopolis magazine.

Religions, sects, creeds, movements, countermove-
ments, orthodoxies, heresies, inquisitions: this is the stuff of
early Vegan history; emphatically so on Aloysius, which de-
rives its name from the patron samt of the Aloysian Order.
The Ambrosians, who preceded the Aloysians, founded the
city Rath Eileann beside Lake Feamish, at the center of
Linliffet's Land. The conflicts between these nominally de-
votional brotherhoods make a fascinating chronicle.

Indigenous flora and fauna are not particularly note-
worthy. Through intensive effort by the original settlers,
terrestrial trees and shrubs are widespread, the conifers es-
pecially finding a hospitable environment, and the seas are
stocked with selected terrestrial fish.

Jehan Addels, after his meticulous habit, arrived ten minutes early
to the place of rendezvous. Before alighting from his car he took
pains to scrutinize the surroundings. The scenery was dramatic but
apparently devoid of menace; Addels found nothing to excite his
misgivings. To the right stood Phruster's Inn, with timbers black-
ened by centuries of wind and rain, and the Dunveary Crags be-
yond, rising crag upon buttress, finally to disappear behind high
mist. To the left Phruster's Prospect confronted three-quarters of
a full circle and several thousand square miles of territory, varying
with whims of the weather.

Addels alighted from his car, cast a single skeptical glance up
the awesome Dunveary slopes, and walked out upon the observation
platform. Leaning against the parapet he hunched his shoulders

THE FACE

against the wind and waited: a thin man with parchment-colored
skin and a high balding forehead.

The time was close upon midmorning; halfway up the sky Vega
glowed pale through the mist. A dozen other folk stood along the
parapet. Addels subjected each to a careful inspection. Their
flounced and tasseled garments in muted reds, browns, and dark
green marked them for country folk; residents of the town dressed
only in shades of brown, with an occasional black ornament. This
group seemed innocent. Addels turned his attention to the pano-
rama: Lake Feamish to the left, Rath Eileann below, vaporous Moy
Valley to the right.. . . He frowned down at his watch. The man
whom he awaited had given precise instructions. A lack of punc-
tuality might well indicate crisis. Addels gave a sniff, to express both
envy and disdain for a way of life so much more eventful than his
own.

The time of the appointment was at hand. Addels noticed a
path which, originating at the edge of Rath Eileann far below,
slanted back and forth up the hillside, to terminate at a flight of
steps cut into the rock nearby. Up this path came a man of average
stature, unobtrusively muscular, with rather harsh cheekbones, flat
cheeks, thick dark hair cropped short. This was Kirth Gersen, of
whom Addels knew little except that by some mysterious means, no
doubt illegitimate, Gersen had come into the possession of vast
wealth.* Addels earned a large salary as Gersen's legal adviser, to
date with his scruples, such as they were, intact. Gersen seemed
well acquainted with IPCC** procedures, which in times of stress
afforded Addels a degree of nervous comfort.

Gersen ran up the steps, paused, saw Addels, and crossed the
observation deck. Addels took dispassionate note that after a climb
which would have reduced Addels to a state of gasping exhaustion,
Gersen was not even breathing deeply.

Addels performed a stately gesture of greeting. "I am pleased
to find you in good health."

"Exactly so," said Gersen. "Your journey was pleasant?"

"I was distrait; I hardly noticed," said Addels in a measured and
meaningful voice. "But certainly you are enjoying your stay at the
Domus?"

*Cf The Killing Machme

**Interworld Police Coordinating Company

1H1 DI \U)\ PRIM FS

Gersen assented "I sit in the lobby for hours absorbing the
atmosphere "

Tor this reason you remain here at Rath Eileann^'

"Not altogether This is what 1 want to discuss with you, where
\ve won't be overheard "

Addels looked right and left "You suspect eavesdroppers at the

Domus^"

"Up here the risk is at least minimized I have taken the usual
precautions, no doubt you have done the same "

"[ have taken all the precautions I thought necessary," said Ad-
dels

"In that case, we are almost certainly secure "

Addels' only response was a frosty chuckle For a moment the
two men stood leaning on the parapet, overlooking the gray city,
the lake, and the misty valley beyond

Gersen spoke "The local spaceport is at Slayhack, north of the
lake A week from today the Ettiha Gatgamyi will arrive 1 he reg-
istered owner is the Celerus Transport Company based at Vire on
Sadal Suud Four This ship was at one time the Fanutis* registered
to Service Spaceways, also at Vire The registrations are both nom-
inal The ship then was the property of Lens Larque, and so pre-
sumably is now

Addels pursed his lips in distaste "In our conversation you
mentioned his name Somewhat to my distress, I must admit He
is a notorious criminal "

"Quite so "

"And you intend to conduct business wath \\mV Inadvisable He
is not to be trusted "

"Our business runs along different lines As soon as the Ettilia
Gargantyf arrives, I want a lien, or some other such instrument,
placed against ship and cargo, so that the ship is impounded without
any possibility of departure I want title to the ship attached, so that
the actual owner—not his agent or his legal representative—must
come here to protect his interests "

Addels frowned "You want to bring Lens Larque here to Rath
Eileann^ An extravagant hope "

"It is worth a trial He will naturall) use another identity "

"Lens Larque standing before a court of law2 Absurd "

"At the Mount Pleasint raid v.hcre Gersul lost: home and hmil\ rht- / aiititi\ hid heen
employed as i sl.ne trinsport

THE FACE

529

"Quite so. Lens Larque enjoys absurdities He is also avaricious.
If the action appears legitimate, he won't want to lose his ship by
default."

Addels gave a grunt of grudging acquiescence "I can tell you
this, at least. The most convincing disguise for legitimacy is legit-
imacy itself There should be no trouble discovering a basis for
action Spaceships trail a rash of small complaints in their wake
The difficulty is one of )unsdiction Has this ship touched Rath
Eileann before2"

"Not to my knowledge Ordinarily it works the Argo Fringe."

Addels said in a formal voice, "I will give the matter my best
attention "

"An important point to remember. Lens Larque is not an ami-
able man, for all his tricks and fancies. My name—I hardly need
emphasize this—must not be used. You yourself would be wise to
act discreetly "

Addels ran nervous fingers through his sparse blond hair "I
don't care to confront him at all, discreetly or otherwise "

"Nevertheless," said Gersen, "the ship must be immobilized
here at Rath Eileann Use a writ of attachment, or replevin or some
such document The real owner must definitely appear, or else lose
title by default"

Addels said peevishly, "If the ownership is corporate, or vested
in a limited society, no such result is possible The action is not all
that easy."

Gersen gave a grim laugh "If it were easy, I'd do it myself "

"I quite understand," said Addels in a morose voice "Let me
think the matter over for a day or two."

Three days later, in Gersen's chambers at Domus St Revelras, a
musical tone signaled an incoming call Gersen touched the "Mon-
itor" button; a cascade of exploding asterisks certified that the line
was free of interference A few seconds later Addels' fine-boned face
appeared on the screen

"I have made guarded inquiries," spoke Addels in his most di-
dactic voice. "I have obtained definite judicial opinion to the effect
that an action of the sort you envisage is valid only if a local citizen
has suffered substantial damage, that debt or damage having opti-
mally occurred locally and at a recent time As of now we satisfy
none of the requirements Therefore we could not obtain a valid
writ."

530 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen nodded. "I expected as much." He waited patiently
while Addels pulled at his bony chin and selected words.

"In connection with the Ettilia Gargantyr itself, I have searched
records for liens, debts, and other actions under litigation. As ships
of space pass from port to port, they often incur small debts or
inflict minor damages, which usually no one troubles to pursue. The
EttiUa Gargantyr is no exception. Two years ago an incident oc-
curred at Thrump on David Alexander's Planet. The captain pro-
vided a banquet for a group of local freight agents, employing ship's
stewards and other personnel to prepare and serve the meal. Instead
of the Gargantyr*s mess hall, he chose to use a chamber at the
spaceport. The Thrump Victuallers Guild asserted that such a pro-
cess contravened local ordinance. They registered a claim for lost
wages and punitive damages. The ship departed before a summons
could be served, so the action remains in abeyance, pending the
ship's return, which is unlikely."

Addels paused to reflect. Gersen waited patiently. Addels made
delicate adjustment of his thoughts and spoke on: "The Victualler
Guild meanwhile negotiated a loan with a certain Cooney's Bank,
chartered at Thrump on the same David Alexander's Planet. Along
with other assets they pledged the cause of action against the Ettilia
Gargantyr. A month or so ago the Guild defaulted on the debt, and
the suit has now been transferred to the interest of Cooney's Bank."
Addels' voice took on a speculative tone. "It has often occurred to
me that your affairs might most flexibly be handled through a bank.
Cooney's Bank, while essentially sound, suffers from a tired old
management. The stock sells at a reasonable price and you could
easily buy control. Branches might then be established wherever it
became expedient to do so: for instance at Rath Eileann."

"The lawsuit could then be transferred, so I assume."

"Quite correct."

"And a lien could be laid so as to hold the ship here at Rath
Eileann?"

"I have made inquiries, in terms of hypothetical cases. I find
that the suit may not be filed either at the City Podium nor the
Land Court, but only at the Court of Interworld Equity, which sits
three times a year at the Estremont under a Circuit Propounder. I
have taken counsel with a specialist in interworld equity. He feels
that Cooney's Bank's case might well be prosecuted if the Ettilia
Gargantyr arrives at Rath Eileann; its physical presence would pro-

THE FACE

531

vide in rem jurisdiction. He is certain, however, that no magistrate

would issue a mandamus requiring the presence of the ship's owner

on grounds so trivial."

"That, however, is the essence of the matter! Lens Larque must

come to Aloysius."

"I am advised that this cannot be enforced upon him," said

Addels complacently. "I suggest that we now turn our attention to

other matters."

"Who is the Propounder sitting at the court?"
"We can't be sure. There are five such magistrates, and they

travel a circuit around the Vegan system."
"The court is not now in session?"
"It has just completed its calendar."
"And presumably won't sit again for months."
"Exactly, In any case, the Propounder would almost certainly

throw out any motion requiring the presence of the Gargantyr's

owner."

Gersen nodded pensively. "That is inconvenient."
After a moment Addels inquired. "Well then—what of Coo-
ney's Bank? Shall I make acquisition?"

"Let me think things over. I'll call you tonight."
"Very well."

From "City of the Mists," in Cosmopolis, May 1520

On a map Rath Eileann shows like a twisted T. Along
the top horizontal, from right to left, are the Ffolliot Gar-
dens, Bethamy, Old Town, the Orangery with the Domus
behind, then Estremont on a Lake Feamish islet. The T's
vertical straggles to the north for miles, through the
Moynal district, then Drury, Wigaltown, Dundivy, Gara
with its Dulcidrome, and finally Slayhack with the space-
port.

Of all these districts Old Town exerts the most beguil-
ing charm. Despite streaming mists, odd-smelling vapors,
crooked streets, crotchety buildings, this district is far from
dull. The local folk wear garments only in shades of brown
sand and taupe, through the middle tans, through oak and
other wood into the deepest umbers When they go abroad
in the fitful Vega-light, their costumes against the stone,
black iron, and sooty timbers create an effect of peculiar
richness, the more so for an occasional dark red, yellow, or
dark blue turban. At night Old Town flickers to the light
of innumerable lanterns hung by ancient ordinance before
the doorway of every alehouse Since the crabbed streets
and innumerable little alleys have never been named, much
less have known the presence of a name-sign, the stranger
quickly learns to steer a course by means of the alehouses'
lanterns

The Ambrosian monks, first to settle beside Lake
Feamish, built in contemptuous disregard for order, in ac-

THE FACE 533

cordance with the hectic fervor of their creed The Order
of Aloysians who came forty years later (and who gave the
world its name) halfheartedly tried to modify Old Town,
then lost interest and after establishing the new Bethamy
Quarter gave all their energies to the construction of Tem-
ple St. Revelras.

Gersen left the Domus and sauntered north along the central pa-
rade of the Orangery a formal garden of twenty acres, inappropri-
ately named since, among the carefully clipped trees, were to be
found no oranges, but only yews, limes, and the indigenous green-
glass tree.

At the Grand Esplanade Gersen turned east around the bend
of the lake and presently crossed over a causeway to the Estremont,
a massive structure of silver-gray porphyry, built on four staggered
levels, surmounted by four tall towers and a central dome. At the
Justiciary Gersen made a number of inquiries, then, even more
thoughtful than before, returned to the Domus"

In his chamber he took paper and stylus and worked out a care-
ful schedule of times and events, which he pondered with care.
Then, turning to the communicator, he brought the image ofJehan
Addels to the screen. "Today," said Gersen, "you outlined a pro-
cedure in regard to the Ettiha Gargantyr."

"It was no more than a tentative idea," said Addels. "The
scheme breaks down as soon as we reach the Estremont. The Cir-
cuit Propounder would never make us a favorable ruling."

"You are altogether too pessimistic," said Gersen. "Strange
things happen; the courts are unpredictable. Please act along the
lines we discussed. Acquire Cooney's Bank and immediately charter
a local branch. Then, as soon as the Gargantyr opens its hatch, hit
it with every kind of paper you can think of."

"Just as you say "

"Remember, we are dealing with people who are careless of
legal responsibility, to say the least. Make sure that the ship is se-
cure. Serve the papers with at least a platoon of constables, and
immediately put the crew ashore. Pull the power-bar, seal the junc-
tions with a destruction-lock; chain open the cargo hatch. Then
post a strong guard, with at least six armed men on duty at all times.
I want to make sure that the ship stays down m Rath Eileann."

534 I HE DEMON PRINCES

Addels essayed a morose pleasantry "I'll move into the cap-
tain's cabin and guard the ship from within "

"I've got other plans for you," said Gersen "You won't escape
so easily "

"Remember, the court of Intel-world Equity has )unsdiction.
There won't be another session for months, depending on the cal-
endar."

"We want to give the owner time to appear," said Gersen
"Make sure that our action alleges malice, conspiracy, and a delib-
erate policy of interstellar fraud—charges that only the owner can
properly deny "

"He'll go into the dock, deny everything The Benchmaster will
throw out the case, and you'll be left to sweep out the courtroom "

"My dear Addels," said Gersen. "You clearly don't understand
my intentions—which is )ust as well."

"Just so," said Addels bleakly "I don't even care to speculate "

A month later Gersen once more met Addels on Phruster's Pros-
pect,

The time was middle afternoon, mists over the Dunvearys had
dwindled to a few^ wisps, the landscape showed a stark grandeur to
the cold glare of Vega-light

As before Gersen had climbed the trail which led up from the
Ffolliot Gardens at the western edge of Rath Eileann He stood
leaning on the parapet as Addels sedately arrived m his car

Addels crossed the road and joined Gersen at the parapet In a
heavy voice he said "The Garganty-f has landed The documents
have been served The captain made an outcry and attempted to
return into space He was removed from the ship and charged with
attempted flight to evade the court's )unsdiction He is now in cus-
tody. All precautions have been taken The captain has sent off an
information to his home office " By this time Addels had learned
the details of Gersen's program and had not altogether recovered
his composure. "He has also retained an attorney, who presumably
is competent and who well may wreak enormous grief upon us all "

Gersen said "Let us hope that the Lord High Benchmaster
shares our view of the case "

"An amusing concept," growled Addels "Let us hope that we
will find our terms in the Carcery no less amusing "

From Life, Volume I, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey

If religions are diseases of the human psyche, as the
philosopher Grmtholde asserts, then religious wars must be
reckoned the resultant sores and cankers infecting the ag-
gregate corpus of the human race Of all wars, these are the
most detestable, since they are waged for no tangible gain,
but only to impose a set of arbitrary credos upon another's
mind

Few such conflicts can match the First Vegan Wars for
grotesque excess The issue concerns, in its proximate
phase, a block of sacred white alabaster the Aloysians in-
tended for Temple St Revelras, while the Ambrosians
claimed the same block for their Temple St Bellaw The
culminating battle on Rudyer Moor is an episode to tax the
imagination The locale: a misty upland of the Mournan
Mountains, the time late afternoon, with Vega darting
shafts of pallid light here and there, as roiling clouds allow
On the upper slopes stand a band of haggard Ambrosians
in flapping brown robes, carrying crooked staves carved
from Cornb yew Below is gathered a more numerous
group of the Aloysian Brotherhood, small short-legged
men, plump and portly, each with ritual goatee and scalp-
tuft, carrying kitchen cutlery and garden tools

Brother Whimas utters a cry in an unknown language
Down the slope bound the Ambrosians, venting hysterical
screams, to fall upon the Aloysians like wild men The bat-
tle goes indecisively for an hour, neither side gaming ad-

1HF DFMON PRI\C 1 S

vantage. At sundown the Ambrosian Cornuttr, b\ the
creed's rigorous rule, sounds the twelve-tone call to vespers
the Anibrosians, in accordance with their invariable habit,
place themselves in devotional attitudes the \lo\sians
quickly set to work and destroy the entire \mbrosun band
well before the hour of their own devotions, and so ends
the Battle of Rudver Moor

Back into Old Town creep the rew surviving Amhro-
sians, in secular H-arments, where eventually they become a
canny group oi" merchants, brewers, atchouse keepers, an-
tiquarians, moneylenders and perhaps pursuivants of other
more furtive trades As for the Moysians, the order disin-
tegrates within the century,, their fervor becomes no more
than a quaint tradition. Temple St Revelras becomes the
Domus, grandest of all the Vegan hostelnes Temple St
Bellaw is only a sad tumble of mossy stone

Gersen sat in the public lobby of Domus St Revelras, the ancient
nave where cenobites had sweated under the gaze of the Gnostic
Eye Patrons of the contemporary Domus knew little of Gnosis,
even less of the Eye, but few could look about the great chamber
without awe

The wa\enng sound of a thousand-^ ear-old gong marked the
hour of late afternoon Into the chamber stepped a tall thin young
man with a thin keen nose, gray eyes of great clarity, and an air of
launty intelligence This was Maxel Rackrose, local correspondent
to Cosmopoln, now assigned to the assistance of "Henry Eucas"—
the identity Gersen used in his role as special writer for Cosniopohs

Maxel Rackrose dropped into a chair beside Gersen "Your sub-
)ect is both elusive and sinister "

"All ot which makes for interesting copy "

"No doubt " Rackrose brought forth a packet of papers "After
a week of scouring I've turned up little more than common knowl-
edge The fellow has a genius for anonymity "

"For all we know," said Gersen, "he is sitting here in the Do-
mus lobby. That's not as improbable as you might suppose "

Rackrose gave his head a confident shake "I've )ust spent a
week with Lens Larque, I'd smell him out if he were within a mile "

Such convictions were not necessarily to be dismissed out of

THE FACE 537

hand, thought Gersen "That large man yonder, with the nose-
piece, might he be Lens Larque3"

"Definitely not"

"You're sure^"

"Certainly He exudes patchouli and ispanola, but none of the
reek Lens Larque is said to exhale. Secondly, he corresponds to
descriptions of Lens Larque only in that he is big, bald, and dressed
in ugly clothes Thirdly"—Rackrose uttered a careless laugh—"it
so happens that I know the man to be one Dett Mulhan, who man-
ufactures antique tavern lamps for the tourists."

Gersen smiled wryly, ordered tea from a nearby attendant, then
gave his attention to Rackrose's documents

Some of the material he had already seen, such as an excerpt
from The Mount Pleasant Raid, by Dauday Warns, published in Coj-
mopolis

When the Demon Princes met to affirm their compact, the
massive personalities often collided. Howard AlanTreesong
mediated the disputes in a casual manner Attel Malagate
proved as obdurate as stone Viole Falushe took positions
based upon malicious caprice. Kokor Hekkus, while unpre-
dictable and innovative, charmed no one Lens Larque's ar-
rogance aroused much antagonism Only Howard Alan
Treesong maintained equability What a wonder that the
venture succeeded in any degree whatever' It is a tribute to
the professionalism of the group.

The next paper, headed Lens Larque the Flagellator, was the
work of Erasmus Heupter Immediately below title and byline ap-
peared the drawing of a near-naked man of immense size, with a
supple and sleek muscularity. The head was small and shaven, nar-
row at the cranium, wider at the jaws Heavy eyebrows joined over
a long drooping nose, the face looking out of the picture expressed
an inane and lewd euphoria. The man wore only sandals and short
tight trousers over heavy and unpleasantly meaty buttocks, and in
his right hand he flourished a short-handled whip of three long
thongs.

Rackrose chuckled "If that's our man, I think we'd recognize
him, even here at the Domus."

Gersen shrugged and read the text

THE DEMON PRINCES

538

Lens Larque is said to be enamored of the whip; he con-
siders it a trusty friend and a convenient instrument for the
punishment of his enemies. He uses it often to this end,
judging it preferable to other methods. At Sadabra he owns
a great house with a semicircular room where he sits to take
his victual: great heaps of hork and pummigum* consumed
with tankards of must. For savor he keeps by his side a fine
short-handled whip, with a lash twelve and a half feet long.
The pommel is ivory and engraved with the whip's name:

PANAK. The reference has never been elucidated, to this
writer's knowledge. The lash terminates in a bifurcated flap
of leather four inches long: the "scorpion." Around the wall
stand Lens Larque's enemies, manacled to rings and naked
as eggs. To the buttocks of each is pasted a heart-shaped
target three inches in diameter. To enliven his meal Lens
Larque attempts to snap off the targets with the flutter of
his whip, and his skill is said to be fine.

Underneath, in a different typeface, appeared the note:

The piece duplicated above appeared originally in the Ga-
lactic Review, and probably is no more than the exercise of
a perfervid imagination, especially in regard to the illustra-
tion. Report makes Lens Larque out to be a large man, but
the giggling giant depicted above is hardly a credible rep-
resentation.

It is instructive to note that the author, Lrasmus IIeupter,
dropped out of sight soon after publication of the article
and was never seen again. One of his associates received a
short letter:

Dear Cloebe:

I am hard at work elucidating the meaning of the
name PANAK. Already I have discovered several clues,
but the work is not without its little surprises.

*Pummiguin: a pudding uf vellow meal, meal, tamarinds, ogave, -jcivit, and like fruits,
served in a thousand variant's at restaurants catering to spacemen .UTOSS the human uni-
verse.

THE FACE 539

The weather is fine, still I would as lief be home.
In all sincerity, Erasmus.

Gersen gave a soft grunt. Rackrose said: "The skin tingles a
bit, does it not?"

"Yes, quite so. Are you still willing to cooperate in this proj-
ect?"

Rackrose winced. "Please don't use inv name."

"As you like." Gersen examined the next item: a sheet of type-
script, apparently the work of Rackrose himself:

The name Lens Larque is probably a pseudonym. Criminals
tend to use false names and aliases. A true name can be
traced to a home locale where photographs and intimate
connections are discovered; secrecy and security are thereby
fractured. Again, when the criminal succeeds at his illicit
business, he ordinarily feels the impulse to return to his
home community and there play the magnate among those
who despised him in the past. The pretty girl who rejected
him for a conventional husband: he now can patronize her,
especially if she has lost her good looks and lives in hard
circumstances. All this is possible only if he is not identifi-
ably a criminal; hence, he feels compelled to use a name of
operation other than his own.

These concepts, once they are pointed out, seem quite
obvious; still, they take us to the question: what is the der-
ivation of an assumed name? They come in two varieties:

first, those names selected at random and intended to be
nondescript, and second, those with symbolic significance.
The latter predominate among criminals of personal force
and flamboyance, of whom Lens Larque is an excellent ex-
ample. Therefore, T assume the name "Lens Larque" to be
an alias which carries symbolic import.

I visited the local UTCS* and ordered a search of all
the languages and dialects of the Oikumene and Beyond,
past and present, for homonyms to the name "Lens
Larque."

I attach the result.

*L.'niversal Technical Consult.irivc Service

540 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen examined an orange-bordered sheet displaying a UTCS
printout.

LENS L'UtQUE—homonyms, with definitions.

1. Lencilorqua a village of 657 inhabitants on Vasselona
Continent, Reis, sixth planet to Gamma Endam

2. Lanslarke: a predacious winged creature of Dar Sai,
third planet of Cora, Argo Navis 961.

3 Laenzle arc. the locus of a point generated by the sev-
enth theorem of tnskoid dynamics, as denned by
the mathematician Palo Laenzle (907-1070).

4 Linslurk: a mosslike growth native to the swamps of
Sharmant, Hyaspis, fifth planet of Fntz's Star,
Ceti 1620

5. Linsil Orq. a lake of the Blissful Plains, Verlaren, sec-
ond planet to Komred, Epsilon Sagittae.

6. Lensle Erg: a desert ..

The list continued through twenty-two entries, ever more dis-
tant from the standard.

Gersen returned to Rackrose's analysis:

I decided that, granted the hypothesis, the second entry
appeared the most likely possibility.

From UTCS I extracted full particulars regarding the
lanslarke It is a four-winged creature with an arrow-shaped
head and a stinging tail, reaching a length of ten feet ex-
clusive of the tail. It flies over the Darsh deserts at dawn
and twilight, preying upon ruminants and occasionally a
lone man. The creature is cunning, swift, and ferocious, but
is now rarely seen, though as a fetish of the Bugold Clan it
is privileged to fly freely above their domains.

So much for the lanslarke, and on to Item No. 8 of the
attached papers. This is the single and only account on rec-
ord of a meeting with Lens Larque, at a relatively early
stage of his career The narrator never identifies himself
but would seem to be the official of an industrial concern.
The locale of the meeting is also indefinite, discretion held
full sway

THL I 1(J 541

Gersen turned to Item No ^

Excerpt from "Reminiscences ot a Peripatetic Purchase Agent," by
Sudo Nommus, as published in Thm\t, a trade Journal of the met-
allurgical industry (T he author's name, as presented, is quite evi-
dently a pseudonym )

We met (Lens Larque and I) at d public eating house a
hundred yards down the road from the village The struc-
ture was an exercise in massive crudity, as if some mon-
strous entity had carelessly piled great concrete blocks one
on the other, almost haphazard, to create a set of rambling
irregular enclosures These blocks, whitewashed and in the
sun's full glare, fairly dazzled the eyes The spaces within
however were cool and dim and once I had overcome my
fear of blocks toppling about my ears, I judged the effect
quaint and memorable

Making inquiry ot a languid serving-boy, I was directed
to a corner table Here Lens Larque sat to a great platter
of meat and legumes The food gave off a great waft of sour
spice, harsh and offensive to the nostrils, nevertheless, a
purchase agent knows no qualms, so I took a seat opposite
and watched him as he ate

For a period he ignored me as if I were no more than
one of the puff-bugs drifting lazily about the room, I
therefore took occasion to measure him on my own terms
I saw a large man, heavy almost to the point of corpulence,
cloaked in a voluminous white garment, the hood draped
close about his face I could see his complexion, a rich rus-
set-bron?e, like the haunch of a bay horse, I could likewise
discern something of his features, which were large but
oddly pinched together, or even compressed His eyes,
when at last he troubled to glance at me, burnt with a yel-
low intensity which might have daunted me, had I not met
many another such gaze in the course of my ordinary work,
and which most often resulted from avaricious hope No so
m this case'

Finishing his meal, the man began to speak, in phrases
selected as if by random and conveying no plausible import
Was this A novel bargaining trick^ Did he hope to addle

$42 THE DEMON PRINCES

my thinking under a coil of perplexities? He did not know
his man; as ever, I intended neither to be jockeyed nor
hoodwinked, much less swindled. I heeded each word he
spoke, taking care to make no assents nor dissents, lest these
signs should be considered to form the basis of a bargain.
My patience seemed to work an opposite effect upon this
strange man. His voice became strident and harsh, and his
gestures cut the air like flails.

At last I managed to interpose a quiet suggestion into
the harangue. "In connection with our business, may I in-
quire your name?"

The question caught him up short. In a baleful voice
he asked: "Do you question my fidelity?"

"By no means'" I made haste to reply, since the man
was obviously truculent. I have dealt with many such in the
course of my business, but none like this surly fellow. I
continued in an affable tone. "I am a businessman, I merely
wish to verify the identity of the person with whom I am
dealing. It is a matter of ordinary commercial practice."

"Yes, yes," he muttered. "Quite so."

I pressed home my advantage. "Gentlemen settling to
a bargain use conventional manners, and it is only polite
that we address each other by name."

The fellow nodded thoughtfully and produced a most
remarkable belch, redolent of the spice he had consumed.
Since he took no heed of the matter, I gave no sign that I
had noticed.

Again he said, "Yes, yes, quite so." And then: "Well, it
is really no great affair. You may know me as Lens Larque."
Leaning forward, he leered at me through the folds of his
cloak. "This name suits me well, do you not agree?"

"On such short acquaintance I could not pretend to
hold an opinion. Now, our business. What are your offer-


ings:

"Four tons of duodecimate* Black, SG 22, prime qual-


ity.'

*Duodeciinates- those stable transuranic elements of atomic number in the 120's and be-
yond. Duodecimate Black is an unrefined sand consisting of various duodecimate sulndes,
oxides, and similar compounds, with a specific gravity here stipulated as 'sc, 22 '

THE FACE 543

We had no difficulty in arriving at a bargain. He named
a price. I could take it or leave it. I resolved to demonstrate
that others than himself could act with dignity and decision,
without wheedling, haggling, or feigned outrage. I imme-
diately accepted his tender, subject to proving out the qual-
ity. My stipulation stung his vanity, but I managed to allay
his annoyance. In the end he saw reason, and became alarm-
ingly jovial. The serving boy brought two great tankards of
a vile mouse-flavored beer. Lens Larque quaffed his portion
in three gulps and by the exigencies of the situation I was
forced to do likewise, all the while giving fervent if silent
thanks to the iron belly and matchless capacity developed
by my many long years as a purchasing agent.

Gersen replaced the papers in their folio. "Very good work.
Lens Larque takes on substance. He is a large fleshy man with a
large nose and chin, which might now be surgically altered. His
skin on at least one occasion was reddish bronze. Naturally he can
use skin-toner as easily as anyone else. Lastly, his place of origin
might well be the world Dar Sai, from the evidence of his name
and also the mention of duodecimates, which are mined on Dar
Sai."

Rackrose sat up in his chair. "Are you acquainted with Wigal"
town?"

"Not at all."

"It's a coarse and dismal neighborhood with a dozen or more
off-world enclaves. Altogether unfashionable, of course; still, if you
like odd smells and peculiar music Wigaltown is the place to wan-
der. There's a small Darsh colony and they patronize a public house
on Pilkamp Road. Tintle's Shade, the place is called. I've often
noticed the sign which reads 'Fine Darsh provender.' "

"That is interesting news," said Gersen. "If Lens Larque is
Darsh, and if he happened to pass through the neighborhood, we
might expect him to visit Tintle's Shade."

Maxel Rackrose glanced over his shoulder. "Even DettMullian
begins to look sinister. Why do you suppose that Lens Larque is
nearby?"

"I don't hold any firm opinion. Still, he might arrive at any
time."

"Mathematical probabilities guarantee at least this much."

544 THE DPMON PRINCES

"Exactly We should acquaint ourselves with Tmtle's Shade for
just this contingency "

Rackrose winced "The place reeks with strange odors, I won-
der if I'm up to it."

Gersen rose to his feet "We'll try 'fine Darsh provender' for
our supper Perhaps we'll become devotees "

Rackrose reluctantly hoisted himself erect "We had best alter
our gear," he grumbled "Dressed for the Domus, we'd be remark-
able at Tmtle's Shade I'll disguise myself as a roof mender and
meet you there m an hour."

Gersen glanced down at his own garments an elegant loose
blue suit, a loose-collared white shirt, a crimson sash "I feel as if
I'm already in disguise, I'll change clothes and go as myself."

"In one hour Pilkamp Road, in the dead middle ofWigaltown
We'll meet in the street If you go by omnibus, get off at Noonan's
Alley "

Gersen left the Domus and walked north through the dusk along
the Orangery Parade. He wore a dark blouse, gray trousers caught
in at the ankles, and soft low boots typical garments of the working
spaceman

At the Esplanade he mounted a transport platform and waited
The lake reflected the final glimmers of sunset color rust-red, ap-
ple-green, somber orange. As Gersen watched they disappeared and
the lake became a gunmetal shimmer, illuminated by a few faint
lights along the far shore    An open-sided omnibus approached
Gersen stepped aboard, seated himself, dropped a coin in the slot,
that he might not be ejected at the next halt

At the bend of the lake the Esplanade became Pilkamp Road-
The omnibus slid north through Moynal and Drury under an end-
less chain of blue-white streetlamps

The bus entered Wigaltown, At that ramp nearest Noonan's
Alley Gersen alighted

Dark night had come to Wigaltown At Gersen's back but-
tresses of black rock hunched into the lake Across Pilkamp Road
narrow buildings pushed their roofs high, to put unlikely shapes
and odd angles against the sky Some of the tall narrow windows
showed light, others were dark

Diagonally across the street hung an illuminated sign

THE F4CI

IINTLF'S SHADE

Fine Darsh provender:

Chatowsies
Pourrian
Ahagaree

Gersen crossed the street From the shadows of Noonan's Alle\
came Maxel Rackrose, wearing brown corduroy trousers, a check-
ered brown-and-black shirt, a black vest decorated with tinsel bla-
zons, a loose black cap with a metal bill

Gersen read from the sign " 'Chatowsies Pourrian Ahagaree '
Do you have your appetite with you^"

"Not really. I am a fastidious eater I may taste a bit of this and
that."

Gersen, who often had gulped down food he dared not think
about, only laughed "A keen journalist doesn't know the word 'fas-
tidious ' "

"Somewhere we must draw the line," said Rackrose "It may
be here, at Tmtle's Shade "

They pushed through the door into a hall Ahead stairs led up
to the upper floors, to the side an arch opened upon a white-tiled
chamber heavy with a musty stench A dozen men drank beer at a
counter tended by an old woman in a black gown, with straight
black hair, dark orange skin, and a black mustache Posters an-
nounced exhibitions and novelty dances, at Rath Eileann and else-
where One of these read

The Great Rincus Troupe
Witness a hundred marvelous feats!
See the bungles dance and play while
the thongs whisde and keen!

Swister Day,
at Fuglass Hall.

Another

Whippery Ned Ticket
and

546 THE DEMON PRINCES

his lively bungles!
How they leap! How they caper!

Whippery Ned sings songs of sliding leather
and chides his troupe for errors or
insufficient zeal, perhaps with a
smart tingle of the flick!

The woman behind the bar called out: "Why do you stand like
hypnotized fish? Did you come to drink beer or to eat food?"

"Be patient," said Gersen. "We are making our decision."

The remark annoyed the woman. Her voice took on a coarse
edge. " 'Be patient,' you say? All night I pour beer for crapulous
men; isn't that patience enough? Come over here, backwards; I'll
put this spigot somewhere amazing, at full gush, and then we'll
discover who calls for patience!"

"We have decided to take a meal," said Gersen. "How are the
chatowsies tonight?"

"The same as always, no worse than any other. Be off with you;

don't waste my time unless you're taking beer.. . . What's this?
Smirk at me, will you?" She seized a mug of beer to hurl at Maxel
Rackrose, who alertly jumped back into the anteroom, with Gersen
close behind.

The woman gave her black mane a scornful toss, twisted her
mustache between thumb and forefinger, then turned away.

"She lacks charm," grumbled Rackrose. "She will never know
me as a habitue."

"The dining room may surprise us," said Gersen.

"Pleasantly, so I hope."

They started up the steps, which, like the beer-chamber, ex-
haled an unpleasant vapor: a compound of strange cooking oils, off-
world condiments, and a stale ammoniacal waft.

At the first landing Rackrose halted. "Candidly, I find this all
a bit unsettling. Are you sure that we actually intend to dine here?"

"If you have qualms, go no farther. I myself have known places
both better and worse."

Rackrose muttered under his breath, and trudged on up the
steps.

A pair of heavy wooden doors opened into the restaurant. At
widely separated tables small groups of men huddled like conspir-

THE FACE 547

ators, drinking beer or eating from platters immediately below their
faces.

A massive woman stepped forward. Gersen judged her no less
formidable than the woman who tended the beer spigot, though
perhaps a few years younger. Like the woman below, she wore a
shapeless black gown and her hair hung in a rank tangle; her mus-
tache was not quite so full. With glittering eyes she looked from
one to the other. "Well then, do you wish to eat?"

"Yes; that is why we are here," said Gersen.

"Sit yonder."

The woman followed them across the room. W^hen thev were
seated she leaned forward portentously with hands on the table.
"What is to your taste?"

"We know Darsh food by reputation only," said Gersen.
"WTiat are your special dishes?"

"A ha! Those we reserve for our own eating. Out here we serve
chichala* and you must make the best of it."

"WTiat of the fine Darsh provender you advertise? The chatow-
sies, the pourrian, the ahagaree?"

"Look about you. Men are eating."

"True."

"Then that is what you must eat."

"Bring us portions of all these dishes; we will give them a try."

"As you like." The woman departed.

Rackrose sat in glum silence while Gersen looked around the
room. "Our man is not among those present," said Gersen at last.

Rackrose glanced skeptically from table to table. "Did you se-
riously expect to find him here?"

"Not with any confidence. Still, coincidences occur. If he were
passing through Rath Eileann, this is where we would hope to find
him."

Maxel Rackrose surveyed Gersen dubiously. "You are not tell-
ing me all you know."

"Should that surprise you?"

"Not at all. But I'd like a hint as to what I'm getting into."

"Tonight you need fear only the chatowsies and perhaps the

*Cbtchala: an indelicate term. In the present context the word metaphorically connotes
food prepared tor and served to men.

548 '[•HE DEMON PRINCES

pourrian. If our research continues, it might entail danger. Lens
Larque is a sinister man."

Rackrose glanced nervously around the room. "I would prefer
to give the fellow no offense. He has a rancorous disposition. Re-
member Erasmus Heupter? Whatever the word 'Panak' means, I
don't care to know."

The woman approached with a tray. "Here is the beer which
men customarily take with their food. It is also usual for newcomers
to provide a bit of entertainment. The shadow-box is yonder; a coin
will produce a troupe of amusing figments."

Gersen turned to Rackrose. "You are expert in such affairs; you
shall make the choice."

"With pleasure," said Rackrose rather heavily. He went to the
shadow-box, read the list of offerings, pulled a toggle, and dropped
a coin into the hopper. A shrill voice called out: "It'sJavil Natkin
and the Sly Rogues!" To a clattering music of blocks and chink-
lepins, the entertainers appeared in projected image: a tall thin man
in white and black diaper, carrying a whip, and a band of six small
boys wearing only long red stockings.

Natkin sang a set of doggerel verses lamenting the faults of his
charges, then performed an eccentric prancing jig, snapping his
whip this way and that, while the boys hopped, whirled, and scam-
pered with extraordinary agility. Natkin, expressing dissatisfaction
with their antics, nicked his whip at the plump buttocks. The boys
so stimulated turned frantic somersaults, until Natkin stood sur-
rounded by tumbling boys, whereupon he threw up his arms in
triumph and the images disappeared. Patrons, who had given ear-
nest attention to the display, muttered and grumbled and returned
to their food.

From the kitchen came the black-gowned woman, with bowls
and platters. She thumped them down upon the table- "Here is the
food, Chatowsies. Pourrian. Ahagaree. Eat your fill. What you leave
returns to the pot."

"Thank you," said Gersen. "By the way, who is 'Tintle'?"

The woman gave a derisive snort. "Tintle's name is on the sign.
We do the work; we chink the coin. Tintle keeps his distance."

"If possible, I'd like a few words with Tintle."

The woman gave a derisive snort. "You'd like nothing whatever
from Tintle; he's stupid and dull. Still, for what it's worth, you'll

THE FACE 549

find him in the backyard counting- his fingers or scratching himself
with a stick."

The woman moved away. Gersen and Rackrose gingerly ad-
dressed themselves to the food. After a few moments Rackrose said:

"I can't decide what tastes worst. The chatowsies are fetid, but the
ahagaree is ferocious. The pourrian is merely vile. And the lady
seems to have washed her dog in the beer. . . . What? Are you eat-
ing more?"

"You must do the same. We want to establish a pretext for
returning. Here; try some of these remarkable condiments."

Rackrose held up his hand. "I have taken quite enough, at least
on the basis of my present salary."

"As you wish." Gersen gulped down a few more mouthfuls,
then thoughtfully put down his spoon. "We have seen enough for
this evening." He signaled to the woman. "Madame, our account,
if you please."

The woman looked over the platters. "You have eaten raven-
ously. I will need two or, better, three SVU from each of you."

Rackrose cried out in protest. "Three SVU for a few mouthfuls
of food? That would be exorbitant at the Domus!"

"The Domus serves insipid gutch. Pay your account or I will
sit on your head."

"Come now," said Gersen. "That is no way to attract a steady
clientele. I might add that we are waiting to meet a certain member
of the Bugold Clan."

"Bah!" sneered the woman. "WTiat is that to me? A Bugold
outcast robbed the Kotzash warehouse, and so now I live here in
this place of dank winds and curdled rheum."

"I've heard a somewhat different story," said Gersen with an
air of careless omniscience.

"Then you heard nonsense! The Bugold rachepol and that
scorpion Panshaw connived together. They should have been bro-
ken and not poor Tintle. Now pay me my coin and so your way.
This talk of Kotzash has put me out of sorts."

Gersen resignedly put down six SVU. The woman, with a tri-
umphant leer toward Maxel Rackrose, swept up the coins. "As for
the gratuity, another two SVl' will be considered adequate."

Gersen handed over the coins and Madame Tintle departed.

Rackrose gave a snort of disgust. "You are far too obliging. The
woman's avarice is matched only by the vileness other cuisine."

550 THE DEMON PRINCES

Madame Tintle spoke over his shoulder. "By chance I over-
heard that remark. On your next visit I will boil up my crotch-strap
for your chatowsies." Once again she swept away. Gersen and
Rackrose also took their leave.

Out on the street they stood a moment. Mist hung over the
lake; streetlamps north and south along Pilkamp Road showed as
receding aureoles of pale blue light.

"What now?" asked Rackrose. "Is it to be Tintle?"

"Yes," said Gersen. "He is conveniently close to hand."

"That vulgar female mentioned a backyard," grumbled Rack-
rose. "We will find it around yonder, there, up Noonan's Alley."

The two men walked around the corner of Tintle's Shade, up
the hill beside a wall which presently showed a gate of metal bars,
giving on Tintle's backyard. To the rear stood a line of ramshackle
sheds, one of which showed a light.

At an upper window someone created a clangor by striking a
pan against the wall, then lowered a pot on a length of string.

"It appears," said Gersen, "that Tintle is about to dine."

The door to the shed opened, to reveal the silhouette of a squat
heavy-shouldered man. He ambled across the yard, detached the
pot from the line, and carried it back to the shed.

Rackrose called through the gate: "Tintle! Hoy, Tintle! Over
here by the gate!"

Tintle halted in surprise, then turned and ran spraddle-legged
to his shed. The door closed behind him; the lights were immedi-
ately extinguished.

"That's all from Tintle tonight," said Gersen.

The two returned to Pilkamp Road, boarded the next omnibus,
and rode south to Rath Eileann Old Town.

4

From The Demon Princes, by Carol Carphen:

The author of this monograph, as he ponders the De-
mon Princes and their marvelous deeds, often becomes con-
fused by the multiplicity of events. To cure this condition
he resorts to generalizations, only to see e^ch such edifice
collapse under the weight of qualification.

In basic fact the five individuals have but a single aspect
in common: their total disregard for human pain.

Thus, as we hold Lens Larque up for comparison to his
peers, we find no correspondence save in this single quality.
Even that anonymity and secrecy which one might suppose
to be a basic element of the craft is, in the case of Lens
Larque, distorted into something rude and brash, so that it
seems almost a craving for public attention. Lens Larque at
times appears almost eager to exhibit himself.

Still, when we sum up what we know about Lens
Larque, we discover few definite facts. He has been de-
scribed as a tall man of considerable bulk who, through his
burning gaze and abrupt movements, gives the impression
of a passionate and volatile disposition. No clear descrip-
tions of his face are extant. According to rumor, he is expert
in the use of the whip and takes pleasure in so punishing
his enemies.

The essay concludes with the summation:

552 THE DEMON PRINCE S

Once again, as I succumb to the allure of generality, let
me put forward the following propositions

The evil magnificence of the Demon Princes cannot be
quantitatively compared On a qualitative basis they can be,
perhaps intuitively, characterized

1 Viole Falushe is as malignant as a wasp

2 Malagate the Woe is inhumanly callous

3 Kokor Hekkus en)oys horrifying pranks
4. Howard Alan Treesong is inscrutable, devious, and
very likely insane, if the concept is at all applicable
to such folk as these

5 Lens Larque is brutal, revengeful, and extravagantly
sensitive to slights Like Kokor Hekkus he is not un-
known to sadism, in grotesque variation Occasion-
ally one finds references to a "reek" or "coarse
effluvium" in connection with his person, but
whether this is psychological aura or actual bad odor
is never made clear. Still, Lens Larque would seem
to be the most physically unappealing of all the De-
mon Princes, with the possible exception of Howard
Alan Treesong, whose aspect is unknown

Trails of rain from a predawn storm swept the north end of Lake
Feamish, over Rath Eileann clouds scudded and raced, and let blaz-
ing shafts of Vega-light down upon the gray city. So, in alternate
shine and shadow, Gersen and Jehan Addels walked along the Es-
planade toward the Estremont.

Addels went stiffly and without enthusiasm, his shoulders
hunched, his face dour and bleak As they neared the causeway he
stopped short "Do you know, this is sheer madness "

"But in a good cause," said Gersen. "Someday you'll congrat-
ulate yourself."

Addels grudgingly proceeded. "The day I'm discharged from
Frogtown Pits "

Gersen offered no reply

At the causeway Addels halted once again "You should come
no farther We must not be seen together "

"Quite right I'll wait here "

Addels continued across the causeway The great doors of glass

THE FACL

and iron opened before him, he entered a silent foyer pa\ed in
white marble and stelt *

Addels ascended to the fourth floor and marched despondently
to the offices of the Chief Clerk Outside in the corridor he halted,
drew a deep breath, threw back his shoulders, licked his lips, relaxed
his face into a mask of serenity and confidence, then stepped
through the door

A marble counter crossed the room At the back four under-
clerks in dark red gowns scrutmi/ed documents They looked up
with empty expressions, then returned to their work

Addels gave a peremptory rap on the marble One of the clerks
made a sad face, rose to his feet, and approached the counter.
"What may be your business5"

"I want to consult the Chief Clerk," said Addels

"At what time was your appointment^"

"My appointment is now," snapped Addels "Announce me and
be smart about it'"

The clerk spoke a languid word or two into a mesh, then ush-
ered Addels into a high-ceilinged chamber, illuminated by a cnstal
globe of a hundred facets Rose velvet drapes hung across the high
windows, a semi-circular desk in the Old Empire style, enameled
ivory-white with gilt and vermilion accents, occupied the center of
a pale blue carpet Here, at his ease, sat a balding middle-aged man,
well fleshed and round-faced, with a benign expression Like the
underclerks he wore a dark red gown, as well as a square white cap
displaying the official emblem ot Llinliffet's Land As Addels
stepped forward, he rose courteously to his feet "Counsellor Ad-
dels, it is both my duty and my pleasure to serve you "

"Thank you " Addels seated himself in the chair indicated

File Chief Clerk poured tea into a cup of frail Beleek and
placed it within Addels' reach

"Most gracious of you," said Addels He sipped. "Superb Lutic
Gold, to hazard a guess^ With a bit of something to sharpen the
edge="

"You have a fine discrimination," said the Chief Clerk "Lutic
Gold it is, from the north slope, with an ounce of Black Dassawary
to the pound For brisk mornings such as this I consider it quite
appropriate "

*Stclt J precious sid^ mined from the surraces uf burnt out stars

554 THE DEMON PRINCES

For a few minutes the two discussed tea, then Addels said.
"Now as to my business I represent Cooney's Bank, now chartered
at Rath Eileann As you may know we have instituted action against
Celerus Transport Company, of Vire, Sadal Suud Four, the ship
Emha Gargantyr, and others. I have conferred with the Honorable
Uuay Pmgo, who will stand for the ship He is anxious to expedite
the case and I quite agree In effect I speak for both parties to the
action. We request the earliest possible place on the calendar."

The Chief Clerk, pursing his lips and blowing his cheeks, con-
sulted a document which lay in front of him. "It so happens that
we can schedule a relatively prompt hearing A certain Lord High
Benchmaster Dalt has been assigned to the circuit."

Addels raised his sandy eyebrows "Would that be Benchmaster
Waldemar Dalt who benched Intel-world Court at Myrdal on Bon-
iface?"

"The same. There's quite a piece about him m the Legal Oh-

"The Legal Observer, eh3 I have not seen this |oumal before."

"It's the first issue, published at New Wexford. I received a
complimentary copy, no doubt by virtue of my office."

"I must find an issue," said Addels, "if only to read up on Dalt."

"It makes interesting reading. They compliment Dalt for his
precision, but they describe him as a bit of a martinet."

"That's my recollection." Taking up the magazine Addels stud-
ied the article. A photograph depicted a harsh-featured man wear-
ing black and white judicial costume, the black frontal fringe of the
traditional headdress hanging low across his forehead. Black eye-
brows emphasized his extreme pallor. A clenched mouth and nar-
row glinting eyes suggested inflexibility and perhaps severity,

"Hmmf," said Addels "That's Benchmaster Dalt. I've seen him
in action He's as hard as he looks." He put the magazine down
The Chief Clerk picked it up and read aloud.

"Sometimes regarded as over-abstract and over-rigorous,
Benchmaster Dalt is by no means a dreamy-eyed theorist; to the
contrary, he insists upon full etiquette. Court officials consider him
a stern disciplinarian "

With a faint smile Addels asked: "And what do you think of
that?"

The Chief Clerk shook his head ruefully "He seems a tyran-
nical old griffin, for a fact."

THE FACE

555

"He's not all that old, in fact some say he leans over backward
on that account."

"Yes, yes," muttered the Chief Clerk "I've heard much the
same story, from one source or another."

"Smarten up your bailiffs," said Addels. "Provide your stentor
the best throat lozenges—because Benchmaster Dalt is coming to
enliven your court He watches like an eagle. If someone scamps
his duty, he's flayed to the bone. Personally, I'd prefer a more af-
fable judge. Won't someone else be working the session?"

The Chief Clerk gave his head a troubled shake. "You'll have
to deal with Dalt, and so will I Many thanks for your advice, I'll
warn my bailiffs, and Benchmaster Dalt will have no complaint."

The two men sipped tea in thoughtful silence Then Addels
said "Perhaps I'm lucky to draw Dalt after all. He's draconic
against swindlers and he'll cut through technicalities to deal out

Justice, still, it's a mixed blessing So when will we have our hear-
.__ ^^»i

ing:

"Maasday next, at half morning.'

Maasday morning a storm drove down Lake Feamish, piling up
whitecaps to pound against the Estremont foundations The tall
windows of the courtroom admitted only a wet gray light, and the
three chandeliers, symbolizing the three Vegan planets, glowed at
full power The Chief Clerk sat at his desk wearing immaculate
scarlet and black robes with a black cushion hat. By the door a pair
of bailiffs stood, erect, alert and mindful of Benchmaster Dalt's
reputation for irascibility To the right sat Counsellor Duay Pmgo
with his clients, to the left Counsellor Jehan Addels with officials
of Cooney's Bank. A half dozen casual spectators were on hand for
reasons best known to themselves. Silence held the room Only the
far whisper of waves against stone could be heard.

A chime sounded the hour of half-morning. From the rear
chamber came Lord High Benchmaster Dalt, a personage of middle
size, spare of physique, wearing full High Court regalia. The head-
piece fringed his forehead and hung black swafts over his ears.
Looking neither right nor left he mounted to the bench, then
glanced swiftly around the room, his chalk-white pallor and taut
uncompromising features creating an effect of austere elegance.

Across the centuries the rituals of the Vegan judicial system had
been simplified, but were still notorious for symbolic homologies-

556 THE DEMON PRINCES

The Lord High Benchmaster no longer rode to the bench in a chair
carried by four blind virgins, but the bench itself—the "Balance"—
still rested upon a wedge-shaped fulcrum, even though most pro-
gressive Benchmasters stipulated stabilizing struts to dampen the
quivering Needle of Justice.*

Benchmaster Dalt had ordained rigid stabilizers for the Balance,
to hold the needle fixed at equilibrium.

The stentor appeared on a balcony behind the bench. "Be it
now heard; oyez! This sacred court, ruled by Lord High Bench-
master Waldemar Dalt, is now in session!" He threw three white
feathers into the air to symbolize the liberation of three white
doves. Holding his arms on high, he called: "Let the wings of truth
fare far across this land! The Court oflnterworld Equity now sits
in session."

Lowering his arms, he backed into his alcove and disappeared
from view.

Benchmaster Dalt rapped with his gavel, and glanced at a mem-
orandum. "I will hear preliminary statements in the case of Coo-
ney's Bank versus the Celerus Transport Company, the ship Ettilia
Gargantyr, its officers, and all its lawful owners. Are the parties at
contest present?"

"Ready for the plaintiffs, your Lordship," said Addels.

"Ready for the defendants, your Lordship," said Duay Pingo.

Benchmaster Dalt addressed Addels. "Be so good as to con-
struct your complaint."

"Thank you, your Lordship. Our plea for damages is based
upon the following sequence of events. On a date, which when
translated into Gaean Standard time, becomes Day 212 of the year
1524, at the city Thrump on David Alexander's Planet, the owner
of the ship Ettilia Gargantyr maliciously and spitefully conspired
with the ship's commanding office, a certain Wislea Toom, so to
defraud the local Victuallers Guild of moneys legally and rightfully
due them and thereupon put their nefarious plan into effect, by the
simple and shameless process—"

Benchmaster Dalt rapped with his gavel. "If Counsellor will
control his indignation and favor the court with a simple explana-

*'! he Benchmaster who rode the Balance so ngidiv that the needle showed no motion, in
the sl^ vernacular of the courtroom, was said to he "stiff of arse," while a more restless
offlcul, under whose shifts and shrugs the needle swung hack and forth, might become
known as "old flitter-bntches "

THE FACE

557

tion of the facts, and allow me to decide the applicability of such
terms as 'nefarious' and *shameless,' we shall proceed much more
crisply with this case."

"Thank you, your Lordship. No doubt I anticipate my full pre-
sentation, but we are pleading for punitive as well as actual dam-
ages, on the basis of malice and fraud with premeditated intent."

"Very well, proceed. But remember, I am not partial to subjec-
tive presentations."

"Thank you, your Lordship. The defalcation occurred, as I have
stated. The injured parties filed local action; however, the Ettilia
Gargantyr had vanished, as had the Celerus Transport Company.

"In due course the cause of action was transferred to Cooney's
Bank.

"The arrival of the Ettilia Gargantyr at Rath Eileann laid in
rem jurisdiction in this court and, pursuant to our writ of attach-
ment, we prepared a new action. The Ettilia Gargantyr is now im-
mobilized at Slayhack Spaceport. We pray for actual damages to
the amount of twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty-five SVU.
We declare that the owner of the ship, through the apparently fic-
titious "Celerus Transport Company,' maliciously and in arrogant
contempt of lawful process conspired with Captain Wislea Toom
to the detriment of the plaintiff's assignors. We feel that conduct
of such description is all too common and merits a vigorous rebuke,
and this is the basis of our plea for punitive damages."

"You use the term 'owner' of the Ettilia Gargantyr. I abhor
circumlocution. Please identify this person by name."

"I am sorry, your Lordship! I do not know his name."

"Very well, then." Rap went the gavel. "Counsellor Pingo, do
you have a statement?"

"Simply this, your Lordship. The action is monstrous and ex-
travagant. It is a mischievous exploitation of what at worst was a
rather trivial oversight. We do not challenge that a claim against
the ship at one time existed. We adamantly deny the competence
of Cooney's Bank to act in this regard and we consider the charges
of malice and conspiracy inapplicable."

"You will be given opportunity to demonstrate as much,
through the testimony of your principals." Benchmaster Dalt sur-
veyed Duay Pingo's clients. "The lawful and registered owner of
the ship is now present?"

"No, your Lordship, he is not."

THE. DEMON PRINCES

558

"Then how do you expect to defend against the charges?"

"By demonstrating their total absurdity, your Lordship."

"Aha, Counsellor! There you insult my intelligence. In my ex-
perience dozens of apparent absurdities have turned out to be un-
assailable facts. I will point out that the action is specific. It alleges
malice, fraud, and conspiracy, and these charges may not be coun-
tered by either rhetoric or obfuscation. You are wasting the time
of this court. How long will you need to produce the proper re-
spondents?"

Pingo could only shrug his shoulders. "One moment, your
Lordship, if you please." He went to consult his clients, who mut-
tered uncertainly among themselves. Pingo returned to face Bench-
master Dalt. "Your Lordship, I point out that my clients are
undergoing unnecessary hardship, due to the costs of operating the
ship, including salaries, insurance, berth rental, and the like. May
we post bond as guarantee to the payment of some fair settlement,
should in fact your judgment go against us, and so let the ship be
on its way? This is only simple justice."

Dalt glared at Duay Pingo. "You are appointing yourself, in my
court, as the arbiter and explicator of justice?"

"By no means, your Lordship! It was merely a way of speaking.
An unhappy phrase, for which I apologize!"

Benchmaster Dalt appeared to reflect. Jehan Addels, lifting his
arm as if to scratch his head, muttered into his sleeve: "Specify full
value of ship and cargo. No bondsman in town or anywhere else
will risk so much."

Benchmaster Dalt spoke. "I rule in favor of the defendant's
request, provided that he posts bond to the full value of ship and
cargo, which would represent the maximum indemnity."

Duay Pingo winced. "That may well be impossible, your Lord-
ship."

"Then produce your proper witnesses and let us try the case
properly! You can't have the situation both ways! What good is a
defense action without facts or pertinent testimony from responsive
witnesses? Get your case together or you must lose by default."

"Thank you, your Lordship, I will hold immediate consultation
with my clients. May I request a short postponement?"

"Certainly. For how long?"

"I am not at this point certain. I will presently notify the Court
Clerk, if such suits my esteemed colleague and your Lordship."

THE FACE

559

"I am content," said Jehan Addels, "so long as the continuance
does not exceed a reasonable time."

"Very well, so ruled. Let us be quite definite, Counsellor Pingo.
I require direct testimony from the principal of the case. He will
be the person who owned the ship at the time of the alleged in-
fraction, together with proof as to his ownership. I will not accept
depositions, proxies, or agents. So long as this is understood, I grant
a continuance of two weeks. If you require more time, please apply
to the Court Clerk."

"Thank you, your Lordship."

"Court is adjourned."

The Lord High Benchmaster stalked to his chambers. The
Chief Clerk mopped his face with a blue kerchief and muttered to
a bailiff, "Have you ever seen such a griffin?"

"He's a bad one, for sure, touchy as a blastiffwith boils. Glad
I am that I'll never need to face him in court."

"Bah!" muttered the Chief Clerk. "Belch once in his court and
he'll order your gizzard toasted. I'm all in a sweat from holding my
breath."

During the evening Gersen received a call from Jehan Addels.

"Miraculously," Addels noted, "we are still out of jail."

"It's a pleasant sensation," said Gersen. "Enjoy it while you
can."

"Everything is so fragile! Suppose a diligent journalist looks in
the Legal Record? Suppose the Chief Clerk gossips with someone
from Boniface? Suppose he places other cases into the docket?"

Gersen grinned. "Benchmaster Dalt no doubt will dispense eq-
uity."

"More properly, Benchmaster Dalt should plead indisposition,"
declared Addels. "Remember, not all lawyers are fools!"

"No need to borrow trouble. Pingo is sending messages across
the galaxy. There will be a great disturbance somewhere."

"How true! Well then—what next?"

"We wait to see who appears when the hearings resume."

From Dar Sai and the Darsh, by Jomville Akers

The Darsh whip-dances constitute a highly structured
art form I sav this flatly and without qualification, after
having devoted considerable time to the sub)ect A savage
and repellent art form, granted, an art form grounded in a
whole cluster of sexual aberrations, i.e., pederasty, flagel-
lation, sado-masochism, voyeurism, exhibitionism so much
is conceded. It is an art form to which I personally am not
attracted, though at times it exerts a certain horrid fasci-
nation.

The intricacies of whip-dancing totally elude the un-
initiated During the ordinary routine the whip-wielder,
contrary to appearances, seldom m)ures or even inflicts se-
rious pain upon the dancers Like other apparently horren-
dous exhibitions, a great part is show. The thematic
material to the outsider seems repetitive and limited and
more often than not depends upon a simple tried and true
premise the whipmaster and his troupe of prankish, unruly,
or insubordinate "bungle" boys. The variations upon this
theme, however, are intricate, subtle, often ingenious, often
amusing, and inexhaustibly popular with Darsh males.
Darsh females, on the other hand, observe these spectacles
with contemptuous indifference, and consider them merely
another aspect of masculine fatuity

Gersen and Maxel Rackrose alighted trom the omnibus, then
stood for a moment looking across Pilkamp Road at Tmtle's Shade

THE FACE 561

"It presents no braver face by daylight," said Rackrose. "In fact, I
can now discern peeling paint and windows hung all askew."

"No matter," said Gersen. "The dilapidation is picturesque and
will enhance our lunch."

"Today," said Rackrose, "I lack all appetite. Still, don't let me
deter you from your own meal."

"Perhaps something on the menu will tempt you."

They crossed the street, pushed through the door, passed the
beer counter by, and mounted the dank steps to the restaurant-
Only a few tables were in use. Madame Tmtle stood idly by
the kitchen pass-through, twirling the tip of her mustache. Lan-
guidly she signaled them to a table and ambled over to inquire their
needs. "So the two of you are back. I never thought to see you
again."

Gersen essayed a gallantry. "We were drawn as much by your
colorful personality as by the food."

"What would you mean by that?" demanded the woman. "You
are aspersing either me or the food. Either way you'll get a pot of
slops over your head "

"No offense intended," said Gersen. "In fact I can put you in
the way of some money, if the prospect suits you."

"Of all races Darsh are most avaricious. What is the proposal3"

"A friend of mine will shortly be arriving from Dar Sai, or so
I expect."

"He is Darsh?"

"Yes "

"The situation is hardly possible. Darsh men make no friends,
only enemies."

"This gentleman is, if you prefer, an acquaintance. When he
arrives, he will surely visit Tmtle's Shade, to eat familiar food. I
want you to notify me of his arrival, so that we may renew our
acquaintance."

"Easily done, but how will I recognize him?"

"Just inform me or my friend whenever a new Darsh comes to
Tmtle's Shade,"

"Well—it's not particularly convenient, I can't sort over every
odd goumbah* who creeps in from the street. My curiosity would
arouse frivolous comment "

*A pe|oranve term used by Darsh women in reference to men a person of vulgar futile
stupidity

THR DEMON PRINCES

562

"Perhaps Tintle himself might be pressed into service," sug-
gested Rackrose.

"Tintle?" The woman made a rasping sound in her throat.
"Tintle's been smirched and broken, lie's not allowed up here;

everyone would hold their noses and leave. I can barely tolerate his
presence in the yard."

Gersen asked; "How did this come about?"

Madame Tintle looked around the room, then finding no better
use for her time, condescended to reply. "It was on the whole a sad
misfortune, which Tintle never earned. At the Kotxash warehouse
Tintle was the proud guard. But when they came to loot and steal,
Tintle slept rather than guarded and failed to throw the switch. All
the duodecimates were taken. Then it was learned that Ottile Pan-
shaw the bursar had neglected insurance, so all was lost. Panshaw
could not be found, so the whole countryside came down on Tintle.
He was fixed under the public latrine for three days, and everyone
expressed themselves as the mood took them. Tintle and Dar Sai
no longer could stomach each other, so we came to this dreary bog.
That is the story."

"Hmmf," said Gersen. "If Tintle had been a friend of Lens
Larque, affairs might have gone differently."

The woman eyed him with dour suspicion. "Why do you speak
of Lens Larque?"

"He is a famous man."

"Infamous, rather. It was Lens Larque who robbed the Kotzash
warehouse; why should he be a friend of Tintle? Though that was
the accusation."

"Then you know Lens Larque by sight?"

"He is a Bugold and none of my affair."

"He might be sitting across the room at this moment."

"So long as he finds no fault and pays his account, what do I
care?" She looked contemptuously around the room. "He is not
here today, that is certain."

"Well and good," said Gersen, "but back to our arrangement.
WTien a strange Darsh appears—Lens Larque or any other—notify
me or mv friend Maxel Rackrose, who will take his lunch here every
day. Each time you point out a strange Darsh, you will be paid two
SVU. Point out Lens Larque and earn ten SVU. And should you lead
me to my friend, you shall earn twenty SVU."

Madame Tintle compressed her black brows in perplexity. "A

THE FACE

563

most unusual arrangement. Why do you want Lens Larque? Most
folk would pay ten SVU or more to avoid him."

"We are journalists. I consider him a prime subject for an in-
terview-, should he appear. Certainly we cannot expect such good
luck."

Madam Tintle shrugged. "I have nothing to lose. Now, what
will you eat?"

"I'll take a few bites of ahagaree," said Gersen.

"The same for me," said Rackrose, "but less sulfur and iodine
than usual."

"What about chatowsies?"

"None today."

Leaving the restaurant Gersen and Rackrose walked around to the
back of the building and approached the iron gate. Through the
bars they saw Tintle hunched in the pale sunlight before one of the
sheds. Each of his three-inch earlobes terminated in a dangling
metal ornament; Tintle amused himself by flicking these with his
finger and letting them swing. Gersen called out: "Tintle! Hey,
Tintle!"

Tintle rose slowly to his feet: a squat man with copper-colored
skin and lumpy features. He came a few steps forward, then halted,
to peer in suspicion toward the gate. "What do you want with me?"

"You are that Tintle who guarded the Kotzash warehouse?'

"I know nothing about it!" bawled Tintle. "I was asleep and
innocent in every respect!"

"But you were broken."

"It was a gross error!"

"And you ultimately plan to vindicate yourself?"

Tintle blinked. "I had not thought so far ahead."

"We would definitely like to hear your version of the case."

Tintle came slowly toward the gate. "WTio are you, asking such
questions?"

"Investigators in the cause of justice."

"I have had enough justice. Investigate Ottile Panshaw and
break him; I will lead the line to the latrine." Tintle turned and
started back toward his shed.

"Just a moment!" called Gersen. "We have not discussed ben-
efits."

Tintle came to a tentative halt. "WTiat benefits?"

THE DKMON PRINCES

564

"First a fee in payment for the value of your time. Second,
punishment of the robbers."

Tintle made a sound of incredulous amusement. "Who intends
to punish Lens Larque?"

"Anything might happen. At the moment we only wish to hear
details of the case."

Tintle looked from one to the other. "What is your official

status?"

"Don't inquire too closely. High officials can't offer fees."
Tintle at last showed flexibility. "How much are you offering?"
"That depends upon what you tell us. Five SVU, at the least."
"That is no vast sum," Tintle grumbled. "Still, I suppose that
it will suffice." He looked up toward the windows at the back of
the restaurant. "There she stands, a great rat glaring down from its
hole. Let us transfer our business to Groary's Tavern, across the
way."

"As you wish."

Tintle unharnessed the gate and passed through into the alley.
"She'll be sorely vexed to see us going off to the tavern, and I'll eat
slops for a week. Still, let's be away. A man must never heed the
woman's roar."

Black piles emerging from the waters of Lake Feamish supported
the rear deck of Groary's Tavern. The three men took seats at a
wooden table. Tintle hunched forward, and Gersen thought to per-
ceive the inkling of a sickly stench. Imagination? Tintle? A bubble
up from the lake-bottom slime?

"I believe that five SVU was mentioned," said Tintle.

Gersen put money on the table. "We are interested in the Kot-
zash robbery. Remember, if the loot was recovered, you might well
be vindicated and indemnified."

Tintle gave a harsh laugh. "Do you take me for a fool? In this
life events bend to no such kindly patterns. I'll tell you what I know
and take your money and that will be the end of it."

Gersen shrugged. "You were guard at Kotzash warehouse.
What exactly is 'Kotzash'?"

"Ottile Panshaw formed the corporation. The miners brought
in duodecimates and placed them with Panshaw, who paid off m
shares of Kotzash Mutual. The shares were ostensibly redeemable
in SVU at any time. So it went, and the warehouse at Serjeuz bulged

THE FACE

565

with packets of fine duodecimate. How could Lens Larque not be
tempted? Some say that Ottile Panshaw notified him when the
warehouse could hold no more. So Lens Larque dropped his great
black ship into the compound during the night. His villains came
bounding into the warehouse and I was lucky to make my escape,
for surely they would have killed me. This consideration failed to
quell the general rage. They demanded why I, the designated guard,
had failed to protect the warehouse, and why the great gate had
been left ajar. I blamed Ottile Panshaw, but he was absent.
Therefore I was dragged to the Central Sump and broken."

"A sorry tale," said Gersen. "Still, how do you know that Lens
Larque was responsible?"

Tintle gave a fretful toss of the head which set his pendules to
jerking. "Enough that I tell you as much. It is not a name to be
discussed at length."

"Nevertheless, the guilty man must be brought to justice, and
your contribution may be of assistance."

"And when Lens Larque hears of my verbosity, what then? I
dance ten fandangos to the music ofPanak."

"Your name will not be spoken." Gersen brought forth another
five-SVU certificate. "Tell us what you know."

"It is nothing very much. I am of the Dupp Clan; Lens Larque
is a Bugold. I knew him well in the old days. At Natdnaw Shade
we played hadaul* and everyone joined a cabal against him. But he
had worked a counterstrategy, and it was I whose bones were bro-
ken."

"WTiat sort of man is he?"

Tintle shook his head, at a loss for words. "He is a big man.
He has a long nose and fleering eyes. At the Kotzash warehouse he
wore a thabbat,** but I knew him by his voice and his fust."***

"If he stepped into Tintle's Shade, would you know him?"

Tintle gave a gloomy grunt. "I am not tolerated in the Shade.
He could come and go a dozen times; I'd never be the wiser."

"When you played hadaul, what name did he use?"

"That was long ago. Then he was simple Husse Bugold, though
already he was rachepol."

*Hadau! a Darsh game, combining elements ot conspiracy, double-dealing, cunning, trick-
ery, and a general free-for-all melee

**Thahhat the Darsh hood, usually of white or blue cloth.

***Fust an odor ex-uded by Darsh men.

566 •I HF DEMON PRINCFS

"You have photographs of Lens Larque3"

Tmtle snorted. "Why should I cherish such mementos3 He is
high, I am low. He exudes a fust of menander and fine koruna and
red-oil ahagaree, I reek of the sump."

Gersen pushed the money across the table. "If you should see
Lens Larque, be wary. Claim no acquaintance, don't let him rec-
ognize you. Communicate at once with Maxel Rackrose." He wrote
on a card and pushed it across the table.

Tmtle twitched his mouth in a quick uneasy wince. "It seems
that you expect Lens Larque."

"We can only hope," said Gersen. "He is an elusive man."

Tmtle began to have second thoughts. "I might not know him
now. It is said that he has changed himself. Have you heard how
the Methlen taunted him3 He wanted to live in a fine house, but
the neighbor wouldn't allow it. He said he wanted no ugly Darsh
face hanging over the garden walls. Lens Larque was exasperated
and changed his face at once. Who knows what he looks like now?"

"Use your intuition. What happened to Ottile Panshaw3"

"He crossed to Twanish on Methel. For all I know he's there
yet."

"And what ofKotzash: does the corporation still function3"

Tmtle spat upon the floor "I paid m four hundred ounces of
good black sand—a true fortune—and I received forty shares of
stock. I gambled at hadaul and I now have ninety-two." From a
greasy wallet he extracted a packet of folded papers. "There are the
certificates. Their value: ml."

Gersen examined the papers. "They are bearer certificates. I'll
buy them from you." He placed ten SVU upon the table.

"What?" cried Tmtle. "For almost a hundred shares of prime
Kotzash stock? Do I seem such a dunderhead3 Each share repre-
sents not only ten ounces of sand but other values: rights, options,
leases.. . ." He looked askance as Gersen picked up the ten SVU.
"Not so fast' I accept your offer."

Gersen slid the money across the table. "I suspect that you have
made the better bargain, but no matter. If you chance to notice the
man whom we have discussed, inform us and you will be rewarded
Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"No."

THE FACE

567

"If you supply us more information, we'll pay you well."
Tmtle vouchsafed only a surly grunt. He finished his beer at a
gulp and departed the tavern, with both Gersen and Maxel Rack-
rose leaning back from the waft of his passage.

From Life, Volume I, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

The evil man is a source of fascination; ordinary per-
sons wonder what impels such extremes of conduct. A lust
for wealth? A common motive, undoubtedly. A craving for
power? Revenge against society? Let us grant these as well.
But when wealth has been gained, power achieved and so-
ciety brought down to a state of groveling submission, what
then? Why does he continue?

The response must be: the love of evil for its own sake.
The motivation, while incomprehensible to the ordi-
nary man, is nonetheless urgent and real. The malefactor
becomes the creature of his own deeds. Once the transition
has been overpassed a new set of standards comes into
force. The perceptive malefactor recognizes his evil and
knows full well the meaning of his acts. In order to quiet
his qualms he retreats into a state of solipsism, and commits
flagrant evil from sheer hysteria, and for his victims it ap-
pears as if the world has gone mad.

At noon on St. Dulver's Day, Maxel Rackrose presented himself
at Gersen's chambers in the Domus. His manner was subdued; he
spoke tersely. "During the last two weeks I have monitored trav-
elers incoming at Slayhack, New Wexford, and Pontefract space-
ports. Twenty originated in the Cora system, but only three
described themselves as Darsh. The others are Methlen. None of
the Darsh fit specifications. Three of the Methlen might conceiv-
ably be our man. These are the photographs."

THE FACE

569

Gersen looked over the faces: none held meaning for him.
Rackrose placed down another photograph with the air of a magi-
cian performing a feat. "This man is Ottile Panshaw, who forgot
to pay the Kotzash insurance premiums. He arrived yesterday and
is now here at the Domus."

Gersen studied the spaceport photograph, which depicted a
middle-aged man, thin and frail with a small luxurious paunch, a
large head with alert lucent eyes, a long thin flexible nose, a delicate
mouth drooping at the corners. To either side of a bald forehead
hung sparse russet curls; his skin had been toned a bitter yellow.
Ottile Panshaw wore stylish and ornate garments: a square black
velvet hat piped with scarlet and silver, dove gray trousers, a pale
pink shirt with a rolled black collar, a fawn-colored Jacket.

"Interesting!" said Gersen. "I hope to ask Panshaw a question
or two."

"That should be easy enough; he's not a hundred yards away.
Getting honest answers might be more of a problem, to judge from
his face."

Gersen nodded thoughtfully. "This is not the face of a candid
man. It's also not the face of a man who forgets insurance premi-


ums.

"Yes; that's a puzzling situation. Perhaps the premiums were
exorbitant- That's not unlikely so close to Beyond."

"And so close to Lens Larque. Perhaps the insurance officials
refused coverage on this theory."

"Or—which is even more likely—Panshaw simply pretended
payment and put the money in his own pocket."

Gersen once again examined the clever face of the photograph.
"I certainly wouldn't want Ottile Panshaw in command of my
money. . .. Perhaps he had reason to depreciate Kotzash stock."

Rackrose frowned. "What would induce him in that direction?"

"I can think of several possibilities. One might be voting con-
trol of the company."

"If it were bankrupt?"

"Tintle mentioned other assets: leases, options, and the like."

"I suppose anything is possible."

Gersen reflected a moment, then, turning to the communicator,
brought the pale foxy face ofJehan Addels to the screen. "There
is a new aspect to our business," said Gersen. "The Kotzash Mutual

IHF DLMON PRINCFS

570

Corporation, based at Ser|euz, on Dar Sai in the Cora system.
Might there he information available at New Wexford2"

Addels showed one of his rare grins. "You'd he astonished as
to what information we can command. If this Kotzash has done
business to the value of one SVU with any bank of the Oikumene,
information is on hand."

"I am interested in assets, officers, control procedure, anything
else which might seem interesting "

"I will discover what there is to know."

The screen went dark. Turning, Gersen discovered a thoughtful
expression on Rackrose's face. "For a simple |ournahst, you exert
surprising authority," said Raclcrose.

Gersen had forgotten his role as Henry Lucas, special writer
for Cosmopolh. "No great affair, Addels is an old friend."

"I see. . . . Well, what shall we do about Ottile Panshaw^"

"Watch him closely. Hire professional help, if necessary."*

Rackrose said dubiously. "A man like Panshaw will surely notice
such attention."

"If so, his conduct will be interesting."

"As you like. How will I pay the detectives?"

"Make out vouchers payable by Cosmopohs "

With a sigh of languid despair, Rackrose stood to his feet and
departed

Presently Addels's face returned to the communicator. "Kot-
zash is a queer business. The Ser)euz warehouse was robbed of ore
worth twenty million SVU The comptroller had neglected insur-
ance and the company fell apart. No formal bankruptcy, mind you
the loss was only to the stockholders. The stock, needless to say, is
worthless."

"And who owns the stock^"

"The Kotzash charter was filed at the Chanseth Bank, m Ser-
)euz; copies subsequently reached the association office here at New
Wexford. It specifies that anyone holding twenty-five percent or
more of the shares becomes a director, with a vote in proportion
to his holdings. There are forty-eight hundred and twenty shares
outstanding. Twelve hundred and fifty' shares, something over

*\ egan law prohibited the use of motile spi-cells and like de\iLLs RI^OI-LIUS penalties
attached tu the use ot such equipment, and detectives relied upon traditional methods uf
surveillance

7//F F4CE

twenty-five percent, are registered in the name of Ottile Panshaw.
The rest are distributed in unregistered small holdings."

"Very strange."

"Strange and significant. Panshaw is the only director, he con-
trols Kotzash."

"He must have bought up depreciated stock," said Gersen.
"Certainly he never put up half a ton of duodecimates."

"Not so fast. Panshaw is a man of style. WTiy spend hard-
earned money for worthless stock2"

"Why indeed^ I am burning with curiosity."

"Kotzash evidently maintains an office on Methel; the prospec-
tus lists both Ser)euz and Twamsh addresses. Kotzash is, therefore,
an mterworld corporation and files a yearly report. Last year's re-
port listed as assets mining charters, leases, and exploration rights,
as far afield as the asteroid Granate and the moon Shamtra. Kotzash
also owns fifty-one percent of Hector Transit and Trading Com-
pany, of Twanish. Who owns the remaining forty-nine percent?
Ottile Panshaw. He would seem, as Kot/ash comptroller, to have
issued twelve hundred and fifty shares of Kotzash stock and paid
them over to himself for fifty-one percent of Hector Transit and
Trading."

"And what do the records say of Hector Transit and Trading "

"Nothing. It has never filed a prospectus."

"I find this most confusing," said Gersen.

"It is not confusing," said Addels. "It is merely a case of ]UQ;-
gling and paperwork, to ease unscrupulous persons past their re-
sponsibilities "

"Is Kotzash stock listed on the exchange board7"

"The index indicates a nominal value of one centim per share,
with no tenders either to buy or sell. In essence the stock is dead "

"Put out feelers," said Gersen "If any Kotzash comes on the
market, buy."

Addels gave his head a sad shake. "It is inonev cast into the
sea "

"Ottile Panshaw thinks otherwise. He is staying at the Domus,
evidently."

"What^ Amazing' 'there now is cause for con)ccture'"

"I am no less perplexed than you. But cake comfort; court con-
venes tomorrow. Benchmaster Dalt allows no e\asiveness; he'll set
the matter straight "

THE DEMON PRINCES

572

"If we escape shame and incarceration We walk a tightwire'
Panshaw is highly astute'"

"If all goes well, Panshaw can go his way in peace, so far as I
am concerned "

"When you say 'if all goes well' do you mean the appearance
of Lens Larque at Estremont7"

"Exactly"

Addels gave his head an emphatic shake "I am sorry to say this,
but you are chasing foxfire Maniac, brute, torturer—all these Lens
Larque may be, but he is not a fool "

"Well, we shall see Now you must excuse me, it is time for
Benchmaster Dalt to take his lunch "

Precisely on the hour Benchmaster Dalt made a stately entrance
into the Domus restaurant a rigidly erect man, white of skin, with
black curls massed around his cold and austere face His garments
reflected a formal elegance decades out of date, heads turned to
watch the striking implacable jurist cross the room to his table

He consumed a frugal meal of salad and cold fowl, then sat in
portentous meditation over a cup of tea A thin man of no great
stature who had been sitting across the room approached his table

"Lord High Benchmaster Dalt7 May I join you for a moment5"

Benchmaster Dalt turned a leaden stare upon the petitioner,
then spoke in a dry and measured voice, "If you are a journalist, I
have nothing to say "

The other man laughed politely as if m appreciation of Bench-
master Dalt's little joke "My name is Ottile Panshaw, and I am
definitely no journalist " He eased himself deftly into the chair op-
posite Benchmaster Dalt "Tomorrow you are hearing Cooney's
Bank versus the Ettilia Gargantyr, et al Would you think it an im-
propriety if I were to discuss the case with you7"

Benchmaster Dalt, inspecting Ottile Panshaw, saw a mature
man of slight physique, with a large head, flexible features and a
gracious expression, wearing a dapper suit of plum and umber

Panshaw bore the Benchmaster's stare with polite aplomb
Benchmaster Dalt finally put a curt question "What is your stand-
ing in the case7"

"In an accessory sense, I am associated with the defendant, but
naturally I came to make no importunities The case is extraordi-


THf h HE

nary and certain elements may never be introduced formally, still,
they might well illuminate your overall picture "

Benchmaster Dalt's eyelids took on a languid droop, his ex-
pression became more remote than e\er "I am uninterested in spe-
cial representations "

"This goes without saying Be assured that I wish only to pre-
sent a few items ot background mf-ormacion, they will carry their
own burden of conviction "

"Very well, speak on "

"Thank you, sir lo begin, I represent the ownership of the
Ettilia Gargantyf Hie vessel is under lease to the Hector Transit
Company, a subsidiary of Kotzash Mutual, a company of which I
am the managing director All well and good, but the ultimate
owner of the ship is a certain Lens Larque Is that name familiar
to you7"

"He is a notorious criminal "

"txactly He would be loath to stand before a Vegan court and
identify himself The idea is actually whimsical I therefore suggest
that the testimony of myself, the functioning owner, be accepted in
lieu of that ot Lens Larque "

Benchmaster Dalt's pallid face altered by not so much as a
twitch "At the preliminary hearing I ruled that only the owner in
actuality at the tune of the alleged tort can offer germane testimony
I see no reason to alter this ruling The special quality of this wit-
ness is quite beside the point, and does not affect the ruling "

"Quite so," said Ottile Panshaw, \\ith a rueful gnn "Your point
of view is that if Lens Larque w ished to testify in the Vegan courts,
he should not have become a criminal "

Benchmaster Dalt allowed the merest ghost of a smile to bend
his lips "Exactly Court convenes tomorrow Is this Larque person
at hand to testify7"

Ottile Panshaw lowered his voice "Our conversation is pre-
sumably unofficial and confidential7"

"I can make no such commitment'"

"In that case, I can tell you nothing "

"Your caution implies a great deal I must assume that this
person is at hand "

"Let us pose a hypothesis If Lens Larque were at hand, would
you be willing to take his testimony in camera7"

Benchmasrer Dalt rrowned "I expect that he will testify to ad-

THE DEMON PRINCES

574

vance his own case. Reputedly he has looted, tortured, and mur-
dered, why should he hesitate at perjury? Can he supply
corroboration to his testimony?"

Ottile Panshaw gave a soft gentle laugh. "You and I, sir, for all
our disparities, are ordinary human beings. Lens Larque is some-
thing quite different. I could not venture to predict his testimony.
Corroboration may or may not exist. Indeed in your previous rul-
ing, you indicated that you needed only the owner's testimony."

Benchmaster Dalt considered. "The case ofCooney's Bank ver-
sus the Ettilia Gargantyr is obviously out of the ordinary. I can only
render the most accurate equity possible without reference to the
antecedents of the principals. It is my earnest goal to try each case
on its own terms. Therefore, despite my personal preference for
formal proceedings, I will undertake to hear this man's testimony
in camera. You may bring him to my suite here at the Domus in
two hours time. I feel that I am leaning well over backwards in the
interests of fairness and equity."

Ottile Panshaw smiled diffidently. "Would you come with me
now to a place of my choice?"

"Certainly not."

"You must understand this person's trepidations."

"Had he lived a blameless life he could walk with careless step."

"Oh, his step is careless enough." Ottile Panshaw rose to his
feet and hesitated several seconds. The corners of his mouth jerked
down in a clownish grimace. "I will do what I can."

The Benchmaster's suite, the finest and most exquisitely appointed
at the Domus, included a parlor furnished with antique pieces in
that style known as "Dravan Commandeer." In a massive armchair
sat the Benchmaster. He had elected to wear his robes of office in
order to emphasize the solemnity of the occasion. His face, toned
cadaverous white, with its lean cheeks, hard jaw and short straight
nose, was in stark contrast with the luxuriant black curls of the
ceremonial wig. The Benchmaster's hands, strong and spare, with
straight strong fingers, seemed also a trifle incongruous; they
seemed more the hands of an active man, accustomed to the feel
of tools and weapons.

Jehan Addels sat across the room, in an attitude of anxiety;

clearly he would have preferred to be elsewhere.

A chime sounded; Addels rose to his feet, went out into the

THE FACE

575

foyer, touched a button. The door slid aside, to admit Ottile Pan-
shaw and a tall heavy-fleshed man in a hooded white cloak. Under
the hood showed a face flat and moonish -with ruddy-bronze skin,
a lumpy nose, heavy lips, and round black eyes.

Benchmaster Dalt spoke to Ottile Panshaw. "You are ac-
quainted with counsel for the plaintiff, the Honorable Jehan Addels.
Inasmuch as all issues conceivably may be resolved here and now,
I deemed it proper to notify him of our meeting."

Ottile Panshaw gave his head a quick birdlike nod. "I under-
stand, Lord Benchmaster. Allow me to introduce a principal in the
case. I will not utter his name; there is no need to embarrass any-

one-

"To the contrary," said Benchmaster Dalt. "We are here pre-
cisely so that identities may be authenticated and unequivocal re-
sponses be made to questions of fact. You, sir, what is your name?"

"I have used many names, Benchmaster. Under the name 'Lens
Larque' I assumed ownership of the ship Ettilia Gargantyr. During
my time of ownership, I have performed no acts-under the influence
of malice or vindictiveness. I am innocent of the conspiracy alleged
by Cooney's Bank. Against these statements I lay my great oath."

"We require something more than oaths in cases of this sort,"
said Benchmaster Dalt. "Counsellor, be so good as to summon the
clerk."

Jehan Addels opened a side door, beckoned; into the room came
the Chief Clerk, wheeling an instrument before him.

Benchmaster Dalt said, "Clerk, allow this gentleman to au-
thenticate his statements."

"At once, Holy Law." The clerk slid the machine toward the
man in the white cloak. "Sir, this is a harmless device which reads
emanations from your conceptualizer. Notice this luminous indi-
cant: truth excites a green light; falsity is shown by red. I will place
the register against your temple; allow me to shift the hood."

Drawing back in annoyance, the man muttered to Ottile Pan-
shaw, who returned only a half-smiling, half-crestfallen shrug. The
clerk, gingerly slipping back the hood, placed an adhesive patch
upon the ruddy-bronze temple.

Benchmaster Dalt spoke. "Counsellor Addels, ask your ques-
tions, but only to the effect of establishing identity and ascertaining
motivation at the time of the alleged tort."

Ottile Panshaw said in a silky tone: "May I suggest, Holy Law,

S76 •I HF DEMON PRINCES

that exact dispassion might better be approximated if you yourself
put the questions?"

"I am intent only upon truth. So long as Counsellor Addels
pursues truth, we must all approve. Counsellor, ask your questions."

"Sir, you state your name to be Lens Larque5"

"Yes; this name has been applied to me."

The mdicant glowed green.

"What is your name m actuality?"

"It is Lens Larque-"

"How long have you been known by this name5"

Ottile Panshaw cried out: "Holy Law, the fact has been made
clear and verified by the mdicant! Must we incessantly pursue a
sterile inquisition3"

"Holy Law, I submit that the identification is not yet unequiv-
ocal."

"I agree. Continue."

"Very good. Where were you born?"

"On Dar Sai. I am Darsh." An almost foolish smirk widened
the man's mouth.

"And what was your born, or given, name?"

"That is a matter of no consequence." The red light flickered,
then the green light glowed.

"Odd," mused the Benchmaster. He himself put a question.
"How long then have you been known as Lens Larque?"

"That is not important." The red light glowed bright.

"Has someone recently—within the last week or two—fixed the
name 'Lens Larque' upon you?"

The Darsh's eyes bulged, and he made lurching motions with
his shoulders. "That is an insulting question."

Benchmaster Dalt leaned sharply forward. "That is not the
proper tone to take. Either you are Lens Larque, whereupon we
come to grips with the case, or you are not, whereupon you and
Mr. Panshaw have committed a most serious impropriety."

"The whole matter is a farce," grumbled the Darsh. "Accept
the fact that I am Lens Larque and ask your questions."

Benchmaster Dale's eyes glittered. "If you are Lens Larque,
answer this. Who were your associates at the Mount Pleasant raid7"

"Bah, I forget such details."

"What does the name 'Husse' suggest to you?"

"I have no skill with names."

7H! FACE

"That may well be. You are evidently not the real Lens Larque.
For the last time, state the identity under which you have lived for
the last twenty years."

"I am Lens Larque." The mdicant glowed red.

"And I denounce you and Ottile Panshaw as conspirators, per-
)urers, and frauds. Clerk, place these men under arrest' Take them
into custody and lock them in separate dungeons "

The clerk blew out his cheeks and stepped cautiously forward.
"The pair of you must now consider yourselves m the custody of
the Estremont. Stand quietly; hold now' Not a move' I represent
the full force of Vegan law'"

Ottile Panshaw's eyelids drooped in worry and despondency.
"Lord High Benchmaster, I beg your understanding' Please be
aware of the special circumstances'"

Benchmaster Dalt spoke m cold tones. "You have seriously
pre)udiced your case. I am disposed to find for the plaintiff, unless
Lens Larque presents himself at once. You may use this telephone
to call him. I am bored with tricks."

Ottile Panshaw showed his sad twisted smile. "Lens Larque is
notorious for his tricks." He paused, then continued m an almost
confidential tone- "Cooney's Bank will never en)oy a )udgment
against Lens Larque, I can state this much."

"What is your meaning?"

"Ships disappear. In not one, but by many modes. Remember
the tricks! Now, accept my truly sincere apologies, and allow us to
leave."

"Halt'" cried the clerk. "You are in my custody'"

The Darsh looked toward Ottile Panshaw "All of them2"

Panshaw gave a delicate shrug, from which the Darsh seemed
to derive exact information. He stepped back and produced a pe-
culiar implement: a foot-long handle terminating in a small spiked
knob. The Chief Clerk stood back aghast, then turned and ran for
the door.The Darsh swung his haft; the spiked ball was propelled
into the back of the clerk's head; he threw up his arms and tell
forward In the same rhythmic motion the Darsh turned, swung the
haft, and the ball darted toward Benchmaster Dalt Jehan Addels
uttered a croak of outrage and lurched forward, only to be tripped
by the dapper foot of Ottile Panshaw. The Benchmaster had
dodged low to the side, the pro)ectile struck the wall at his back
He ran crouching forward, black robes fluttering, face white under

57S THF DEMON PRINCFS

the black curls. The Darsh drew back a step and flourished the haft.
Benchmaster Dalt seized the upraised wrist, kicked at the Darsh's
knee, thrust an elbow under the heavy red jaw. The Darsh stumbled
to the floor. The Benchmaster wrenched away the haft; the Darsh
groped and dragged him to the floor. They tumbled about the
room, white robe and black, like monstrous black and white moths.
Ottile Panshaw skipped here and there holding a small hand
weapon. He looked toward Jehan Addels, who instantly threw him-
self flat behind a couch. Panshaw turned away, to stand rapt in
astonishment while the languid and elegant )unst broke first the
Darsh's wrist, then his )aw, then produced a glittering black silver
with which he stabbed the Darsh in the back of the neck.

Ottile Panshaw halfheartedly pointed his weapon. Jehan Addels,
watching from behind the couch, uttered a sharp cry and threw a
bronze vase. Benchmaster Dalt reached for the Darsh's ball-whip;

Ottile Panshaw stepped quietly to the door, bowed, and departed
with the aplomb of a successful con)urer.

The Benchmaster pushed aside the Darsh corpse and jumped
to his feet. Jehan Addels emerged from behind the couch. "What
an appalling situation!" cried Addels. "If we are discovered with
these dead things, we will be immured forever!"

"In that case we will depart. It is the only sensible course."

The Benchmaster removed his wig and doffed the black robes.
He looked down at the corpses in gloomy dissatisfaction. "Failure.
The scheme is bankrupt." He indicated the huddle which once had
been the Chief Clerk. "Provide well for his km; we can at least do
that."

"I fear for myself and my own km," Addels fretted. "Is there
to be no end to this violence? And these corpses: we are vulnerable'
Panshaw from sheer spite may call in the alarm'"

"Quite so. Benchmaster Dalt must now dissolve into nowhere.
A pity: he was truly an admirable fellow, with flair and style. Good-
bye, Benchmaster Dalt'"

"Bah," muttered Addels. "You should have been a theatnst
rather than an assassin, or whatever you consider yourself. Must we
loiter here forever^ The kindest dungeons are at Maudley; far worse
are the Frogtown Holes."

"I hope to visit neither." Gersen flung wig and gown aside.
"Let's be gone from here."

In his own chambers Gersen removed the white skin-tone;

THE FACE

579

then, while Addels watched in lambent disapproval, he dressed in
his ordinary gear. Addels finally could no longer contain his curi-
osity. "Where are you off to now3 The sun is setting, don't you
ever think of rest2"

Gersen, in the act of arming himself, responded half apologet-
ically "Did you hear Panshaw's hints7 How Cooney's Bank should
never consider the Ettiha Gafgantyf a reliable asset? How famous
is Lens Larque for his tricks? Lens Larque is evidently close at
hand. I want to watch his trickery."

"I lack all such curiosity' When I think of what I have under-
gone, I am horrified! I am a legalist and a financial expert, I admit
as much; but my disregard for the law goes no further. I need time
to rest. I must recover my sense of reality. I bid you good evening."
Jehan Addels departed the chamber

Five minutes later Gersen left the suite. The placidity of the
Domus seemed untroubled, Ottile Panshaw evidently had not called
in an alarm.

In front of the Domus Gersen signaled down one of the city's
venerable hacks and climbed into the passenger dome. He called
into the mesh. "To Slayhack Spaceport, as fast as possible."

"Aye, sir'"

The hack trundled along the Esplanade and around the bend
into Pilkamp Road. As they drove, the afterglow faded and dusk
glimmered across Lake P'eamish. Through Moynal and Drury they
went and into Wigaltown, and Gersen saw ahead the yellow sign
advertising Tintle's Shade. The upper windows showed red and
yellow lights and flickered with moving shadows- merriment tonight
at Tintle's Shade! From Wigaltown into Dundivy, then Gar.i and
finally into Slayhack, where the spaceport floodlights lit up the sky.
Gersen leaned forward in his seat, trying to induce speed upon the
lumbering old hack by sheer force of will. ... An explosion of light
across the sky, a shuddering burst of yellow-white glare, and sec-
onds later a great belch of sound. Staring from the cab, Gersen saw
black fragments hurtling across the light, upon which his imagi-
nation put the semblance of human shapes.

The light subsided into a cloud of roiling smoke

The cabdnver cried out in fear- "Sir, what shall I do7"

"Keep going'" called Gersen, then a moment later "Stop
here!"

He alighted from the cab and looked across the field. In the

580 I HI' DFMON PRINCES

place of the Ettilia Gargantyr lay a few smouldering shards Gersen
stood rigid with rage and dismay. Predictable' he told himself be-
tween clenched teeth Lens Larque plays quaint tricks' He destroys
lawsuit and ship together, and collects fall insurance! These pre-
miums Ottile Panshaw will not have neglected'

"I have become complacent," he muttered "I have lost my hard
edge'" He swung around in disgust and returned to the cab. He
asked the driver. "Can you drive out on the field?"

"No, sir, the field is forbidden to us."

"Then continue along the road a bit."

The cab skirted the field. In the illuminated area beside the
repair shops, Gersen noticed a swarming group of men, apparently
in a state of shock, or hysteria. Gersen called to the driver: "Take
that access lane yonder, toward the warehouses."

"I may not leave the public road, sir."

"Very well, wait here." Gersen )umped to the ground.

From behind the shops darted a small warehouse truck, driven
erratically. At full speed it fled across the field, toward the access
lane. The men at the shop reacted instantly. Some pursued on foot;

others leapt aboard vehicles and so gave chase. The truck, gaming
the access lane, bounded at full speed toward the road. As it passed
under a floodlight Gersen saw the driver's face, which was wide,
red-bronze, and heavy, with staring eyes- the face of Tintle. He
lacked skill in guiding the truck and drove off the lane into a rut.
The truck jerked and bumped, and, slewing to the side, overturned,
Tintle was thrown through the air, kicking and sprawling; he fell
half on his back, half on his side, and lay for a moment inert. Then,
laboriously, he lurched to his feet, threw a wild glance over his
shoulder, and started at a hobbling run for the road. His pursuers
caught him under one of the floodlights, and in the circle of blue-
white radiance struck him great blows with fists and metal tools.
Tintle staggered back and forth, and fell to the ground. The men
kicked him and jumped upon his head and body until Tintle was
bloody, ruptured, and dead.

Gersen, arriving at the scene, spoke to a young man wearing
mechanic's overalls. "What goes on here^"

The young mechanic turned him a stare half-apprehensive,
half-defiant. "Don't you see the wreckage3 That hulk yonder5 This
man exploded it, and half a dozen of our fellows as well' Bold as
brass he drove his truck under the cargo hatch and set down a great

THE F-fCE 581

crate It was track, that's what it was' then he drove off and a
minute later the blast all but knocked us down, over by the shops
There were four guards aboard and six day-shift men going off to
their homes. '\11 gone in the blast'" Overcome by indignation and
the importance of the occasion the young mechanic began to blus-
ter "And who are you to come asking why we should capture the
drot'-"

Without troubling to reply, Gersen turned away He marched
back to the hack, where the driver waited nervously in the darkness.
"Sir, where now^"

Gersen turned a last look across the field where, in the glaring
floodlights, the group of workmen, waving, stamping, gesticulating,
still surrounded Tmtle's corpse "Back into town," said Gersen.

Away from Slayhack, south along Pilkamp Road, into Gara and
Dundivy rolled the cab Gersen stared unseeingly ahead along the
line of streetlights which curved in a luminous chain all the way
back to Old Town. Gersen's brooding was interrupted by the sight
of a sign i IN i IF'S SH'\I)F As before, colored lights and moving
shadows played along the upper windows Tonight, while Tintle lay
dead in Slayhack, Tmtle's Shade pulsed with jovial activity.

An eerie emanation tingled the edge of Gersen's mind. For an
instant he sat indecisively, then called the hack to a halt "Wait for
me, I won't be long."

"Aye, sir "

Gersen crossed the street From Tmtle's Shade came muffled
sounds of revelry piping music, occasionally a how! and yelp of
foolish glee. He pushed through the entrance The old woman in
black looked stonily across the beer hall but spoke no word

Gersen mounted the stairs to the upper floor Passing through the
door, he round himself behind a row three deep of ranked bodies,
heads and sloping shoulders silhouetted against the pink illumina-
tion beyond

At the center of the room an entertainment was in progress.
Two musicians on a platform played drums and tweedle-pipes Be-
low and visible only in glimpses past bald heads and dangling ear-
lobes, a wizened youth cavorted with a pneumatic dummy dressed
as an old Darsh woman He sang in a nasal voice, urgent and
breathless, the Darsh jargon* not altogether intelligible to Gersen:

*Dirsh nun ind ^onim use dis[inctl\ difftfLnt idioms, horh rich in epithets The song is
phrased m mile l^on

582 THE DEMON PRINCES

I first saw light at Gaggar's Shade beneath the nephar tree;

They gave me bottom beer to drink, then good ahagaree.
My dangle coiled all curlicue to everyone'1 s despair;

A kitchet -wandered past the door; it straightened then and there.
Tinkle tankle winkle wankle finkle fankle fime
All the aeons gone before are simply wasted time.

I saw a chelt in native pelt and felt a queer condition.
The heartless creature jeered and mocked my meager proposition.
Every day I chased the chelts and prowled the shade by night,
Wondering -where the kitchets went -when Mirassou shone bright.
Tinkle tankle -winkle 'wankle finkle fankle fun
The chelts though brash -wear no mustache, the kitchets only

one.

Oh -where do all the kitchets go on midnight promenade?

Oh what compels the tender things so far from Gaggar's Shade?

They walk to Dobbin's Fountain; they climb Knobkelly Row;

Out upon Bagshilly Sand the tender kitchets go.
Tinkle tankle winkle wankle finkle fankle fex
A fearful thrill to pit your skill against the female sex!

When I became a bungle boy and Mirassou shone fair,

I ran across Bagshilly Plain to catch a kitchet there.

But -who caught me but the vile old khoontz who terrorized the

place,

With her biffle belly, monstrous arse and gibble-gobble face.
Tinke tankle winkle wankle finkle fankle fane
Fear and fright by pale moonlight upon Bagshilly Plain!

She seized my drops and dingles, she toyed with my emotion;

She rubbed my private enterprise with sa'ofulatic lotion.
She put me in a quandary and caused me deep dismay.
She never let me out again until the dawn of day.
Tinkle tankle -winkle wankle finkle fankle fade
Stark and pale I crawled the trail which leads to Gaggar^s
Shade.

A young girl is a "chelt." After adolescence and until she grows her facial mustache,
usually after six to eight years, she is a "kitchet," Thereafter she may incur any number
of epithets, usually derogatory.

The women use an equivalent set of terms in reference to the men.

THE FACE 583

Now that I'm a pooter bold, I wander where I please.

I chase the kitchets hack and forth with condescending ease.

Serene and gay I chanced to stray upon Bagshilly Plain;

Who bounded forth but the same old khoontz and took me once
again!

Tinkle tankle winkle wankle finkle fankle foom
Serene and bland, I walked the sand to meet an awful doom.

Pll dare to slog the oozing bog; Pll risk the frozen pole;

Pll challenge fifteen champions at Dinklestown hadaul,
But I -won Y dare a promenade along Bagshilly Plain,
In craven fear that the vile old khoontz should take me once
again.

Tinkle tankle -winkle wankle finkle fankle fore
Bagshilly Plain has been my bane; Vll go there nevermore.

To the refrains the audience gave enthusiastic support: stamp-
ing, yelping, belching a plangent obbligato.

Gersen sidled behind the spectators toward the kitchen, where
the view was less obstructed. Certain folk present wore ordinary
Vegan garments, others the white Darsh robe and thabbat. Two
men at a table across the room attracted Gersen's attention: the
first, massive and curiously still, with his features obscured under
his thabbat. The other, a smaller man, sat with his back to Gersen
and made small diffident gestures as he spoke.

Someone thrust at Gersen and pushed him about; Gersen
looked into the sardonic face ofMadame Tintle. "So isn't it you,
the ardent journalist? Did you come to meet your friend?"

Gersen asked politely: "Which friend do you mean?"

Madame Tintle showed a sly malicious smile which moved her
mustache more than her mouth. 'T don't know as to this. Iskish*
look all alike to me. But maybe you'll see him by and by. Or perhaps
you came to watch Ned Ticket?"

"Not altogether. I thought perhaps to speak to you, in connec-
tion with our understanding. For instance, are these all regular pa-
trons tonight? Who are those men sitting yonder, across the

roomr

'Iskish: Darsh jargon for anyone other than a Darsh.

584 THE DEMON PRINCKS

"Strangers, fresh in from Dar Sal. Could they be the acquain-
tances you were seeking?"

"In this dim light I can't be sure."

Madame Tintle's smile became an unpleasant grin. "Why not
step across and pay your respects?"

"A good idea. I'll do so after a bit. Have you had news of
Tintle? He was sent out on an errand."

"Is that correct? Tintle is becoming all the rage. He danced
last night and showed nimble heels."

The singer finished his song, to belching stamping approval.
Madame Tintle sniffed in displeasure. "Vile old Khoontz, is it?
Never fear! On the woman's floor we eat fresh ahagaree and cele-
brate Tobo the Tremulous Tyrant. It works no better than a bal-
ance. What have we next? Ticket the snaveler? Watch with
attention; you shall be diverted!" Madame Tintle lurched away,
shouldering spectators aside with neither concern nor apology.
Gersen looked back to the two men across the room. The slight
man almost certainly was Otdle Panshaw. Who might be the other?
... A drum rattled; out on the floor ran a tall thin man on long
thin legs, wearing a right costume of mustard and black. His arms
were lean and corded; his long twitching nose drooped over a long
pointed chin. He flourished a whip; snaps and cracks accented his
recitation. "Hoy ho now, it's time for our fun! I'm Nikity Ticket;

I first tasted water at W^abbers Fountain. I learned leather from
Roly Tatwyn. My whip is Whirr; it's never weary, so who wants to
dance? Who'll skip to leather music? Dainty and delicate! Here
come our dancers!"

In fascination Gersen watched the two men across the room.
One was Ottile Panshaw; the other—he hardly dared allow the
name to enter his mind—might it be Lens Larque?

Madame Tintle emerged from an alcove behind the two men.
Approaching from the side she stood, in a posture at once defer-
ential and contemptuous. She leaned forward, spoke and jerked her
thumb. Both men turned to look toward Gersen, who, taking warn-
ing, had sidled back into the shadows.

"—hoy, hoy, hoy!" cried Ned Ticket to the dancers. He
snapped the long whip close by their feet, creating heavy succulent
sounds. "Smartly now, smartly! Dance to music of leather! With a
kick and a hop; that's the way of it, show us your heels, then flourish
the targets!" The dancers wore right short trousers, with scarlet

THE FACE 5S5

disks sewn upon the seat. Two of the dancers were Darsh boys; the
third was Maxel Rackrose, who danced with agility. "Hoop hap
hup!" called Ned Ticket. "This is how we dance at Doodam's
Shade! A touch of sweetness, the good sweet leather! The glossy
leather, supple and sweet! Hey hurrah! A snap—and a snap—and
a snap snap snap! Skip now, lively there! W^e're off for a merry reel!
Around and step, twist and step, and a taste of the leather! Oh my
soul, a fine smart dance! We are truly gay! Hop and skip and a
snap snap snap! Pshaw, so soon? Why must you spoil the fun? A
snap and a snippet, right on the target; up now, twirl like a graceful
fairy. Exhaustion? A fable! Up, on with the dance; we cannot halt
so soon! Up! Bend and sway; a smile and a tear, tempt with the
target! ... A moment to rest." Ned Ticket swung on his heel,
bowed to the man beside Ottile Panshaw. "Sir, your whip is famous;

will you join the dance?" The massive man made a negative signal.
Ottile Panshaw cried out: "We need fresh dancers, keen and eager!
There's one by the kitchen, the iskish spy! Thrust him out on the
floor."

Gersen called: "Rackrose, this way! Quick now!"
Rackrose, glassy-eyed and panting, turned his head, hobbled
toward Gersen.

"Not yet!" cried Ned Ticket. "Make ready for the dance!"
Gersen sensed a loom behind him; he looked to see Madame
Tintle, arms outstretched to push. Gersen slid aside, pulled and
swung her sprawling out on the floor. Snatching out his gun he
fired toward the massive man's belly. His arm was jostled; the bolt
went astray. A fist knocked the gun from his hand; dark shapes
converged on him.

"Rackrose!" Gersen bellowed. "This way! Quick now!"
A roaring figure pressed upon Gersen; he was dealt a buffet on
the back of the head. He blinked, jerked an elbow into a nearby
paunch. He slipped his left hand into metal fingers, dropped a knife
into his right hand. Someone struck him again; Gersen seized the
arm; his assailant uttered a rattling gasp as energy jarred his body.
Stabbing, slashing, Gersen reached Rackrose, hauled him into the
kitchen, and even at this juncture recoiled at the oily stench. Four
women bawled objurgations. Gersen seized a cauldron of bubbling
sauce and threw it out into the main room, evoking cries ot anguish.
Through a side door which gave on the steps came Madame Tintle,
eyes glaring. She seized Gersen from behind and clasped him to

S86 THP DP V[ON PRINCES

herself. "Women!" she bayed. "Bring the sick oil' Work the grat-
ers' We'll fry this iskish on the stove'"

Gersen touched her with metal fingers, she cried out and stum-
bled backward, to tumble down the stairs. Gersen toppled a rack
of condiments upon the women, signaled to Rackrose. "Quick
now'" They ran down the stairs, hopping over the dazed form of
Madame Tintle at the bottom. The beer woman came to look in
wonder. "WTiat causes so much turmoil?"

"Madame Tintle has taken a tumble," Gersen explained. "You
had best see to her. Come, Rackrose, we must be on our way."

Gersen took a last look up the stairs. At the landing the massive
man stood pointing a gun. Gersen slid to the side; the bolt passed
him by; he threw his knife. The angle was awkward, instead of
piercing the man's neck the blade sheared away his dangling ear-
lobe.

The man called out in rage and fired the gun again, but Gersen
and Rackrose were out the door.

They ran across Pilkamp Road to the cab. Gersen called to the
driver: "Quick now, back into town at top speed! The Darsh have
all gone crazy'"

The cab lurched and rumbled south. There was no pursuit.
Gersen slumped back into the seat. "He was there. .. . Twice I tried
for his life. Twice I failed. The scheme worked well; he took the
bait. Twice I failed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," snarled Rackrose.
"Here and now, be notified. I can serve as your assistant no longer.
The salary"—Rackrose spoke in a voice of sarcastic delicacy—"is
not commensurate with my duties."

Gersen was in no mood to lavish sympathy upon Rackrose.
"You came away with your life, consider yourself lucky."

Rackrose snorted and painfully shifted his position. "Easy for
you to talk. You were not dancing with Ned Ticket' What a re-
pulsive business'"

Gersen sighed. "I'll see that you're compensated. En)oy your
welts; they've earned you money."

Rackrose presently asked: "Who was that large man in the
Darsh robes2"

"Lens Larque."

"You tried to kill him."

"Certainly. Why not? I failed, worse luck."

THL MCI

"You are a most peculiar |ournahst."

"No doubt you are right."

Three days later Jehan Addels made contact with Gersen by com-
municator Taking note ofAddds' carefully composed face, Gersen
knew that significant news was in the offing.

"In regard to the Ettilia Gargantyr^' said Addels in a voice so
dry as almost to crackle, "the vessel was quite destroyed. The case
at law of Cooney's Bank versus Ettiha Gargantyr becomes moot."

"That is my own conclusion," said Gersen.

"One immediately begins to speculate as to insurance," said
Addels. "W^e wonder as to the insuring agency, the coverage and,
of course, the beneficiary Some facts have now emerged, and you
may wish to learn them."

"Definitely so," said Gersen. "What are these facts3"

"I find that the policy was negotiated only three weeks ago, to
a total liability which approximately equals or even exceeds replace-
ment cost of the vessel and its cargo. The insuring entity is Coo-
ney's Fiduciary Assurance, a subsidiary of Cooney's Bank at
Thrump on David Alexander's Planet. The insured party, Kotzash
Mutual Syndicate of Seqeu^, Dar Sai, has presented its claim In
accordance with company policy, compensation has promptly and
faithfully been rendered."

Gersen looked at Addels with a gloomy expression. "I own
Cooney's Bank2"

"You do, and Cooney's Fiduciary Assurance, as well."

"Then, in effect, I have paid Lens Larque a large sum of
money."

"This is the case."

Gersen, not normally given to emotional demonstration, raised
his hands in the air, clenched his fists and brought them down upon
his head "He tricked me "

"He is notorious for his pranks," said Addels primly.

"Y^es, so I understand."

"An ancient proverb stipulates that 'he who sups with the devil
should use a long spoon.' Y^ou would seem to have attempted such
a meal with a small dessert fork."

"We shall see," said Gersen. "Are you ready to leave2"

Addels' face became blank " 'Leave'2 For where?"

"Dar Sai, of course."

^'88                                  I HP DEMON PRINCES

Addels half lowered his eyelids and tilted his head sideways. In
a reedy voice he said, "Important personal affairs prevent me from
)oinmg you on this venture. Also—a side issue of course—Dar Sal
is a wild and savage world, where I would surely be uncomfortable "
"Yes, possibly so."

After a cautious moment Addels asked. "When do you leave2"
"This afternoon. There is nothing to keep me here."
Addels said gruffly, "I'd waste my breath counseling you to
prudence. So I will wish you luck."

"I'm as prudent as necessary'," said Gersen. "I'll be in touch
with you before too long."

PART II

Dar Sai

From Tourists Guide to the Coranne, by Jane Szantho:

Dar Sai, second planet of the Coranne, cannot be con-
sidered a pleasant or propitious world; indeed, the casual
observer will at once discount all possibility of human hab-
itation. Each hemisphere may be divided into zones almost
equally malignant. At the poles the winds howl around the
vortex of a perpetual down-draft cyclone, to deposit inces-
sant rain, slush, and snow. The consequent groundwaters
drain into the Bogs, an environment of ooze, poisonous
slimes, stiletto bugs, uncounted varieties of algae, some of
which achieve the stature of bushes.

From the Bogs water drains south and north respec-
tively into the equatorial Hot Zone: the so-called Wale.
Some of this water evaporates, some sinks out of sight into
the sand.

The Wale is pitilessly exposed to the blazing light of
Cora, and seems as vicious as any other environment of Dar
Sai. Gentle variable winds blow during the day, but at night
all is quiet on the desert, which, at this time, becomes
strangely beautiful.

A small dead star, once Cora's companion, and post-
humously known as Fideske, is responsible for human ha-
bitancy upon Dar Sai. Twenty million years ago Fideske
disintegrated into fragments, the largest of which, Shanitra,
orbits Methel, the third planet, as a moon. Some fragments
form an asteroidal belt, others fell upon Methel and Dar
Sai, bringing rare and precious elements of high atomic

11 IF DPMON PRINCES

number, the duodecimates.* On Methel these elements are
lost on the sea bottoms; on Dar Sai they have become a
component ot the desert sands, which the wind constant!}
sifts and segregates. The first men came to Dar Sai to mine
duodecimate lodes; over centuries they evolved into Darsh,
a folk as fierce and perverse as the world they inhabit

These first settlers, in the main fugitives, desperadoes
and ne'er-do-wells, quickly discovered that they could sur-
vive by day only with the aid of powerful air-coolers, or m
more primitive circumstances, under sheds cooled by trick-
ling water. Using riches gamed from duodecimates, the
Darsh erected their famous "shades" enormous parasols as
much as five hundred feet high and sheltering twenty or
thirty acres Water from the underground aquifers is
pumped to the top surface to flow across to the periphery
and trickle down in sheets, veils and cool mists Under these
shades live the Darsh. They grow quantities of food in their
garden trays; some they synthesize and the rest they import.
The spices which enliven their cuisine derive from partic-
ular types of bog-algae. Some of these spices—the ahaga-
ree, for instance—is as valuable by weight as good black
duodecimate

The Darsh are not physically appealing to outw'orlders,
or iskish, to use Darsh )argon They are large-boned, often
bulky, and in their later years inclined to corpulence. Their
features are heavy7 and their complexions tend to a raw roan
color, occasionally with a chalky undertone At puberty the
men become entirely hairless. The women, to the contrary,
are hirsute, and ten years after puberty w ill often grow mus-
taches. In that brief decade between puberty' and facial mus-
tache, the girls, or kitchets, achieve a certain degree of
physical charm and are held m great esteem by Darsh men
of all ages

The Darsh ear cartilage stretches easily, the lobes hang
loose and long and sometimes support dangling pendants
The men wear white robes and hoods When they go
abroad in the daylight, small air conditioners pump cold air
under these robes. The women, who never leave the shade

'\ misnomer, v^hich ncicrtheless has achie\ed \vicJe popular usage

THE FACE

by day, wear less voluminous kirtles of maroon, orange, or
mustard, which are m particularly disagreeable discord with
their complexion.

Darsh children find themselves in an unsympathetic mi-
lieu. They are exploited in all manner of ways; they gain
neither gratitude nor affection, and so develop a remarkable
egocentncity, which is not dissimilar to pride, as if each had
declaimed to Fate: "You have abused and mishandled me;

you have shown me no favor, but I have survived; I have
grown stubborn and strong despite all!"

This pride, in the Darsh male, expresses itself as "plam-
bosh," a swaggering willful flamboyance, a reckless disre-
gard for consequence, a perversity which automatically
conduces to contempt for authority. If, by one means or
another, such as public humiliation, this pride is fractured
or destroyed, the man is "broken" and thereafter becomes
almost eunuchoid.

In women, the quality is more difficult to define, and
takes the form of studied inscrutability. Whoever wishes to
experience human opacity need only attempt jocular inter-
course with a Darsh woman. Men and women espouse each
other for economic accommodation, nothing else. Procre-
ation is accomplished by a far more adventurous process
during nocturnal promenades across the desert, especially
when Mirassou-shine is in the sky. The system is simple in
outline but complicated in detail. Both men and women
aggressively seek out young sexual partners. The men way-
lay girls barely adolescent; women seize upon boys not
much older. To lure the boys out upon the desert, the
women ruthlessly send out the pubescent girls and so it
goes. The system has permutations unnecessary now to ex-
plore. In this connection, the whipping entertainments may
be mentioned. These reach elaborate forms in the principal
towns, and the off-world visitor who witnesses one of these
strange rites will be amazed, fascinated, and no doubt re-
pelled. The characteristic Darsh game hadaul perhaps also
should be mentioned, but this is more common among the
backland shades.

Lest the reader cultivate a negative impression of the
Darsh, their virtues must be indicated. They are brave,

THE DEMON PRINCES

594

there are no Darsh cowards. They never utter falsehoods;

they would thereby compromise their pride. They are
guardedly hospitable, in the sense that any stranger or off-
world wanderer arriving at a remote shade is provided food
and shelter as his natural right. The Darsh may confiscate,
preempt, or simply avail himself of any object for which he
has an immediate use, but he will never deign to pilfer; the
stranger's belongings are safe. However, should this
stranger discover a pocket of black sand, he might well be
confronted, robbed and murdered. The Darsh admit such
acts to be crimes but apply no great moral indignation to

the perpetrators.

In regard to Darsh food, the less said the better. The
traveler must adjust himself to a Darsh meal as he might a
natural catastrophe. It avails nothing to pretend relish; the
Darsh themselves know that their food is repulsive, and ap-
parently derive a perverse pride in their ability to consume

it regularly.

There, my traveling friends, you have, in capsule form,
a sketch image of the world Dar Sai. You may not like it,
but you will never forget it.

Gersen made the passage to Dar Sai in a Fantamic Flitterwing of
modest size and appearance. The course took him into the back-
regions of Argo Navis, close to the edge of Beyond: an area which
he had never before visited.

Ahead burnt the white sun Cora. In the macroscope Gersen
picked out the two inhabited worlds Methel and Dar Sai.

In regard to Dar Sai Traffic Directions made only a brief refer-


ence:

The major settlements are, in order of importance, Serjeuz,
Wabber's Fountain, Dinkelstown, and Belfeser. None of
these places provides other than rudimentary facilities for
the repair or servicing of spaceships. There are neither en-
try nor departure regulations; indeed, no central Darsh au-
thority. Dar Sai is to some extent policed by Methlen
agencies, for protection of their commercial interests, but
away from the four main towns Methlen influence dimin-
ishes. At Serjeuz a rectangle marked out in white indicates

THE FACE

595

the preferred landing site, for easiest access to the com-
mercial warehouses.

From a height of twenty miles, Serjeuz appeared as a small
mechanism lost on the gray, pink, and yellow waste. As Gersen
descended, details became exact in the morning light of Cora, and
Serjeuz was revealed as a cluster of parasols spilling veils of water
around the rims.

The fiasco at Rath Eileann had receded to the back ofGersen's
memory, where it rankled like a small hidden ulcer. Looking down
at Serjeuz, Gersen felt rekindled emotions: the hunter's stealth, tin-
gling alertness, awe for the nearness of the dire beast. Lens Larque's
emanations permeated the landscape. A hundred times he had
cooled himself under the flowing parasols; a hundred times, in his
fluttering white robes, he had crossed the desert between Serjeuz
and the Bugold shades. Conceivably at this very moment he ate and
drank at some favorite resort not ten minutes' time away.

In a white-bordered rectangle two dozen spacecraft of various
sorts and conditions were at rest. Gersen landed the Flitterwing
close beside the shimmering water-walls. The vessel became silent;

the deck felt solid underfoot.

Local time was midmorning. Gersen prepared to debark. Ac-
cording to the Immuno logical Index, wind-borne spores from the
bog algae, germinating in the lungs, posed the most significant
threat to human health; Gersen had already dosed himself with
prophylactic counter-agents. He donned a white hooded robe,
tucked money and bonded identity papers into his pouch, made sure
of his weapons, stepped through the vestibule, and descended to
the sandy surface of Dar Sai. Heat instantly pressed against his face.
He narrowed his eyes against the glare and set off toward the water-
wall.

Four Darsh burst through the curtain astride dilapidated vehi-
cles rolling on four-foot air-balls. They rode with fine plambosh,
bouncing and bounding, white robes fluttering behind. Thabbats
covered their faces except for metal hemispheres over their eyes,
which gave them the look of white-robed insects. They seemed not
to see Gersen and nearly ran him down; Gersen jumped to the side
and shouted a curse at their retreating backs, to no effect. The four
rode to the north toward the shimmer of a lone parasol at the
horizon.

THE DF V10N PRINCES

596

Gersen passed through the water-veil, into a jungle of vegeta-
tion growing from trays stacked fifty feet high. The lane passed
underneath, skirted a pair of domed warehouses, and ended at a
confusion of small heavy-walled concrete domes low, high, large
and small, domes piled on domes, domes impinging upon or grow-
ing out of other domes, domes in clusters of three, four, five, or
six These were the so-called "dumbles," or Darsh residences, con-
structed to an architecture at once heavy, vital, and appropriate to
the environment, like the Darsh themselves Vegetation surrounded
and overhung each dumble; in the ways and alleys wandered small
children Gersen noticed a group of young boys playing a pushing,
shoving, wrestling game a child's variation of hadaul

Gersen selected what seemed to be a principal avenue and pres-
ently passed from under the first parasol to the shelter of a second,
even loftier and more expansive, enclosing an enormous volume of
cool an-v space

The avenue opened into a plaza surrounded by concrete-and-
glass domes built in a style half-Darsh, half-Interworld Galactic
The largest of these housed the Chanseth Bank, the Miner's In-
vestment Bank, the Grand Bank of Dar Sai, and a pair of hotels
the Sfennde Select and the Traveler's Inn. Three restaurants
fronted the plaza the Sfennde Garden, the Traveler's Inn Garden,
and the Olander. The Sfennde Garden catered to a clientele Ger-
sen could not immediately identify. The Traveler's Inn Garden,
spreading haphazardly under lime, persimmon, and sweet amssus
trees, served a variety of patrons tourists, business travelers, mis-
cellaneous wanderers and spacemen, a few white-robed Darsh The
Olander at the far side of the plaza catered only to the Darsh

Of the hotels, the Sfennde Select seemed the most grand, the
most expensive, and presumably the most comfortable The Trav-
eler's Inn, while perhaps more relaxed, seemed a trifle shabby Ger-
sen once again inspected the folk in the Sfennde Garden They
were a handsome people, dark-haired, with clear pallid olive com-
plexions and regular features They wore formal garments of a style
strange to Gersen, like the Sfennde Select itself they seemed in-
congruous to the surroundings of Dar Sai Gersen could more easily
have imagined them at a fashionable resort on a remote world at a
time either in the far past or far in the future

Intrigued, Gersen decided to take lodging at the Sfennde Se-
lect He crossed the plaza and sauntered through the garden res-

IHL FACE

597

taurant The patrons, pausing in their conversations, turned to
watch him with a cool curiosity he found not altogether flattering

He entered the lobby, which under an oyster-white ceiling, oc-
cupied the entire ground floor From a central pool grew a tree
with black and orange leaves, small birdhke creatures hopped
through the branches, dived into the pool, fluttered once more aloft
whistling soft flutehke tones The reception desk occupied an alcove
to the side, Gersen approached The clerk, a sallow young man with
an austere visage, turned Gersen a quick side-glance, then studi-
ously focused his attention upon the ledger in which he had been
making entries

Gersen said in a gentle voice, "At your convenience, please
summon the reception clerk, I wish to engage a room, or, better, a
suite "

The clerk spoke in an even monotone: "We are unable to offer
accommodation, we are completely booked. Try the Traveler's Inn,
or the Olander."

Gersen wordlessly turned away and departed the Sfennde Se-
lect The folk in the garden seemed not to notice him. He crossed
the plaza to the Traveler's Inn, a hostelry with a character totally
different from that of the Sfennde Select The Traveler's Inn had
been constructed m the Darsh manner, with heavy reliance upon
improvisational insights The three curving rows of parabolic
arches, the eight intersecting domes, the rotundas, upper decks, and
balconies had been assembled in a spirit of adventure and lent the
edifice a definite flavor of plambosh. The entry led through thick
walls into a lobby, practical rather than sumptuous At a circular
reception desk worked a thin sandy-haired man with a thin jaw and
long chin He greeted Gersen with a courteous if perfunctory sa-
lute "Your wishes, sir3"

"A suite, the best available I expect to be staying several days,
perhaps a week, or even longer "

"I can suit you very well, sir I have in mind a fine airy bedroom
with a sweeping view across the plaza There is a splendid lavatory,
a parlor carpeted in green frieze, and generally excellent furniture
If you wish to make an inspection, mount the staircase, turn right
into the first corridor, and enter the blue door trimmed in black."

Gersen visited the rooms and found them to his taste Return-
ing to the reception desk, he paid over a week's rent to formalize
his occupancy

THE DEMON PRINCES

598

The clerk was favorably impressed. "We are happy to secure
your patronage, sir."

"I am reassured," said Gersen. "At the Sferinde they wanted
nothing to do with me."

"No mystery there: the Sferinde is a Methlen resort; they cater
to no one else."

Enlightenment came to Gersen. "So those are the Methlen.
They seem quite exclusive."

" 'Exclusive' is the proper word. If Holy Symas in all his splen-
dor came down to the Sferinde with a retinue of double-winged
mantics and trumpet-playing cherubs mounted on lions, they'd send
the lot trooping across to the Traveler's. Expect nothing better of
the Methlen."

The clerk, both voluble and alert, might prove a valuable source
of information, reflected Gersen. He asked: "Why do they come
to Dar Sai in the first place?"

"Some have business interests; others are sheer tourists. You'll
often see a contingent out in Traveler's Garden inspecting the
lower classes. Still, they're not vicious or even odious. Their wealth
allows them to play at life; everything is a dramatic game. At Serjeuz
they are all effete aristocrats, with the poor unwitting Darsh as clods
and varlets." The clerk made a tolerant gesture. "Still, what of it
all? I too am supercilious now and then."

"One would never believe it," said Gersen graciously.

"Oh, I have become easier over the years. Remember, I must
deal with every lout and mooncalf who chooses to show me his
face, just as I am doing now. For many years my nerves were like
electric wires. Then I discovered the first axiom of human accord:

I accept each person on his own terms. I keep a close tongue in my
head; I offer opinions only when so solicited. What a remarkable
change! Dissension vanishes, novel facts emerge, digestion flows
like a wide river."

"Your ideas are interesting," said Gersen. "I would like to dis-
cuss them later, but now I think I will try your restaurant."

"Very good, sir. I wish you a pleasant meal."

Gersen stepped into the garden, and selected a table with a view
across the plaza. He touched a button and the tabletop became an
illuminated display of the food and drink on order. A waiter stepped
forward. Gersen pointed to one of the depicted items. "What is
this?"

THE FACE

599

"That is our 'Sunday Punch.' It is enlivened with three tots of
Black Gadroon rum and a half gill of Secret Elixir."

"The day is still somewhat young. What is this?"

"That is a simple swizzle, prepared from fruits and pale elixirs."

"That sounds more practical. What is this?"

"That is 'tourist ahagaree,' especially modified to suit the off-
world taste."

"And this?"

"Those are parboiled night-fish, fresh from the bogs."

"I will have simple swizzle, ahagaree, and a salad."

"At your order."

Gersen sat back in his chair and contemplated the surroundings.
The plaza extended to a bank of trees with leaves of a rich nutmeg-
brown; beyond rose the shafts of distant parasols. In certain areas
veils of falling water obscured the view; in others he could see to
the far edges of Serjeuz. Cosmopolitan architects, using standard
materials and Darsh motifs, had created most of the structures
around the plaza, with the notable exception of the Traveler's Inn,
which seemed authentically Darsh.

The waiter wheeled up a trolley loaded with covered salvers.
The ahagaree was placed on the table with flanking side dishes. To
the left went the salad, to the right a beaker of "simple swizzle."
The waiter withdrew. Gersen tasted with caution and found "tourist
ahagaree" definitely more palatable than that served by Madame
Tin tie.

Gersen ate a leisurely meal, then sat musing over a pot of tea.
From his pocket he brought a memorandum prepared by Jehan
Addels and submitted to him immediately before his departure from
Aloysius. It started off briskly:

Kotzash Mutual is an operation formulated by an ingenious
trickster with considerable financial expertise. Also evident
is a cruel impudence and the utter absence of scruples one
might expect in a deep-sea monster. The two gentlemen of
our recent acquaintance, taken in tandem, are reflected in
the Kotzash charter as in a mirror.
The charter reads, in part:

To ensure efficient and expeditious management the execu-
tive directorship shall be vested in that person or entity holding

THK DEMON PRINCES

the largest number of shares. The second directorship shall be
vested in that person or entity holding the second largest number
of shares. The third directorship shall he vested in that person
holding the third largest number of shares. In all cases, the min-
imum qualification shall be ownership of at least twenty-five per-
cent of shares outstanding. Other shareholders shall vote in
proportion to their holdings to elect an advisory council^ whose
duty shall be to advise and inform the directorship in regard to
efficient and profitable operation.

The directors, or their nominees, and the advisory council,
shall meet at such time and place as may be designated by the
executive director^ to consult and to direct the management of the
syndicate. At such meetings each director shall vote in proportion
to his number of shares. If any director or his nominee is absent
from the meeting, the directory, or director, present shall consti-
tute a quorum.

You will observe that the executive director effectually
controls the company, inasmuch as he can call meetings at
the time and place of his choosing, no matter how incon-
venient to the other directors and the advisory council.

Four thousand eight hundred twenty shares are in cir-
culation; 2,411 shares constitutes a voting majority. The
largest stockholder of record, according to the Interworld
Agency is:

Ottile Panshaw
The Dindar House
Serjeuz, Dar Sai

holding 1,250 shares. Chanseth Bank (headquarters at
Twanish, Methel, with a branch at Serjeux) holds 1,000
shares. A certain Nihel Cahous, oflnkin's Shade, Dar Sai,
holds 600 shares. I attach a list of small holders, more or
less complete.

The price per share, as currently listed by the LAES, is
one cenrim per share. In short, the shares are worthless.
The shares I have mentioned total 2,850. You currently
hold 92. The remaining 1,878 shares are scattered among
a hundred or more individuals, at almost every' shade of Dar
Sai.

THE FACE 601

Despite the almost negligible value of the shares, it is
interesting to note that Kotzash now possesses substantial
assets, including control of a pair of subsidiaries: Hector
Transit (which has recently collected a handsome insurance
payment); and Didroxus Mining and Exploration. Kotzash
would seem underpriced except for the fact that the exec-
utive (and single) director is Ottile Panshaw.

The situation has its interesting aspects, but I would
not care to explore them at close range. I wish you good
health and longevity, and urge caution upon you, both out
of personal esteem and consideration of self-interest, since
I would have to look long and far to find work as remu-
nerative.

With my very best respects:

JA

Gersen put away the letter, leaned back in his chair and sat in
profound cogitation. The way to Lens Larque-led through Ottile
Panshaw, perhaps via Kotzash Mutual. At this moment the stuation
was even and serene, like a pond on a windless day. The great fish
lurked hidden beneath glassy reflections. To force him to move, to
lunge, to display himself, the water must be disturbed.

Out into the garden stepped the receptionist, to stand blinking
this way and that. Gersen raised his hand; the receptionist ap-
proached: a wiry little man, sandy-haired, with a thin face and wise
heavy-lidded brown eyes, either bow-legged or lame, so that he
walked with a swaggering hop.

"Sit down," said Gersen. "May I offer you a 'Sunday Punch'?
Or would you prefer something less conspicuous?"

"Thank you." The receptionist turned to the waiter. "I'll take
a gill of that good Engelman Yellow." He turned back to Gersen.
"You enjoyed your meal?"

"Yes indeed. The management seems to understand outworld
tastes."

"They ought to, by this time. They've been at it for years."

"What of yourself? You're not native to Dar Sai."

"Certainly not. I was born at Svengay, on Caph TV. A lively
little world; have you ever visited there?"

"No. My closest approach would be the Mizar system, or per-
haps Dubhe. I'm not certain of the distances."

602 THE DF..MON PRINCES

"I see you've had your share of wandering among the stars.
Where is your home, may I ask? Usually I can make a guess, but
in your case I am baffled."

"I was born in a world you have never heard of. As a boy I was
taken to Earth by my uncle."

"And where did you live on Earth?"

"We never stayed long in one place. I know London well, and
San Francisco, Noumea, Melbourne—wherever my uncle chose to
educate me." Gersen smiled faintly as he remembered the style of
his uncle's instruction. "I am also well acquainted with Alphanor,
and the Concourse in general. May I inquire your name? I am Kirth
Gersen, as you know."

"I am Daswell Tippin, at your service: a person of no preten-


sions.

"Speaking of pretensions, I was interested to hear you speak of
the Methlen. They are a people unfamiliar to me."

"They are a group of over-wealthy bashaws and not particularly
interesting," said Tippin. "I seldom have dealings with them. Their
money comes from duodecimates, and they are here principally to
look after their interests. For all I know they are indeed glorious,
superb, and exquisitely sensitive. Had I these attributes I might also
avoid tourists, Darsh and other vulgarians."

"Do the Methlen themselves mine duodecimates?"

"Certainly not. Show one a shovel, he'd call it an implement.
They buy, sell, deal in options, leases, futures, and all mining fi-
nance, and of course they all have vast investments."

"What ofKotzash Mutual? Was that a Methlen operation?"

Daswell Tippin darted Gersen a swift sharp glance, then gave
a snort of disgust. "To the contrary. Kotzash Mutual was advertised
as a counter to the Methlen: a way to beat them at their own game.
It cost me six hundred good SVU."

"Then you must know Ottile Panshaw."

"By sight, no more," said Tippin with a prim sniff. "He still
keeps his office yonder under Skansel Shade."

"He's not considered a swindler and a scoundrel?"

"I've heard hard talk, but what can be proved? Nothing." Tip-
pin drained his goblet and set it down with a thoughtful clink. Ger-
sen raised his finger to the waiter. "Two more of the same, please."

"Thank you," said Tippin. "I seldom take drink hut today I
find myself in the mood."

THE PACE 603

"I enjoy your conversation," said Gersen. "The Kotzash affair
is intriguing in itself. Is the name of the robber generally known?"

Tippin looked right and left. "People use a dreadful name: Lens
Larque, one of the famous 'Demon Princes.' "

Gersen nodded. "I know his reputation. He's Darsh, so I'm
told."

Tippin again glanced right and left. "Apparently so: a Bugold
rachepol.* I don't like to use his name; it falters on my tongue. He
is a trickster, with a humor like that of the devil Sclamoth, who
puts the heads of sons in their mother's ovens."

"Come now," said Gersen lightly. "A name is no more than a
word. Words are without substance."

"Wrong!" declared Tippin with intense fervor. "W^ords are
what magic is made of! Have you not read Farsakar's Cantrip Mech-
anisms? No? Then you know nothing of words!"

Gersen, who lacked any large interest in the subject, made an
offhand gesture. "We live in a world of solidities. I fear the man
and his whip. Not the words 'Lens Larque' and ^Panak.' "

Tippin frowned down into his goblet. "Well, no great matter,
one way or the other. He is human and a Darsh. How the Methlen
would love to take him! He is their bugbear; he in turn bears the
Methlen a grudge. Have you visited Methel?"

"Not yet."

"Twanish is their spaceport and first city'. The Methlen can't
abide the odor of ahagarec and Darsh must keep to a special down-
wind quarter. Isn't this a strange and wonderful universe? I believe
that I might enjoy another half gill of this excellent liquor."

Gersen gave an appropriate order to the waiter. "The Methlen
lost nothing in the Kotzash calamity?"

"Nothing whatever. The Darsh and small speculators such as
myself: we are the victims!"

"And Ottile Panshaw neither lost nor gained?"

"I wouldn't know. He disappeared for months but now he is
back in Serjeuz; I saw him only yesterday. He appears wan and
unhealthy."

"Understandable, after such a catastrophe. What might be the
value of your own Kotzash holdings?"

"RachepoL a person driven .iua\ friini his n,iti\e shade, an outcast, a homeless wanderer,
more often than not :i cnmin>il.

604 THI- DEMON PRINCES

"I own twenty shares. Twenty times zero is still zero."

Gersen leaned back in his chair, frowned up at the underside
of the parasol. He reached in his pouch and brought out twenty
SVU. "I have a foolish habit of speculation. I'll buy your shares, for
an SVU apiece."

Tippin's thin jaw slackened. He frowned down at the certifi-
cates, then turned a suspicious side-glance toward Gersen. "Spec-
ulation usually has a basis of hope."

"Mine is based on caprice."

"You do not seem a capricious man."

"Suppose Lens Larque indemnified Kotzash I would profit."

"That is forlorn thinking, if ever I heard any."

"No doubt you're right." Gersen reached out to reclaim the
money, but Tippin's skinny hand was there first. "Not so fast. Why
shouldn't you en)oy your whims2"

"No reason whatever. Where are your shares2"

"Up in my rooms. I'll bring them to you at once." He hurried
away and presently returned with the shares; money changed hands.
"I have access to other Kotzash shares," said Tippm, "I'm not quite
sure how many, but I'll also sell them at this price."

Gersen leaned back with a sour grin. "Be absolutely discreet'
Don't tell anyone that an off-worlder is buying Kotzash shares.
They'll suspect a swindle and raise their price. I won't buy and
there'll be profit for no one. Do you understand this chain of
events2"

"In every detail except one, which is why you are buying the
shares—aside from caprice, of course."

"Caprice and, let us say, altruism."

Tippm leaned back with a morose sneer. "One is as plausible
as the other. Please advance me some working capital. A hundred
SVU will suffice for today. You will surely take all and any Kotzash
shares at one SVU apiece2"

"Surely and definitely." Gersen produced the money. "One fi-
nal stipulation: under no circumstances approach Ottile Panshaw!"

Tippin's eyes shifted. "His shares are as good as any."

"He owns more shares than I care to buy. Discretion is abso-
lutely necessary. Do you agree to this?"

"W^ell, yes, of necessity. Still, I fail to understand—"

"Caprice "

THF FACE

605

" 'Caprice' is a blanket which cannot cover every bed. I took
you for a man fixed upon grim fact."

Gersen held up a packet of SVU notes "These are my facts, call
them 'grim' if you like."

"You have made your point." Tippm rose to his feet. "I'll re-
port back later today." He departed the garden, and at skipping
trot set off across the plaza Summoning the waiter, Gersen paid
his account "Where is Dmdar House2"

"Yonder, sir, under Skansel Shade. Notice the great dome lust
left of the shaft2 That's Dmdar House."

Tippm had gone toward Skansel Shade. Gersen decided to fol-
low.

From "The Darsh Habitat," by Stuart Sobek, in Cosmopohs

Dar Sai, hard by the sun Cora, is hot and and around
the equatorial band, where the sands are rich with duode-
cimates Over the centuries a race of hardy men and women
have learned tricks to defeat Cora's heat while mining
wealth from the sands These are the Darsh a race of ten
thousand oddities By day they en)oy the shelter of vast
metal umbrellas which spill veils of water from their brims
the famous "shades" of Dar Sai Unprotected out on the
Wale a man will die of heat and sun-blister in minutes,
under his "shade" he enjoys cool greenery and icy sherbets

The Darsh are not a merry folk, nor prone to philo-
sophic insight, still, they concentrate on the essence of
every instant, and display a curious propensity for enjoying
that particular quality by experiencing its antithesis Their
food is seasoned with vile condiments, so that they may
better savor cool pure water, they drink offensive teas and
beers if only to exemplify this typical perversity, which they
value for its own sake

Their erotic relationships are of a quality to alarm
placid dispositions, and apparently are based upon hatred
and contempt, rather than mutual regard

Gersen passed under the water veil which separated Central
Shade from Skansel Shade The flow, a drizzle of misty droplets,
felt cool on his face and no more than dampened his garments He

THEP4CL

607

proceeded to the Skansel Plaza, under trees and foliage, past struc-
tures age-worn and shabby, in contrast to the cosmopolitan mo-
dernity under Central Shade The folk peering from the dumbles
were urban Darsh, distinguished from desert Darsh by soft slippers,
light robes, and a sallow undertone to their complexions, still with
heavy noses, anvil jaws, and dangling jeweled ear-lobes

Gersen halted at the edge of Skansel Plaza, Tippm was nowhere
visible A few assiduous tourists wandered among the shops and
booths, buying curios from Darsh women with wooden faces and
black mustaches, or doggedly drinking Darsh beer at outdoor places
of refreshment All in all, thought Gersen, a quaint and picturesque
scene, tainted only by the psychic proximity of Lens Larque

To the right rose Dmdar House a massive pile of low flat
domes, intersecting in curving slanting arcades Across the second
level a large sign read

THE MINING JOURNAL

Serjeuz, Dar Sai
Comprehensive news of desert, mine, and shade

Ottile Panshaw maintained an office at Dmdar House Daswell
Tippm had set off in this direction, while Gersen had no wish to
confront Ottile Panshaw at this particular instant, it might be wise
to check upon Tippin's reliability He sauntered up a ramp and into
Dmdar House The foyer, paved with liver-colored tile and rank
with a smoky odor, gave upon a pair of dim corridors

A flight of steps ascended to the upper levels

Gersen consulted the directory, Ottile Pamha'w, Mining ^eaifi
ties and Leases, was designated as the occupant of Suite 103

At random Gersen chose one of the corridors and found a set
of tall green doors numbered 100, 101, 102 At the door numbered
103, Gersen paused to listen He thought to hear a murmur of
voices He put his ear to the panel Either the occupants had
stopped speaking or the chamber was vacant

Gersen moved away, fearful of discovery Adjoining offices, so
he noticed, were separated by foot-thick concrete walls there
would be no eavesdropping into Ottile Panshaw's office, except
through door or window.

Gersen departed Dmdar House At a nearby kiosk, almost con-
cealed by the foliage of a kumquat tree, a squat old lady, with a

niE DFMON PRINCES

608

bush of black hair and a remarkable mustache, sold sweetmeats,
)ournals, maps, and general oddments. Gersen bought a copy of" the
Mining Joumal and stood leaning negligently against the kiosk. To
the wall were pasted advertising placards, one over the other, an
accretion of years. The most recent read.

EXTRAVAGANZA OF TRICKS AND DANCERS

1. Panko Wapshot;

He dances a duel against the Four Armed
Snaveler.

2. Bungles and Chelts:

A merry farce.

3. The Four Scorpions and the Drunken Sna-
veler:

See them at their tricks and pranks.

4. Miffet and his Wonderful Sand-machine:

A notable invention!

5. Other farces and displays. At Twinkner's Plaza,
under Twinkner's Shade, on the 20th day of
Dirdolio.

Another placard, tattered and faded, announced:

REMARKABLE DISPLAY OF SNAVELRY!

Presenting:

Whippity Ticket and the Inept Bungles
Jumping Jipsum and the Unwilling Chelts
Caliogo and Offish

The mad khoontz catches an imbecile snaveler.
With other amusing tricks, poses,
and acrobatic feats.

Toward the front a glossy new placard, printed in green and
yellow, announced-

GRAND HADAUL

at Dinkelstown

THE FACE

Daffleday,
the 10th day oiMirmone.

Gersen's attention was distracted b\ the appearance ot a Meth-
len girl coming from the direction of Central Shade Gersen
watched her first with detachment, then interest, then Fascination
Loose black curls framed her face, which at the moment was intent
and preoccupied, but which on other occasions would seem to be
a vivacious instrument of expression.

She wore a knee-length gown of a dark green stuff, and carried
a large gray envelope. She moved with a (auntv carelessness which,
with her pale, faintly dusky skin, short straight nose, and delicate
chin, suggested a background of heedless privilege. To Gersen she
exactly represented that existence from which his circumstances ex-
cluded him and which occasionally stirred bittersweet longings in
his consciousness. . . . Passing the kiosk, the girl turned Gersen an
incurious glance, then ran up the ramp and into Dmdar House

Gersen watched her out of sight, her figure-slender and shapely,
without soft adiposity, was most appealing. He heaved a heartfelt
sigh and gave his attention to the Mmmg Journal

'['en minutes passed. The Methlen girl emerged from Dmdar
House and marched down the ramp. Meeting Gersen's gaze, she
turned him a cool stare, elevated her chin a trifle, and set off in the
direction of Central Shade.

Gersen smiled his crooked smile, folded the )ournal, and once
more entered Dmdar House. Again he approached Suite 10^, as
before, he seemed to hear subdued voices, and then the scrape ot
furniture. Gersen retreated quickly down the hall and took refuge
in the shadows behind a buttress. From Suite 103 carne two men
One was Daswell Tippm, the other a tall Darsh with a square hard-
featured face, a strong physique, and long earlobes Instead ofrohe
and thabbat he wore a conventional nutmeg-brown tunic with pale
blue breeches and black ankle boots.

The two departed Dmdar House. After a moment Gersen rol-
lowed out into Skansel Plaza, but they had entered one of the tree-
shrouded byways and could not be seen.

Gersen returned the way he had come back through the veil
of mist and out upon Central Plaza. He crossed to the Traveler's
Inn and glanced into the lobby Daswell Tippin was not at the desk.

Gersen went out into the garden. The tune was nou middle

610 THE DEMON PRINCKS

afternoon. The air felt warm and heavy; falling water created a
soporific murmur. Those folk still abroad moved at a languid pace,
and these were for the most part tourists. Gersen seated himself at
a table beside the plaza. Suddenly, there was much to think about.
He brought out Addels' letter, referred to the text, and copied off
a list:

Ottile Penshaw
Chanseth Bank
Nihel Cahouse.
Others..........

1250
1000
. 600
1970

Gersen performed a few calculations. Were he to acquire all
the Chanseth Bank stock and all that owned by Nihel Cahouse, he
could claim the executive directorship of Kotzash, although he
would still fall short of a majority holding.

Jehan Addels' candid avowals of cowardice amused Gersen.
Smiling, he looked up and once again met the eyes of the Methlen
girl, by chance passing in front of the Traveler's Garden. Gersen
could not fail to notice her look of cleanliness and perfect health.
She also seemed self-willed and haughty. Compressing her mouth,
she darted Gersen a sidewise glance of annoyance and continued
on her way. Gersen's smile became a lame grimace. Glumly he
looked after her. Delightful and superb, thought Gersen, if some-
what irascible. Through whim or curiosity she looked back over her
shoulder; noting Gersen's continued attention, she tossed her head
in contempt and marched off across the plaza. "My status, in this
case, is not at all in doubt," reflected Gersen.

Looking beyond the girl he saw the facade of the Chanseth
Bank: one of the more splendid structures of Central Plaza. The
girl entered the bank and was gone from view, but Gersen already
had refocused his mind. The Chanseth Bank held one thousand
shares of Kotzash Mutual stock. Time might well be of the essence,
now that Daswell Tippin, for better or worse, had become his as-
sociate. Gersen rose to his feet and set off across the plaza.

A formal garden flanked the approach to the Chanseth Bank;

four tall pointane trees, each a perfect teardrop, stood surrounded
by a low hedge of russet crackleberrv. Gersen passed under an arch
into a large cool area paved with blue tile. To his right a balustrade
of carved alabaster enclosed the working area; to the left spiral col-

THE F^Cf'. 611

umns supported a screen set with crystal tenses. The far end of the
chamber was a lounge area, where sat half a dozen Methlen of
various ages, including the girl Gersen previously had noted, now
in company with an older man. Observing Gersen, her )aw dropped
in surprise; she turned quickly away and spoke earnestly to her
companion.

Gersen smiled sourly and went to the counter. A minute passed,
then another. Gersen became restless. He spoke to a clerk. "This
is the Chanseth Bank, I presume."

The clerk responded in a neutral voice. "Quite so."

"Who is the managing director?"

"May I inquire your business?"

"I want to discuss a financial transaction."

"Our business is almost wholly commercial. Since we are affil-
iated with no other bank we cash neither checks nor credit vouch-


ers.

"My business is of some importance. Be so good as to summon
your managing director."

"He is that grandee* yonder, the Gentle Adario Chanseth. At
the moment you will notice that he is importantly occupied."

"Oh? That young lady is a person of distinction?"

"That is his daughter, the Gentle Jerdian Chanseth. You may
take up your business as soon as he is disengaged."

"My business transcends idle chatter with a girl," declared Ger-
sen. He left the counter and approached the lounge. Two tall men,
displaying identical bristling mustaches, came to meet him. Each
seized one of his arms and marched him swiftly toward the en-
trance.

"Here, here!" Gersen complained. "W^hat are you up to?"

"Get out and stay out," said one of the men.

"Never molest a Methlen lady; it will go poorly with you!" said
the other.

"I have molested no one'" Gersen protested. "You are making

*The Methlen term ii-nii-w signifies a sums considerably more elevated th.m that connoted
bl the term ''gentleman" l^rnin implies digniu, punctilio, e\clusi'.!t\, social poise, and
an unthinking masten of Methlen etiquette 1'he Methlen gne lip seruct to the fiction
that anv Methlen rank-, on even terms with am other, hence they u^e a single honorific.
here rendered bv "the CiLntk " In actual t-aci social distinctions are \nr\ rial, reflecting
factors far too numerous and hiihrle to he considered here

Parenthetically, it may be noted chai the Methlen are highly susceptible lo ridicule
and humiliation Their civil and Lnmmal penalties reflect this sensitnm

612 •IH^ DI-MON PRINCES

a mistake." He pulled back and resisted their impetus, but they
seized him by the back of the trousers, frog-marched him to the
entrance, and sent him flying into one of the crackleberry hedges.

Gersen rose to his feet, brushed leaves and trash from his gar-
ments, and returned into the bank

The two gentlemen, astonished by his persistence, stepped for-
ward. Gersen said crossly, "Please stand back. My business is with
the Gentle Adano Chanseth, not yourselves." He sidestepped the
two men and approached Chanseth, who had turned away from the
Gentle Jerdian.

"Well then, what is the meaning of this affair2"

Gersen produced a business card, which he gave to Chanseth.
"At vour convenience, I would like to discuss some business with
you."

" 'The Honorable Kirth Gersen,' " read Chanseth. " 'Presi-
dent, Cooney's Bank, Rath Eileann, Aloysius ' " He gave a dubious
grunt "What is your business with me^"

"Must we discuss it here3 Things go differently at Cooney's
Bank. If you came to discuss a business matter with me I would not
have you thrown into the hedge "

"There has obviously been a mistake," said Chanseth in a frosty
voice. "If you will be good enough to elucidate even an inkling of
your business, I can at least inform you as to whether I am the
proper person to consult."

"As you wish," said Gersen. "Frankly, I am here to solicit your
advice. My bank has substantial interests in the metallurgical field
and we are hoping to establish branches both here and at Twamsh.
We are interested in duodecimos and duodecimate stock."

"Let us discuss this matter privately." Chanseth led him
through a plasmatic film into an office. He indicated a chair of bent
whitewood "Sit, if you will." Chanseth himself remained standing.

Ignoring Chanseth's rather pointed rigidity, Gersen relaxed
into the chair. In a casual voice he said, "The Methlen method of
greeting a business associate is definitely unique."

Chanseth responded m a measured tone. "My daughter re-
ported that you had eyed her in an impudent manner, 'grinning and
leering,' so she put it, not once but several times, after following
her to Skanse) Shade and back, then here to the bank. I therefore
ordered you ejected "

THE FACE 613

"If anyone other than your daughter had made the complaint,"
said Gersen, "I would think her vain and giddy."

Chanseth, clearly uninterested in Gersen's opinions, gave a
grim nod. "This is a barbaric -Aorld, never doubt it. The Darsh are
an mdescnbably vulgar race, they are brutal and violent as well.
You may consider Ser)euz peaceful and orderly, so it is, but only
because the Methlen tolerate nothing else. We are on the alert for
impudence, and your conduct, whatever its nature, incurred a quick
rebuke. There let the matter rest. Please explain your reasons for
consulting me."

"Certainly. The collecting and marketing of Dar Sai duodeci-
mates is evidently an inefficient process. I suspect that these oper-
ations could be rationalized, perhaps through a central agency, to
the benefit of everyone."

"Your assessment is correct," said Chanseth. "The duodecimate
business is unstructured and disorderly. But the miners are Darsh,
and not disposed to disciplined conduct."

"Still," said Gersen, "they would appreciate the convenience of
a single stable agency Perhaps a cooperative system could be
evolved."

Chanseth gave a bark of humorless laughter. "If you wish to be
assaulted, broach this topic to a Darsh miner. Kotzash Mutual was
)ust such a syndicate. The Darsh miners took stock certificates for
their ore, the warehouse was robbed, and the certificates are now
worthless "

"I've heard something of this," said Gersen. "If Kotzash were
revived and in some way made good outstanding claims—"

"A very expensive procedure."

"Still, I may take up a few shares of Kotzash. At the very least
I would gain a presence in the community."

Chanseth nodded thoughtfully. Walking behind his desk he
seated himself. "Possibly so. I hold a few shares—a thousand in
fact—which I'll sell at a fraction of their face value."

Gersen gave an indifferent shrug. "I'd have no need for more
than a few hundred, if that many What is the board price on these
shares^"

"I'm not sure. Rather low, I daresay "

"No doubt. Well, I'll take up your shares at a strictly nominal
price. Fifty svu should be adequate."

614 THE DEMON PRINCES

Chanseth raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? For a thousand
shares, each on the face worth ten ounces of duodecimate?"

"Ten ounces of nonexistent duodecimate. Each is worth exactly
nothing."

"Quite so, unless someone undertook to indemnify sharehold-
ers. Yourself, for instance."

"You must evaluate that possibility for yourself."

"Still, fifty svu is a trifling sum."

Gersen heaved a sad sigh. "I will pay a hundred svu and no
more."

Chanseth went to a cabinet, brought out a folder, which he
placed before Gersen. "There are your shares. They are to the
interest of the bearer, no transfer document is necessary."

Gersen paid over a hundred SVU. "Money thrown away, of
course."

"I agree."

"How did you come into their possession?"

Chanseth grinned- "They cost me nothing whatever. I traded
them for an item equally worthless: shares in a defunct mining cor-
poration."

"That would of course be Didroxus Mining and Exploration?"

Chanseth eyed him sharply. "How did you know?"

"The lAES lists Didroxus Mining as a Kotzash subsidiary, but
indicates no Didroxus assets."

"Correct. The only asset is mining rights on Shanitra, the
Methel moon."

"That would seem a valuable concession."

Chanseth showed his cool smile. "Shanitra has been explored a
hundred times over; it is no more than a lump of pumice. I traded
nothing for nothing."

"Your trade brought you a hundred SVU. You're a clever man."

Chanseth again showed a brief wintry smile. "I'll offer you
some free advice worth considerably more. If you envision a branch
of your bank here—or anywhere else on Dar Sai, for that matter—
reject the notion. There is no business for you. Our trade is almost
entirely Methlen; you'd get none of that, and the Darsh rarely use
banks."

"I'll keep your advice in mind." Gersen rose to his feet. "Con-
vey my respects to your daughter; a pity that she suffered distress
on my account. On the first occasion I'll personally make amends."

THE FACE 61S

"Please do not trouble yourself," said Chanseth. "She has al-
ready forgotten the incident. In any event we very shortly return
to Methel." He performed a curt bow. "Good day to you, sir."

Gersen departed the office. In the lounge the Gentle Jerdian
sat with a friend, nibbling confections. Gersen nodded politely but
she stared unseeingly past him.

Gersen went out upon the plaza. Not far away a dusty blue
dendron, spiked with white and red blossoms, arched over an out-
door cafe. Gersen found a table in a shadowed niche and was served
a pot of tea.

He sat considering the possible phases of the future. They made
a bewildering tangle: a maze, in fact, at whose center crouched a
sinister figure. Gersen smiled at the extravagance of the image.
Lens Larque crouched somewhere, certainly. He might be that
bulky man munching a custard bun across the cafe; Gersen had no
way of knowing. Like all the Demon Princes, Lens Larque con-
cealed his public identity. Through the maze led a single thread, of
several strands: Kotzash Mutual Syndicate, Ottile Panshaw, Di-
droxus Mining, and the Shanitra exploration and development
leases (why had Panshaw troubled to make the trade?); and now,
conceivably, Daswell Tippin (why had Tippin, almost instantly and
despite Gersen's admonitions, gone directly to the offices of Ottile
Panshaw? Who was that quasi-Darsh Tippin had met there?).

The next twist along the "Kotzash" strand would seem to lead
to Nihel Cahouse oflnkin's Shade, who owned six hundred Kotzash
shares. How had Cahouse gained so large an interest, equivalent to
three tons of black sand? No matter what his methods, it would be
wise to reach him in advance of Daswell Tippin, or anyone else.
... At the thought of Tippin, Gersen made a restless movement.
The enlistment of Tippin might well have been a serious mistake.
Originally, he had seemed a useful agent for the collection of small
holdings, but Tippin might now have his sights set on larger trans-
actions.

Who then was Cahouse and where was Inkin's Shade?

A shop sign nearby caught his eye:

THE DESERT TRADING POST

Equipment for the Tourist
Travel Information

616 THF DPMON PRINCES

Expeditions and Excursions,
arranged and conducted.
Witness an authentic hadaul
in safety and comfort.

Gersen went to look into the front window. The display fea-
tured articles designed to expedite desert travel: motor bubbles,
skimmers, Darsh-type robes, insulated boots and undersuits, air-
conditioning packs, and like merchandise. A rack of books, maps,
and pamphlets was flanked by a pair of easels. The first supported
a poster entitled:

NOTICE TO TOURISTS

with an appended text. The second displayed a poster printed in
dramatic green and yellow:

GRAND HADAUL

at Dinkelstown
Daffleday,
the 10th day ofMirmone.

One of the great games of the year!
An event not to be missed!

Travel in comfort with our experienced guide,
and witness this typical Darsh spectacle.

Gersen entered the shop and bought a book entitled The Clans
of Dar Sai, a folio of maps, and a pamphlet Guide to the Shades

He took his purchases back to the table under the tree. He
spread out the map: a strip three feet long by a foot wide, tinted
various colors over an underlying base tone of sandy yellow. The
limiting areas, at top and bottom, tinted green, were labeled BOG
and were otherwise featureless. The four principal towns: Serjeuz,
Wabber's Fountain, Dinkelstown, and Belfeser, were indicated by
black stars, smaller settlements by large black dots, isolated shades
by small dots. Places of historical interest, tourist spectacles, and
the like—"Strangler's Gantry," "The Tournaline Towers," "Scor-
pion Farm," "Bagshilly Plain," "The Skutch"—were marked by

THE hid 617

crosses or dotted outlines. Tinted areas, some large, some small,
indicated clan domains. Gersen located "Bugold Region" and
"Bugold Shade" somewhat to the north and two thousand miles
east of Ser|euz. .  Looking up from the map Gersen noticed Das-
well Tippin hopping and trotting across the plaza with a look of
worried concentration on his face. His eyes darted right and left,
but he failed to notice Gersen in the shadows. With interest and
amusement Gersen saw him enter the Chanseth Bank The inter-
view between Tippin and Adano Chanseth would gratify neither.
Keeping halt^ an eye on the bank, Gersen folded the map and looked
into The Clam of Dar Sai The first chapter outlined the early his-
tory of Dar Sai: the building of the shades, the formation ot the
clans. The second, third, and fourth chapters described the typical
circumstances of a clan, its interpersonal relationships, procreative
habits, caste distinctions, and recreations. In the fifth chapter, the
game hadaul was analyzed at length, the author tending to the belief
that the games of any specific society could be viewed as a micro-
cosm of the society itself. . . . From the bank came Daswell Tippin,
his gait perceptibly less brisk. He looked nervously in all directions,
walked listlessly to the care, and seated himself with his back to
Gersen, not ten yards away.

A waiter approached, Tippin gave a terse order, and was served
a small glass of carbonated punch, which he sipped as if it were a
medicinal draught. With a nervous gesture he reached into the
pocket of his jacket and brought out a sheaf of papers, Gersen saw
them to be certificates very like those he had bought trom Chan-
seth. Iippin counted through the sheaf with fidgeting fingers.

Gersen rose to his feet, walked up behind Tippin, reached over
his shoulder, and took the certificates from Tippm's suddenly pal-
sied hand.

"Good work," said Gersen. "I'll take these now and pay you
tonight. Carry on." He returned to his seat.

Tippin uttered a small choked protest He half rose rrom his
seat, then slowly subsided.

Gersen counted the certificates- six of twenty shares, five often
shares and eight singles- 178 in all.

Tippin watched him wordlessly a moment, then slowly turned
and hunched over his drink, the curve of his back eloquent of angry
reproach

Gersen added up his shares. 1,112 plus 178 1,290. He now

618 I HI- UPMON PRINCES

commanded sufficient shares to qualify as a director- even executive
director ifOttile Panshaw continued to hold only 1,250 shares- not
a realistic hope. .  At Tippm's table, appearing as if from nowhere,
stood the tall Darsh Gersen had noticed at Dmdar House. He
dropped into a seat beside Tippin, who spoke a single terse sen-
tence. The Darsh uttered a disgusted expletive and glanced in con-
tempt tow ard the bank. He put a brusque question to Tippin, who
gave his head a helpless shake and offered a placatory7 explanation,
which prompted the Darsh to another curse. Tippin made a meek
comment which failed to ameliorate the situation. The Darsh
)umped to his feet and strode off across the plaza. Tippm watched
him go, then looked sidewise toward Gersen, who returned a cold
stare. Tippin hopped over to Gersen's table. Attempting a sedate
and businesslike manner, he settled into a chair. "Those shares were
not intended for you."

"Who were they intended for?"

"No matter. You must return them."

"Small chance of that. I'll pay you your money if you want it."

"I want the shares. I had taken them in trust for that Darsh
gentleman."

"Who is he3 WTiat is his sudden interest in Kotzash shares7"

"His name is Bel Ruk. I don't know why you want the shares,
and I don't know why he does."

"He wants them only because you told him that I wanted
them—exactly contrary to my instructions."

Tippin twisted his mouth in a wincing grimace. "No matter.
Those shares are mine and I want them back."

"You bought them for me and I'm keeping them. Do you want
your money3" Gersen counted out 180 SVU. "There it is."

Tippin picked up the money with indecisive fingers. "This im-
poses a great inconvenience upon me."

"You shouldn't have gone to Dmdar House. You made the
inconvenience for yourself."

Tippm grunted. "I was at one time Panshaw's associate; that's
the truth of the matter. I have no choice in what I do."

"Bel Ruk also works with Ottile Panshaw3"

"I suppose that's the way of it."

"With'or'for'3"

" 'For.' That's my guess."

"How many more shares can you locate3"

THE FACE 619

"None' I am finished with this business!" Tippin )umped to his
feet. Like a nervous bird he peered through the foliage as a party
of young Methlen settled at a nearby table. He looked down at
Gersen. "Do you know what the Darsh mean by 'rachepoP"

"I've heard the word."

"It means 'crop-ear'—that's the same as 'outcast.' Bel Ruk is a
rachepol He has no conscience. He is a skillful killer. If you value
your life, leave Ser|euz." Tippin departed the cafe, and limped at
best speed across the plaza.

Gersen returned to his reading. A few minutes later one of the
Methlen at the nearby table )umped erect and approached Gersen:

a tall young man with fine black eyebrows, a long nose, and a spare
patrician cast of countenance. "Sir' A moment of your time!"

"Certainly," said Gersen. "What do you want3"

"I am puzzled by your conduct. I request an explanation."

"There is little to explain. My conduct is as you see. I sit here
drinking tea and reading this book, which I bought at the shop
yonder. It describes the habits of the Darsh."

"That is not the conduct I had in mind."

"Please explain."

"I refer, in essence, to your traffic m Kotzash shares."

"The basic principle is: "Buy low, sell high.' Why not make
inquiries of the Gentle Adano Chanseth3 He is skilled in these
affairs and can give you far more information than I."

The young man seemed not to hear. "I am concerned with your
acts of misrepresentation and to the suspicions which you have gen-
erally aroused."

Gersen, smiling, shook his head. "I can't go into such vague
matters. We would sit for hours defining our terms, and I for one
have not so much time to spare."

The young man's voice rose in pitch. "You have instigated an
odd series of events. I want to know what more you intend."

"For a fact, I don't know. And now, please excuse me " Gersen
returned to his reading. The Methlen took a half step forward.
Gersen sighed and began to gather his books.

A second person approached the table. "Aldo, the matter is
really of no consequence. Come, we want to discuss the excursion."

Looking sidewise Gersen saw a lower torso clad in soft dark
green; raising his eyes, he discovered the upper parts and face of
Jerdian Chanseth.

620 THE W MON PRINCES

Aldo, never taking his eyes from Gersen, said crisply "This
man is devious for a fact' I find him barely civil."

"Well what of that3 Things are as they are, do you hope to
alter his nature3"

"Even andropes can be guided, perhaps I should have a word
with the constables A prod with the truncheon might do wonders
for this fellow's disposition."

"Or it might make him more surly than ever Leave him to
crouch in his lair why concern yourselP"

"It is not so simple His manipulations already are a source of
trouble to your father "

"Well then, let me talk to him Perhaps he will conduct himself
gracefully "

"I think not This is a gentleman's affair "

Jerdian's voice took on an edge. "Aldo, stand aside, or better,
go back to the table "

"I will wait here," said Aldo with glacial dignity.

Gersen had followed the conversation with only mild interest
AsJerdian dropped into the seat vacated by Tippm, he rose politely,
once more seated himself "This is an unexpected pleasure May I
offer you tea3 I am Kirth Gersen, by the way "

"No tea, thank you Why are you here at Serjeuz3"

"I could give you a dozen answers," said Gersen "I travel a
great deal I like to explore odd corners of the galaxy I am inter-
ested m exotic peoples like the Darsh and the Methlen, I consider
them picturesque."

The Gentle Jerdian's lips curled Gersen could not decide
whether she was irked or amused "You are evading me "

"Not at all There is far too much to tell Send this fellow away
and we will spend the rest of the day together, and perhaps the
evening as well "

Aldo stiffened and drew back "I have never heard such
astounding nonsense' Jerdian, come along, this man's impertinence
is tiresome "

Jerdian turned him an expressionless glance and Aldo became
abruptly silent Jerdian spoke to Gersen in a silken voice- "You have
represented yourself as a banker "

"True "

"You are like no banker I have ever known."

"Your instincts are sound The usual banker is diffident and

THE FACE 621

ruthless only when the odds are on his side. What, in fact, is your
opinion of me3"

"If anything, I think of you as the man who has )ust swindled
my father "

Gersen raised his eyebrows. "Odd' Your father was sure that
he had exploited my innocence "

Aldo cried out. "These remarks verge upon slander! They will
bring you to grief"

Gersen said to Jerdian: "Why not ask this gentleman to leave
us3 He is like a raven at the feast"

Jerdian looked thoughtfully toward Aldo, then returned to Ger-
sen. "Unless you care to speak candidly, our conversation has come
to an end "

Gersen made a contrite gesture. "Perhaps I've been evasive, but
I stand in awe of Aldo His threats and interjections inhibit me."

Jerdian turned suddenly "A]do, please go back to the table For
a fact, it is hard to think with you looming over my shoulder "

"As you wish " Aldo stalked away. Gersen signaled the waiter
"Bring us a new pot of tea, or better, a flask of Spondent Flux and
two glasses "

Jerdian drew back, disassociating herself from Gersen's conviv-
iality- "I don't care for anything In a moment I must get back to
my friends "

"Why bother to come at all3 You evidently find me detestable "

The remark amused Jerdian, she laughed and became more
winsome than ever Gersen felt a sudden throb To love Jerdian
Chanseth, and with her correspondingly in love, would be a fasci-
nating circumstance

Jerdian, perhaps sensing something of Gersen's mood, spoke in
a carefully neutral voice "I will explain my interest, it is perfectly
simple. The Kotzash scandal involved the notorious Lens Larque.
When we hear the word 'Kotzash' we are instantly on edge "

"Understandable."

"Then why are you buying Kotzash shares3"

"It's a tactical matter, and not at all discreditable If I explained
to you, you'd tell your father, who would tell a dozen others, and
I would be inconvenienced "

Jerdian looked off across the plaza. Then she said "And you
are not connected with Lens Larque3"

"Definitely not If I were, I'd hardly advertise the fact "

622 1 HI- DEMON PRINCES

Jerdian gave her shoulders a half-frivolous, half-disdainful
shrug "You seem very much aware of him."

"So do you "

"For good reason He is our local bugbear In fact, we have
had an unpleasant little adventure involving Lens Larque Of course
he is Darsh of the deepest dye and rachepol to boot Do you know
that word5"

"It means 'outcast' "

"Something of the sort The Darsh make a great ceremony and
cut off one of the culprit's ears "

"I cut off the other," said Gersen

Jerdian )erked her head around "What did you say3"

"What was the offense that cost Lens Larque his ear5"

Jerdian put on a face of cool dignity. Lens Larque's offense
evidently was one which polite Methlen girls considered either un-
imaginable or unspeakable "I am not acquainted with the details
And still you have given me no information."

Gersen picked up his goblet and squinted through the facets of
the crystal "With the representative of Chanseth Bank, I am close-
mouthed and evasive With someone whose personality could be
considered charming, stimulating, even endearing, I'd have many
things indeed to tell "

Jerdian again gave her frivolous shrug "You are definitely im-
pertinent, and very forward "

Her voice, Gersen noted, seemed neither peremptory nor bit-
ing. She added thoughtfully "I had reason to complain of you ear-
lier today "

"You misunderstood everything I looked up from a letter
which amused me, and saw you, but I neither 'grimaced' nor
'leered ' Then I saw the Chanseth Bank and went there to transact
business, but instead was e)ected "

Jerdian's dignity had almost evaporated "Well then, what of
Dmdar House7 Surely you followed me7"

"How is that possible7 I was there before you arrived."

"Well—true. But even now you are expressing yourself in per-
sonal terms "

"I can't help but notice that you are fascinating to look at, and
pleasant to talk to Shall I go on7"

"Please do not trouble yourself "Jerdian rose to her feet "You
are indeed a strange man. I can't decide what to make of you "

THE FACE 623

Gersen stood erect "On better acquaintance you may be less
skeptical."

"Our acquaintance has no prospects- If you are interfering with
Lens Larque, he will have you killed "

"He is not yet aware of me. There is still time "

"Not really I'm returning to Methel directly after the Dm-
kelstown hadaul Are you still likely to be alive7"

"I hope so Will I see you before then7"

"I don't know"

Jerdian went back to her table. Aldo and her other friends had
been covertly watching, at once they put questions, to which Jerdian
gave absentmmded responses. Presently the group went off toward
the Sfennde Select Hotel.

Cora slid down Dar Sai's chalky blue sky, trembled on the horizon,
became red and oblate, then quickly disappeared, leaving a lemon-
yellow afterglow Hundreds of miles to the north and south, high
flakes of cirrus glinted vermilion, then purple, then faded from
sight With the coming of dusk the desert air cooled The Serjeuz
water veils dwindled to random drops and the evening breeze
moved through the domes without impediment With the cessation
of falling water, Serjeuz seemed oddly silent, and the white-robed
Darsh moving across the plaza were altered into mysterious crea-
tures of intrigue

One of the white-robed shapes was Gersen, carrying a soft bag
containing what might be considered the tools of his trade As he
passed from Central Shade into the even dimmer precincts ofSkan-
sel Shade, he reflected that if Jerdian Chanseth could be with him
now, and know his various accoutrements, she would consider him
a strange man indeed

Just as well that Jerdian was somewhere else, thought Gersen,
presumably safe in the polite environs of the Sfennde Select Hotel
Just as well, or even better, if he could put her definitely out of his
mind By no reach of the imagination could she ever become part
of his precarious life, for which she herself predicted a sudden end

The idea at once saddened him and keyed him to his highest
level of competence He approached Dmdar House alert as a hunt-
ing beast, with all his faculties, conscious and subconscious, moni-
toring the environment

He halted in the shadows beside the vendor's kiosk The pro-

-IHF DRMON PRINCES

624

prietress had gone home, leaving her wares and coin dish exposed
for the convenience of anyone who might choose to serve himself.*

Gersen waited. Five minutes passed; Dindar House showed
only three lights, on spikes atop the three highest domes. Through
the night air sounds arrived from far distances, clear as the small
voices issuing from an earphone. He heard a distant raucous outcry,
quickly stilled, and somewhat closer the electronic din of Darsh
music: a mindless thumping, twanging, and wailing. These sounds
only emphasized the quiet of Dindar House.

Gersen left the deep shadow. Quiet and soft as a wisp of smoke
he slid up the ramp and into the entrance hall. Here again he
paused to listen, but now the outside sounds were muffled, and
nothing could be heard but dead silence.

He flicked on a flashlight, swept it up the hall, and saw, as
before, moldy concrete, heavy archways, old varnished wood. He
dimmed the light to a glimmer, walked on long soft strides down
the hall to the tall green door opening into the offices of Ottile
Panshaw.

Carefully he examined doorway, door, lock, and latch in a ten-
dril of light but found no sign of alarm or monitor. He tested the
door; unlike most Darsh doors this was securely bolted, with a lock
proof against manipulation. Significant, thought Gersen. Locks
were discovered only in conjunction with objects of value.

*The Darsh are not prone to petty theft, indeed, away from the towns, thievery is virtually
unknown. Murder face-to-face and robbery, especially in connection with duodccimates,
is rather more common, but still considered d vile crime The perpetrator, -when appre-
hended, is first whipped raw, then chained out among the rocks, where he becomes prey
to the lancilark, gnaw-bugs, and scorpions The crime considered most vile b\ the Darsh
is the then: either of another's desert-roller, or his water supply The penalties entail
flogging, then staking out at the bottom ot the town's cesspit.

^s a note of possible interest, the otfense which occasioned Lens Larque's election
from Bugold Shade was the theft of an air conditioner from the corpse of a man who had
drunkenlv fallen into poisonous cactus The crime v.ss considered repulsive but not su-
perlatively heinous Husse Bugold, .is he was then known, suffered the loss of an earlobe
and was "hipped awa\ from Bugold Shade

As another sidelight it might be noted that Jerdian Chanseth, lacking exact infor-
mation as to the nature of Husse Bugold's transgression, automancalh imputed to him
that sin regarded most reprehensible hy the Methlen i e , unnatural sexual conduct, ac-
tivity' which the Darsh take for granted hence her reaction LO Gersen's question

I he full scope of comparative criminology is morbidly fascinating, and is discussed
not only in Book \ 11 of Baron Bodissey's monumental exegesis of the human condition,
but also in more specialized works, such as Karen Miller's Intelplawtui-y Cii/m Cansef and
Cofiwjttvvie^ or Theodore Pedersen's Peuanf Souh Richard Peitu, in Pt'opifi of the CoranM,
discusses die almost polar sociologies of-Methel and Dar Sai at length.

THE FACE 625

He retreated to the entry ramp, and once again appraised the
surroundings. Across the plaza a pair of beer gardens, shrouded
under foliage, showed clusters of green and white lamps. No one
walked the plaza. Gersen jumped up on the slanting face of a but-
tress, edged over a dome and down upon another curved surface
which extended past a line of windows. Gauging distances, Gersen
identified that window opening into Ottile Panshaw's office, and
approached along a convenient slope of the, dome. Unlike other
windows of the row, a grating ofvondaloy tubing guarded the open-
ing, which was additionally closed off by a pane of heavy glass.

There would be no easy entry here.

The room was dark within. Gersen tried to illuminate the in-
terior with his flashlight, but was baffled by reflections.

He retreated a few steps to the next window; this open to the
night, careless whether someone might or might not intrude. Ger-
sen flashed his light within, discovering what might be the head-
quarters of an import agent. This office and that of Ottile Panshaw
at one time had functioned as a suite. A case of books, pamphlets,
and samples blocked off the interconnecting door.

Gersen stepped into the office, slid aside the case, and examined
the door. It hung on hinges and opened toward Gersen. He turned
the knob and pulled. The door held firm, secured by a bolt in Ottile
Panshaw's office.

Gersen gave his attention to the hinges. They were interlocking
and semiconcealed, impossible to disassemble without destroying
the door.

Gersen examined the door itself. Lock-picking was not one of
his special skills, still, he felt a modest confidence in his abilities.
But there might be an easier way.

The door opened toward him. The bolt or latch therefore was
only as secure as the fastening holding it to the door. Gersen put
his knee to the wall, gripped the doorknob, turned, pulled, exerting
leg-force with his knee.

A slight splintering sound, and the door opened. Gersen al-
lowed it to move only a few inches. He ran his torch around the
slit, seeking broken alarm wires. None were visible, which meant
little: Gersen knew a dozen invisible methods to guard a door. He
also had encountered chambers charged with lethal gas, to smother
the unwary intruder. Gersen sniffed the air but discovered only the
rancid scent of long human occupancy. Unlikely, in any event, that

626 THK DEMON PRINCES

Ottile Panshaw as a regular precaution would poison the air of his
office. He eased open the door and flashed his light around the
room. He saw only what he had expected: greenish brown walls, a
desk, table, three chairs, cabinet, and an incongruously expensive
communicator.

Gersen worked deftly and quickly. He inserted a trifle of re-
ceptor tape into the angle between door-molding and wall, where
it became for all practical purposes invisible. Using a pressure can-
ister he sprayed a trail of conductive film from the tape around the
door casing into the adjoining office and around the walls to the
window. Returning to Panshaw's office he repaired the bolt he had
broken loose as best he could, reinserting the fasteners into their
sockets. To casual inspection the bolt and its socket were once more
securely attached.

Gersen now turned his attention to the desk. On the top lay a
folder marked Impo'ftant, Confidential, which seemed to contain a
sheaf of papers. Gersen thought it a somewhat ostentatious invita-
tion, and bv extension of logic, a generalized danger signal. Prudent
withdrawal became instantly necessary. Gersen's sensory apparatus,
tensioned to an almost painful level, at this same instant received a
signal. Gersen paused not a second to analyze the warning. He slid
through the door, held the bolt hack against its spring tension,
closed the door, whereupon the bolt struck into its socket, and the
door was apparently secure. Gersen pushed the display cases back
into place, then went to the door into the hall. He placed his ear
against the panel: no sound. He eased the unlocked door open and
at once he heard the shuffle of footsteps along the hall. He closed
the door, shot home the latch-bolt, and ran to the window. Stand-
ing in the shadows he peered out, and there, at the back of the dim
area below, stood a man in a dark cape and a soft slouch hat. Gersen
thought to recognize the posture and dimensions of Ottile Panshaw.

Gersen drew back out of range of Panshaw's vision, should he
be wearing night-glasses. He touched his detector to the conductive
trail he had sprayed upon the wall and turned high the volume. For
a moment he heard nothing. Then: the sound of moving hardware,
the creak of the opening door. Again silence, as the room was sur-
veyed. Next footsteps and then a soft voice, apparently speaking
into a transceiver: "Nothing. No one here."

Soft and faint in response came Panshaw's voice: "Has there
been disturbance?"

THE FACE 627

"Apparently nothing."

"Perhaps a false alarm. I'm coming up."

Watching through the window^ Gersen saw Panshaw move off
toward the front.

Gersen immediately stepped through the window and out upon
the surface of the dome. Again he touched the detector to the con-
ductive trail. Presently he heard Panshaw's voice: "What caused the
alarm?"

"Lumen impact, brief and low-intensity."

Silence. Then again Panshaw's voice, cautious and thoughtful.
"Nothing seems disturbed. . .. Peculiar. I wonder about that man.
Still I am often oversubtle. He may be exactly as he represents
himself."

"That in itself is an oversubtle idea."

"Possibly true. . .. We have a mystery on our hands, which will
annoy Big Bird. But first things first, which I measure by what is
likely to cause Bird the least vexation. In this case, Cahouse comes
first. The fellow at Traveler's Inn must wait his turn."

A grunt, then: "Cahouse is not at Inkin's Shade. I may be out
several days looking for him."

"Go your best speed, but get the work done. It will be at your
own initiative: I am leaving at once for Twanish."

"So soon? You had better stay here and collect shares."

"I do as I am told. Well, so much for a false alarm. I see nothing
to keep us here. ... A moment! The door into Litto's. I believe it
has been forced. The paint is broken. ..." A mumble of words
which Gersen could not distinguish; then the shuffle of hurried
footsteps.

Gersen ran back across the dome, dropped down upon the en-
trance ramp, gained the shadows of the kiosk before turning. The
windows of both offices showed light; as Gersen watched a dark
shape appeared briefly at Litto's window, then disappeared.

Gersen returned the way he had come. Crossing Central Plaza
he noticed a troupe of musicians in the Sferinde Gardens. They
played for a large group ofMethIen all wearing an evening costume
of yellow and white, the men with pale blue sashes.

Gersen watched a moment; then smiling a trifle wistfully he
continued to the Traveler's Inn.

Behind the reception counter stood Daswell Tippin. The sight
of Gersen brought a curious expression of surprise and concern to

THE DEMON PRINCES

628

his face. Gersen approached the desk. "Why do you look at me like
that?"

Tippin blurted, "Someone called asking for you, not five
minutes ago. I thought you were in your room, and said as much."

"Who called?"

"Well—he gave no name."

"Panshaw? No? Ruk? I see. Well, no great affair. I am going
to my room now, so you were only five minutes wrong—a trivial
period. Do you agree?"

"I agree absolutely!"

"Where will I find Nihel Cahouse?"

"At Inkin's Shade; he's Fogle Clan; many Fogies live at Inkin's
Shade."

"What if he is not at Inkin's Shade?"

Tippin threw out his hands. "He might be anywhere."

"Do not mention my interest in Cahouse to anyone."

"Your interest in Cahouse is taken for granted," growled Tip-
pin. "I'd be telling nothing new."

"Still—keep a quiet tongue in your head."

"Indeed, indeed, indeed! My tongue is as secret as if it had been
torn out!"

Gersen went up to his chambers, which he inspected carefully.
Then, installing alarms of his own across doors and windows, he
bathed, went to his couch, and slept.

From Peoples of the Coranne, by Richard Pelto:

The Darsh espouse each other only through calcula-
tion. The women judge the weight of the man's duodeci-
mates; the men taste the woman's cooking and test the
comfort of her dumble: so are Darsh marriages made. The
two probably will not engage in sexual congress; both will
surely go out on the moonlit desert to pursue their amatory
affairs-

The marital relationship is formal and cool. Each party
knows what is expected of him or her and, even more
keenly, what he or she expects. If thwarted, the woman re-
taliates with rancid ahagaree or scorched pourrian; the man
in his turn will throw less duodecimate upon the table, and
spend his time at the beer gardens.

In the morning, an hour before Cora-rise, the woman
awakes the man, who sullenly dons his day-clothes and goes
to look at the sky. He utters a phrase of rather hollow op-
timism, in loose translation: "It will be good!" and sets off
to his sift. The woman looks after him with a dark phrase
other own: "Go to it, fool!"

Late in the day the man returns. As he steps under the
shade he takes a final glance around the sky and says, again
in rather hollow tones: "Asi achih!" which means, "And so
it went!" The woman, watching from the shadow of her
dumble, merely chuckles quietly to herself.

THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen awoke at dawn Rays of Cora-light flashing across the de-
sert nearly parallel to the surface cast long black shadows across the
plaza Looking from his window, Gersen thought of Rigel-hght,
also white and brilliant At the distance of Alphanor Rigel-hght
seemed cool, brittle, crackling with overtones of violet Cora-light,
received at closer range, sizzled and stung

Gersen dressed in loose gray trousers, a striped blue-and-white
singlet, air-pad sandals conventional hot-weather garments across
the human universe Using the communicator, he called the Mining
Journal, and learned that the offices would not be open for yet
another hour

Descending into the empty lobby, Gersen went out into the
garden where he found only a few conscientious tourists. He break-
fasted upon tea, fruit, pastries, and cheese imported across unknown
distances As he left the garden, water began first to drip, then to
fall in veils, from the parasol rims Day had started m earnest,
Cora's assault must be thwarted

Gersen went directly to Dindar House Ignoring the fusty halls
of the first floor, he ascended to the premises of the Mining Journal:

a room long and wide, dominated by an enormous relief map of
the Wale along one wall. The front counter showed a checkerboard
surface of )asper and )ade and supported to the right a rack of glass
vials containing the various fractions of black sand, with small disks
of the corresponding metals below, and to the left a faultless cube
of pyrite a foot and a half on the side

A man of middle years, grave, deliberate, and wearing an urbane
gray beard, came to the counter "Sir, your needs5"

"I represent Cosmopolis" said Gersen. "I've been sent out to do
a short series on Dar Sai and the Darsh My budget allows for the
hiring of a local aide, hopefully someone from your staff."

"My staff consists mostly of myself But I'll be glad to assist
you, as a hireling or otherwise "

"Excellent My name, incidentally, is Kirth Gersen "

"I am Evelden Hoe What sort of thing are you doing5"

"Perhaps a set of biographical sketches I've been told to look
up a certain Nihel Cahouse, possibly resident at Inkin's Shade "

Hoe pulled at his beard "I know the name Hmm   I can't
quite recall the connection Let's check the index Come along, this
way, if you will "

Hoe took Gersen into a back room "This is our library, so to

THE FACE 631

speak. Our index is in fair shape, if it's appeared in the Journal we'll
find it" Hoe seated himself before a buttonboard and screen.
"Nihel Cahouse. Here he is I remember the story now Shall I give
you the gist of it5 Or do you care to read the news piece3"

"I'd )ust as soon hear it from you "

"Cahouse is a Fogle, out of Inkin's Shade, and a sandminer At
a place called Jamile Wallow he located a rich sift and won over a
thousand ounces of sand He went back to Inkin's Shade and found
a hadaul in progress—or maybe he simply went back for the hadaul,
which is more likely. He bet like a man inspired and when the day
was over he'd won five thousand ounces—a princely fortune At
this time Kotzash Mutual was a going enterprise. The Kotzash
comptroller, a certain Ottile Panshaw, happened to be on hand.
Cahouse converted his sand into six hundred Kotzash vouchers

"Two days later the Kotzash warehouse was looted. Nihel Ca-
house lost everything and became the topic of a sad news item "

"Where is he now3 Still at Inkin's Shade?"

Hoe touched buttons "Here's a followup "

On the screen appeared a brief paragraph

Nihel Cahouse, the erstwhile millionaire, has returned to
the desert He'll go back to Jamile Wallow and seek another
sift.

"That's a fairly recent item," said Hoe "About three months
old."

"How will I find Jamile Wallow?"

"It's west and southerly I'll show you on the map "

"Good, but first another topic Lens Larque, who stole Ca-
house's sand "

Hoe's face became still and guarded "That is a name we men-
tion very quietly at Serjeuz "

"Still, he is Dar Sai's most famous citizen, and he'd certainly
be the sub)ect of one of my stories "

Hoe showed an uneasy smile "Understandable He is an amaz-
ing man Incidentally, he dislikes unfavorable publicity, and he has
far connections In short, he is not a man to be trifled with."

"So I am told Have you ever met him3"

"Not to my knowledge. I hope never to do so "

"What about photographs? Are any in your files?'"

THE DKMON PRINCES

632

Hoe hesitated, then muttered: "Probably not. Nothing useful."

"Our conversation is naturally confidential," said Gersen. "The
Mining Jowfial will not be quoted, nor named as a source; still,
Cosm.opolis needs a picture. In fact, it would be worth fifty, or even
a hundred svu." Gersen placed down a certificate. Hoe touched it
with tentative fingertips, then regretfully drew his hand away. "I
have no recent photographs. But only a few days ago I happened
to notice something in an old picture. ... I don't know whether or
not it's what you want."

"Show me the picture."

With a glance over his shoulder, Hoe pushed buttons. He spoke
in a suddenly brassy voice: "What I am about to show you is a
collection of quaint old clan-pictures, recorded over many years.
Where would you like to start?"

'With the Bugold Clan."

"Certainly. This is the oldest photograph on file. It was re-
corded almost two hundred years ago. Look at those people! Aren't
they a picturesque sight? In those days the Bugolds were something
of an outlaw clan; perhaps they show us their most ferocious ex-
pressions. ... Here is something more recent, possibly thirty years
old. The Bugolds again, and almost demure by comparison. On this
side stand the 'bungle boys'; over here are the 'kitchets,' as they are
called. During these fleeting transitory months, the Darsh women
are at their best. Look at this girl with her straight body and flash-
ing eyes! She is really quite handsome. Now these are the young
bucks, no longer 'bungles' but not yet fleshed out into the full reek
of Darsh manhood. Look at this one in particular! I don't know his
name, but I am told that he later committed a theft and became
what the Darsh call rachepol. WTio knows what has happened to
him? . .. Do you care to look at other photographs?"

"Later, by all means. I'd certainly like copies of these two; they
make a most interesting study."

Hoe depressed a toggle and facsimiles fell into a tray. "There
you are, sir."

"Thank you." Gersen tucked the photographs into his pocket;

Hoe did likewise with the money.

"I'm in something of a rush just now," said Gersen. "Show me
Jamile Wallow, or better, give me the coordinates, and I'll be on
my way."

THE FACE 633

Hoe touched buttons and handed the print-out to Gersen.

"Will you be returning soon?"
"In a day or so."

"Our conversation is of course confidential."
"That goes without saying. In both directions."
"Naturally." Hoe escorted Gersen to the door. "Until our next

meeting, my good wishes."

At the tourist shop Gersen rented a late-model skimmer and desert-
wear: a process which, undertaken through the instrumentality of a
languid clerk, took an extended period. Gersen envisioned Bel Ruk
fleeting through the stars toward Jamile Wallow, and became ag-
onized with nervous frustration, which he managed to dissemble.
At last he was given freedom of the vehicle. He jumped into the
cockpit, pulled up the cowl, arranged the sunscreen over his head,
then took the craft aloft. He swept through the veil of water, up at
a slant, away from the clustered parasols of Serjeuz, away to the
west.

He fixed the autopilot to the coordinates of Jamile Wallow,
pulled the speed control far back, and relaxed into the seat. Below
slid the desert in a thousand subtle variations: a gravel plain, sand
dunes breaking against outcrops of black tuff, an area of wind-
scoured canyons, a plain of pale sand heaving in mounds and swales
around a settlement of three parasols: Fotheringay Shade according
to the map. On the northern horizon stood a solitary parasol:

Dugg's Shade.

An hour passed and another. Cora kept pace with the skimmer,
bearing gradually to the north as the skimmer slanted south.

Below, another lonely shade, uninhabited and derelict: Gannet's
Shade, according to the map. No water flowed over the parasol; the
vacant dumbles hunched under a tangle of seared brambles and
skeleton trees. On the map, a red circle indicated its dead condition.
Gersen looked along the course to Jamile Wallow, which was
marked by a small red asterisk: still an hour away.

Gersen's mood grew taut. Depending upon Cahouse's where-
abouts, Gersen calculated that he had either an hour's advantage
over Bel Ruk, or a disadvantage of two or three hours. If Bel Ruk
had preceded him to Jamile Wallow his mission became dangerous.

At the horizon appeared a low plateau, and, where a low ravine
cut down to the desert floor, Jamile Wallow. Gersen saw a make-

THE DF.MON PRINCES

634

shift parasol, fabricated of arafin tubing and metal-coated
membrane. The structure had been damaged; the parasol tilted
drunkenlv to the side, dripping random gouts and spatters of water.
The parasol shaded three shacks. One had partially collapsed; two
were in little better condition. Fifty yards south, in full Cora-light,
beside a corroded clutter of mining equipment stood a toolshed
built of algaic planks.*

Gersen lowered the skimmer and drifted around the shade, per-
ceiving no signs of life. He made a second circle, then landed the
skimmer behind the cluster of huts. He lowered the cowl and was
instantly struck by a waft of hot desert air. He listened. ... A for-
lorn plash of dripping water, a sighing ot wind in the trusswork of
the parasol; otherwise, silence.

The heat began to prickle at Gersen's skin. He pulled the hood
up over his head and activated the air-cooler. Over his eyes he fitted
translucent metal hemispheres and slipped his feet into desert shoes.
Alighting from the skimmer he surveyed the landscape. To one side
the desert spread stark and far; to the other, a hopper, a rickety
conveyor, and a heap of dun sand indicated the site of Cahouse's
workings. Overhead the sagging parasol spilled an irregular trickle
of water. Nihel Cahouse was nowhere to be seen, and Gersen felt
a hollow sense of defeat.

He went to peer into the stone huts, to discover only trash and
a few trifles of dilapidated furniture. The fourth shed, fifty yards
south, evidently housed the power module, the wellhead, and the
water pump. Gersen started across the open space to investigate. A
moving glint in the sky caught his attention. He froze to a standstill
and instantly identified the object as an approaching aircraft; ap-
parently a skimmer similar to his own.

Gersen ran back under the parasol in excitement and exhilara-
tion: if Eel Ruk were aboard the skimmer, he evidently had not yet
found Nihel Cahouse. Gersen jumped aboard his own skimmer,
jerked at the controls, and slid it behind the pile of tailings. He
threw several broken sheets of arafin roofing over the skimmer,
achieving a reasonable camouflage. He armed himself with his pro-
jac and hand gun and dodged behind the tailings pile. Here he
alarmed three scorpion-like creatures, each a foot long, mottled

'Certain types of bog algae, when compressed and heated, liberate a gun, which upon
cooling hinds the matri\ into a waterproof m a l.

THE FACE 635

white and tan with orange underhodies. They erected rows of glint-
ing scales, glared from hooded emerald eyes, waved whip-stings,
and began a purposeful sidelong encirclement. Gersen destroyed
them with quick pulses from his hand gun, creating three small
tinkling explosions.

Gersen looked up into the sky. The approaching skimmer was
hidden behind the parasol. His place of concealment, he decided,
was short of satisfactory; crouching and trying to merge into the
hillside, he ran out to the plank shed. Ducking around to the back,
he hopped high and twisted in midair, and barely avoided stepping
Into a hollow crowded with a dozen basking scorpions. The stings
jerked erect; emerald eyes flashed and blinked. Gersen killed them
with a single pulse of power, then dodged behind the shed.

Overhead hung the skimmer: a craft enameled green and black,
somewhat larger than Gersen's rented vehicle. It slid under the
parasol and dropped to the surface. Two men in Darsh desert gear
alighted. Their faces, hooded and disguised by metal eye-guards,
were unrecognizable. So, too, however, was Otfile Panshaw, whose
frame was distinctively slight. The two men stood looking glumly
about the shade, much as Gersen had done.

Swinging close their hoods to maximize the effect of the cold
air,* they walked to the huts. After a glance within, they stood
pointing here and there and discussing their findings. Gersen won-
dered what could interest them. They clearly had no expectation of
finding Nihel Cahouse. What then? The Kotzash shares?

At the third hut the two men became intent. One pointed with
an air of satisfaction. He entered, and emerged with a metal box
obviously of great weight. He set it down, threw back the lid,
touched the contents, gave his head a shake which could indicate
almost anything. The other man closed the lid, carried the box to
the skimmer. His comrade looked toward the planked shed. He
gave a peremptory signal; the two crossed the sunlit area to the
shed. One flung open the door, looked within, and jumped back
with a startled exclamation. Gersen, at the rear, put his eye to a
crack. By the light entering through the doorway he glimpsed the
interior.

The second man approached. "What's here?"

The man first on the scene waved his hand. "As you see."

*A typical Darsh mannerism constantly repeated.

THE DEMON PRINCES

636

"A» achih!^

"The place stinks. It swarms with the devils."

"They create their own stink. Ah, how putrid! Well, there are
no papers here."

"Not so fast. The shrig** wants twelve hundred vouchers, six
hundred from here. We had best be diligent."

"Give him the hundred you have already gained and the news
that no more are to be found,"

"It may come to that. Bah, Cahouse would never keep the paper
out here, if he troubled to keep it at all."

"Ha, ha! Cahouse the mad reveler! He probably threw it high
into the sansuun*** with a curse. He was noted for his noble curses,
so I'm told."

"He'll utter his great curses never again."

"Let's be away from this squalid place. We've got the sand to
share; there's profit to the day after all!"

"The shrig wants his vouchers and he speaks with a heavy voice.
I am Bel Ruk, but I am not without fear."

"Even fear cannot force the appearance of nonexistent vouch-
ers.

"True. . . . Let's look once more in the huts."
The two turned away and walked toward the shade.
Behind them a voice spoke: "Gentlemen, stop in your tracks.
Do not look around; death is close at your backs."
The two men jerked quivering to a halt.
"Slowly raise your hands. .. . Higher. Walk forward, toward the
base of the parasol. Do not look around."

Ten minutes later Gersen had arranged matters to his satisfac-
tion. The two men had declared their names to be Bel Ruk and
Cleander. They stood with faces to the trusswork, hoods pulled
over their eyes and bound tight by bands of cloth. Similar bands of

*A Darsh expieuve of fatalistic acceptance' "So be it'" or "That's the way it goes'" The
Darsh do not gracefully or philosophically accept misfortune, they are good grumblers.
Asi achih indicates the final recognition of defeat, or, as m this case, the inexorable force
of destiny.

"Larva of a bog animal, notable for its sinuous dancing gait upon a pair of caudal feet.
The shrig stands four to five feet high and emits a yellow phosphorescence. At night the
shrig dance hv the hundreds across the hog to create an eerie and fascinating effect. Here
the word is used m a deprecatory sense to typify a dileruntish impractical fellow, out of
touch with reaiit\

*"Sansuun the evening breeze which follows the sun around the planet.

THE FACE 637

cloth, but from their own garments, secured their arms to the truss-
work. When, to Gersen's critical eye, both men were helpless, he
made an inspection of their persons, removing their hand guns, and
Bel Ruk's dagger. At their skimmer he investigated the box they
had taken from the hut; it contained black sand to the weight of
perhaps fifty pounds. On the seat of the skimmer rested Bel Ruk's
pouch. Within Gersen discovered Kot?-ash certificates to the ag-
gregate of 110 shares, which he took into his own possession.

He returned to his two captives, both of whom had been sur-
reptitiously twisting at their bonds. "I hope that you are taking a
good-natured view of this situation," said Gersen. "In a sense this
is your lucky day. I am taking some Kotxash shares which I found
in a pouch yonder. In exchange I have left ten svu. Since the shares
are totally worthless, you actually have reason to rejoice. I am also
taking Cahouse's black sand."

Neither Oleander nor Bel Ruk had comment to make.

"I prefer that you do not struggle against your bonds," said
Gersen. "If you broke loose I might be forced"to kill you."

Oleander's shoulders sagged; Bel Ruk stood rigid and unforgiv-
ing. Gersen watched them a moment, then returned across bright
sand to the toolshed. Bel Ruk and Cleander had left the door ajar;

sunlight shone on a rumpled heap of gristle and dry bones among
shreds of white cloth. Nihel Oahouse apparently had died while
attempting to repair his pump, perhaps by electric shock. Scorpions
by the doxens ranged in a circle. They had cut away Cahouse's
garments to feast upon his corpse.

As Bel Ruk and Oleander had remarked, the stench within the
shed transcended all ordinary degrees of fetor.

Gersen went to the hopper, found a shovel, returned to the
shed, and half dragged, half scraped the remains of Nihel Cahouse
out upon the sand. The scorpions, tinkling in rage, made sorties
with emerald eyes glaring. Gersen killed them with the flat of the
shovel.

Eventually both corpse and scorpions had been removed. Ger-
sen strolled back under the shade, and examined his captives. Bel
Ruk asked in a flat voice: "How long do you intend to keep us
here?"

"Not long now. Be patient."

Gersen returned to the shed. The stench had eased somewhat,
and the scorpions were gone. Gersen gingerly entered. First he

THE DEMON PRINCES

638

threw the master switch on the power panel, then turned to look
at what he had seen through the crack.

Nihel Cahouse had used his Kotzash shares to paper the walls
of the toolshed. The adhesive had deteriorated in the heat to a
granular crumble; the certificates peeled away without difficulty.

Gersen took the salvaged documents back under the shade and
counted them: 600 shares. With the 110 shares taken from Bel Ruk,
his holdings now totaled an even 2,000.

Gersen returned to his prisoners. Bel Ruk, chafing his bonds
against the metal, had almost won free. Without comment Gersen
made the bonds once more secure.

"Gentlemen," said Gersen, "I am about to depart. Bel Ruk has
demonstrated that the effort of an hour or so will break you loose."

Bel Ruk blurted a question: "Why do you take my Kotzash
shares? They are worthless."

"In that case, why do you carry them?"

Bel Ruk said in a rough voice: "At Serjeuz a crazy iskish pays
money for trash,"

"Kotzash shares are suddenly in demand," said Gersen. "Per-
haps that earless rogue Lens Larque is about to bring back the
money he stole,"*

Bel Ruk and Cleander maintained an uneasy silence.

Gersen watched them a moment; then, carrying the chest of
black sand to his skimmer, he departed Jamile Wallow.

At Serjeuz, with Cora half below the horizon, Gersen dropped
the skimmer down upon the sand beside his Fantamic Flitterwing.
He transferred the coffer of black sand and his Kotzash shares
aboard, then slid the skimmer through the water veil and back to
the rental agency.

Crossing the plaza to the Traveler's Inn, Gersen waited until
Tippin's attention was diverted, then slipped past and up to his
room. He bathed, changed into fresh garments, and returned to the
lobby. He allowed himself to be noticed by Tippin, who signaled
him to the desk. "Good evening," said Gersen.

"Yes, no doubt. Where have you been all day?"

Gersen fixed Tippin with a long level stare; Tippin's gaze
shifted. Gersen asked: "W'Tiy are you interested?"

"Inquiries have been made," said Tippin peevishly.

*Words like "steal," "theft," "pilfer" have a most biting connotation in the Darsh context

THE FACE 639

"By whom?"

"By Bel Ruk, if you must know, and not ten minutes ago. He
thinks that you robbed him out in the desert."

Gersen asked in a flat voice. "How could I rob Bel Ruk if I was
in my room all day?"

"I don't know. Were you in your room?"

"Do you know differently?"

"I don't know one way or another."

"This is the first time you've seen me today?"

"Yes, of course."

"And I just came down from my room?"

"That is true."

"Then tell Bel Ruk that to your knowledge I never left my
room all day."

"But are these the facts?" cried Tippin fretfully.

"To the best of your knowledge, they are indeed." Gersen
turned away and went out into the garden. He settled himself at a
shadowed table, and dined without haste-

From the lobby came Daswell Tippin. He searched the garden,
saw Gersen, and approached at an agitated trot. Flinging himself
into a chair he said in a tragic voice: "Bel Ruk has threatened my
very existence. He claims that I conspired with you; he calls me
'robber.' He says that he will take me out to Sangwy Shade.* Do
you know what that means?"

"Nothing good, apparently."

"It means those cursed Darsh whips, and don't sneer; such af-
fairs occur, to my certain knowledge!"

"When did Bel Ruk make his threat?"

"Not five minutes ago! I spoke with him by telephone; I told
him that so far as I knew you had not been gone from Serjeuz. He
became furiously angry."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Here at Serjeuz, so I suppose."

"Look here a moment." Gersen produced the list furnished by
Jehan Addels. "When you took up those shares for me, who did
you buy from? Mark off their names."

*Sangwy Shade an isolated settlement on the Sheol Barrens, inhabited b\ ruftuns, rache-
pols, and fugitives. At Sangwy Shade, the purchasing agent "Sudo Nonimus" met with
Lens Larque, an episode he chronicled m "Reminiscences of a Peripatetic Purchase
Agent"

THF DEMON PRINCES

640

Tippm glanced along the list without any great interest He
marked with a stylus "This one. This one. This one " With a
gesture of revulsion he threw down the stylus "This is madness' If
Bel Ruk sees me, he'll take off my skin "

"Today he had a hundred shares on his person, where did he
get them3"

Tippm stared at him aghast "So you did indeed rob him3"

"I took up property to which he had no right. After all, Lens
Larque looted the Kotzash warehouse "

"But that is not Darsh logic," whispered Tippin "At Sangwy
Shade we shall dance together." He turned sideways and searched
the plaza "I'll have to leave Ser)euz; I can live here no longer "

"Where do you want to go3"

"Home To Svengay. I had a bit of trouble long ago, but surely
it's forgotten now "

"Then there is no problem Take the next ship out"

Tippm held out his hands "What shall I use for money3 I've
been keeping a woman, she's bled me dry "

Gersen scribbled a note on a piece of paper, brought out a
hundred SVL, and handed both to Tippm. "Take this letter toJehan
Addels at New Wexford, on Aloysius He'll pay you a thousand
SVU, and find a job for you at New Wexford, if you so choose I
advise you not to tell the woman you are going, although it's none
of my affair If she bled you dry here she'll do it again elsewhere "

With numb fingers Tippm took the money and the note
"Thank you . Your advice is sound.   Yes, very sound. I'll leave
tomorrow, there's an outbound packet"

"Don't tell anyone you're going," said Gersen "Just go "

"Yes, exactly Won't there be a great surprise when they find
me gone3"

"Back to the Kotzash shares; where did Bel Ruk get his hundred

shares3"

"Well—twenty he got from me He picked up the others along
Melby Sift "

"Mark them off this list "

Tippin studied the schedule and made a number of marks "I
can't be sure of these. What's left is out along the Deep Wale, and
a few along Scumby Barren You won't find anyone at home now
They'll all be up to Dinkelstown for the Grand Hadauls And that's
where Bel Ruk will be, if he wants more Kotzash "

THE FACE 641

"What does Panshaw want with Kotzash3"
"When you say 'Panshaw,' you are saying 'Lens Larque ' "
"Then why does Lens Larque want Kotzash3"
Tippin searched the plaza. "I have no idea Panshaw thinks
Lens Larque is crazy He had trouble with the Methlen and nou
he wants his own back Of all men alive he is most to be feared.
Imagine an insect in human form .  Look now' Here comes Bel
Ruk'"

"Sit quiet' He won't harm you He's only interested in me "
"He'll take me away'"

"Refuse to go Say nothing, obey none of his orders'"
Tippin made an asthmatic whimpering noise Gersen looked at
him in disgust. "Control yourself."

Bel Ruk entered the garden and marched at a stately pace to
Gersen's table With exaggerated delicacy he drew back a chair and
seated himself "I intrude on no private conversation3"

"None whatever," said Tippin in a quavering voice "I must
introduce you Kirth Gersen, this is Bel Ruk, an important man of
Dar Sai " With a wild attempt at facetiousness he added "You ha\e
much m common, you both are interested in finance."

"Oh we have much more m common than that," said Bel Ruk
He shrugged back his hood to reveal his bony bronze face, massive
cheek-bones, and cropped ears Noting Gersen's gaze he said, "Yes,
it's true I am rachepol My clan dealt harshly with me Still, I took
vengeance and I cannot complain " He signaled the waiter "Bring
me a quart of beer, and these gentlemen to their taste "
"Nothing for me," said Gersen
Tippin said cautiously "I'll have a tot ofTivol "
Bel Ruk examined Gersen with a deliberation almost insulting
"Kirth Gersen, eh3 And where is your home-world3"
"Alphanor, along the Concourse "
"And you are taking up Kotzash shares3"
"WTien I can get them cheaply Are you selling^"
"I have none to sell, after suffering robbery and shame at \our
hands today "

"Surely you are mistaken," said Gersen "'1 ippm has hinted
something to this effect, I'm not sure whether or not I ha\e con-
vinced him "

"If he is convinced, he is more of a fool than I cake him for

642 I HF DEMON PRINCES

Let us discuss our business one item at a time " He held out his
hand "First, return my shares "

Gersen smilingly shook his head "Impossible "

Bel Ruk withdrew his arm and turned to Tippm "You have
strained our bonds of friendship."

"Not at all'" Tippm protested "By no means' Never'"

"We shall discuss the matter again " Bel Ruk lifted his tankard
of beer and swallowed half at a gulp The remainder of the beer he
threw casually at Gersen's face From vast experience, Gersen had
recognized the pattern of events. Bending to the side, he avoided
most of the beer In the same motion he lifted the table, thrust it
at Bel Ruk's chest and toppled him backwards. Bel Ruk fell sprawl-
ing across the garden

The waiter gingerly approached. "Gentlemen, what is the mat-
ter^

"Bel Ruk has had a bit too much to drink," said Gersen "Take
him away before he injures himself "

The waiter helped Bel Ruk to his feet, then picked up the table
and set it into its place

Gersen stonily watched Bel Ruk, who stood considering his op-
tions Finding no obviously profitable course, Bel Ruk turned and
departed the garden

Tippm said in a sick voice "He's going for his gun "

"No He's got other concerns "

"There's no way back for me now," gloomed Tippm. "It's ei-
ther Sangwy Shade or go and never return."

Gersen gave Tippm a certificate for fifty SVU "Settle my ac-
count here, through tomorrow I may also be leaving "

Tippm asked in dull confusion "Where are you going2"

"I'm not quite sure " Gersen jumped to his feet. "Excuse me,
now I'm in a hurry "

He ran up to his room, picked up items of equipment Return-
ing below, he left the hotel and ran off across the plaza and under
Skansel Shade In Skansel Plaza he halted to look up at Dmdar
House Lights showed from the windows ofPanshaw's office, there
was no time to be wasted He climbed up over the entrance, scaled
the sloping roof and sidled to the window giving on Litto's office
He brought out his detector, touched the controls to the conductive
trail he had sprayed only two nights before Bel Ruk's guttural voice

THE FACE

sounded immediately m the earphone "—not all so easy I he)'re
scattered here and there around the Wale "

"They'll be at the Dmkelstown for the hadaul, most of them "

"But that's not necessarily to the good," growled Bel Ruk
"These sitters aren't fools they'll smrf a plot and go for full re-
coy cry "

"I hat may well be Here's an idea Cry out a hadaul and post
a stake The challenge can be a hundred Kotzash shares Let the
roblers collect the shares for us "

Bel Ruk grunted "Vnd then when there's a winner2"

Panshaw's voice dripped sarcasm "Must I plan out every de-
taiP"

"You were glib enough in regard to Gersen, or whatever his
name "

"That is a different tale Gersen will not be at the hadaul "

Bel Ruk vented a gusty snort "So you say And if he is2"

"'I hat again is at your discretion The Bird would like a word
with Gersen "

"Tell the Bird to come out to the hadaul Let him show his
famous techniques "

"Maybe he'll come over without mv instructions, to comment
upon your work "

Bel Ruk's voice was suddenly dubious "Do \ou really think
so2"

"No I do not He is obsessed with his wonderful scheme "

Bel Ruk's voice came somewhat easier "So lonn- as he works
his tricks he diverts his energies "

"They'll not be diverted if he loses Kotzash "

"I can only do m\ best Gersen is not inexperienced Still, he
neglected to kill me when he had the chance."

Panshaw chuckled "He regards you as no great threat "

Bel Ruk said nothing

"Well then," said Panshaw, "do your best From here I cannot
guide your feet while you walk You are reputedly skillful in the
robles "t Fight in your own hadaul and come away with the post-
pot**

"The idea already had occurred to me "

"Rubles, the hadaul ticki
**The post pot the accumuldtion ofchJilen^t- menus rhi. \iLtnrs prize

THE DEMON PRINCES

644

"One way or another, collect at least seven hundred shares.
Then, whether or not Gersen took Cahouse's shares, we'll be se-
cure. Now I will go back to my couch; Twanish time is a taskmaster.
The cursed Methlen start the day at sunrise, just when good thieves
like you and me are ending it. Oh why must I pay the price for the
Bird's social yearnings? If it were not so funny I could cry for grief."

"All this is beyond my understanding," grumbled Bel Ruk. "It's
nothing to do with me."

"Just as well! You'd be less effective than ever."

"Someday, Panshaw, in one hand I will squeeze your neck into
a thin stalk."

"Someday, Bel Ruk, I will poison your vile beer. Unless, of
course, we lost Kotzash and the Bird gives us both to Panak."

Bel Ruk made a dull sound, and the conversation was over.

Gersen waited a moment on the chance that Bel Ruk might
make other communications, but the office remained silent, and
Gersen presently went back the way he had come.

10

Gersen flew eastward in the Fantamic Flitterwing. The desert
below, in the blaze of Cora-light, showed swaths and smears of
color: pink, ocher, a whitish yellow like talc mixed with sulfur; to-
ward the horizon the colors stratified like sediments into pencilings
of cinnamon brown, gray-green, plum, with occasional harsh
scratches where ledges of black rock broke through the surface.

Gersen crossed a region of low dunes, a line of rose-red buttes-
Beyond extended a plateau overgrown with desert flora; silky coral,
jutting ears of honeycomb, yellow sandtripe, tinkleweed, purple
magmold.

At far intervals parasols spilled water over lonely communities
where old Darsh custom persisted in the purest form. Bunter's
Shade, Ruph Shade, Itchy Nola's Shade: so read the names on the
map. Then, where Terwig Waste began, the shades were seen no
more.

Terwig Waste, a smoldering basin of liver-red pumice, once
described by an impressionable travel writer as "the floor of Hell
exposed to daylight," ended against a bone-white palisade. Beyond,
the ground lay twisted and gashed in a vast badlands of wind-eroded
sandstone, and then once again the desert spread away to north,
south, and east. Finally, the five parasols of Dinkelstown appeared
on the horizon.

Gersen approached and circled the town. On the landing area,
at the western periphery, rested an assortment of vessels: two small
cargo ships, five space-yachts of various quality, scores of desert-
skimmers, air-cars and carryalls.

Gersen landed close behind the water wall. He changed into
Darsh robes, armed himself, and disembarked. Heat struck his face;

THE DEMON PRINCES

646

he made haste to penetrate the water veil, and found himself in a
cluster of dumbles, from which issued pungent odors and loud
voices. By crooked ways he came to a plaza far less grand than
Central Plaza at Serjeuz. A single hotel-restaurant offered modest
hospitality to the offworld visitor.

Around the edge of the plaza, beer gardens under flip-flap trees
served the needs of Darsh holiday-makers. In front of the hotel
workmen made final arrangements for the hadaul- Circles had been
painted upon the paving. Two small grandstands and several sets
of serried benches offered seats of vantage to spectators,

Gersen crossed the plaza to the hotel. In the garden sat a dozen
Methlen; Jerdian Chanseth was not among them.

The hotel could offer Gersen no accommodation. "These are
the days of the clan meetings'" said the clerk in a curt voice. "Sleep
out in the bushes like everyone else!"

Gersen returned to the garden. Not ten feet distant stood Bel
Ruk in conversation with a fox-faced young Darsh. Bel Ruk wore
iskish clothes, with a white sash around his head to hide his muti-
lated ears. His back was half-turned; Gersen moved past without
attracting his notice. He halted behind a sprawling nephar tree and
watched through the black-green foliage.

Bel Ruk spoke with force and urgency. He brought a packet of
SVU from his inside pocket and slapped it against his hand in ca-
dence with his words. The young man nodded with earnest atten-
tion. Finally Bel Ruk gave the young man the packet and made a
curt gesture. The young man flicked his fingers in the Darsh signal
of assent, and departed across the plaza. Gersen paused five seconds,
then followed at a discreet distance.

The young Darsh marched at the striding plambosh gait, across
the plaza, through a jungle of vegetation, past a dozen dumbles,
under the veil of a second parasol, finally into a second plaza, where
he joined a group who sat drinking from iron pots. He spoke, and
presently money changed hands. Iron pots were tilted and emptied
and all departed, leaving only the young Darsh Gersen had fol-
lowed.

Gersen seated himself on a hummock in the shade of a plantain
bush. An insect crawled up his leg; slapping and shaking, Gersen
dislodged the creature and took himself to one of the beer gardens.
He settled into an inconspicuous seat, was served beer in an iron
pot.

THE FACE 647

An hour passed; then one of the group returned with a sheaf of
what Gersen thought to identify as Kotzash shares.

Gersen rose to his feet, walked out into the plaza, made a show
of looking around the tables, then advanced upon the table which
he had been watching. Without formality he seated himself. "My
name is Jaide; Bel Ruk will have mentioned me. There is a change
in plan. Enemies are watching him and he wishes to dissemble. You
must now work through me. How many shares have you taken up?"

"Sixteen, so far." This was the man whom Gersen had followed.

"Your name?"

"I am Delfin." He indicated the man who had brought in the
shares. "This is Bartleman."

"Very good, Bartleman," said Gersen. "Go out again; find more
shares for us."

Bartleman showed no haste to obey. "It is not so easy. Folk
consider me either a fool or a sharper. I have my dignity to con-
sider."

"What is undignified about paying good money for worthless
paper?"

"It's not worthless if someone wants to pay for it. This is the
general feeling, especially in connection with Kotzash."

"Well then, offer more money. Delfin, give him money to work
with."

Delfin grudgingly counted out twenty SVU. Gersen took the
shares, folded them, and tucked them into his pocket.

"Money is draining away," Delfin grumbled. "Ruk told me to
bring him shares and he'd give me more money."

"I'll handle that end of things," said Gersen. He brought out
the list which Jehan Addels had prepared. "A certain Lampeter con-
trols eighty-nine shares. Find him at once and buy his shares, as
cheaply as possible."

Bartleman said sullenly, "I won't get them for twenty SVU, and
where is my commission?"

Gersen paid over ten SVU of his own money. "Bring me the
eighty-nine shares, and you'll make sure of a commission."

Bartleman gave a skeptical shrug and moved away.

Gersen said to Delfin, "Remember, you will be working
through me. Under no circumstances approach Bel Ruk! It could
bring the wrath of a certain bird down on your head. Do you un-
derstand?"

648 THE DI1 VION PRINCFS

"Perfectly "

"If you so much as see Bel Ruk, give him a wide berth Do all
your business with me "

"This is clear."

Another of Delfin's couriers appeared, with nine shares Delfin
gave him another ten SVU of Bel Ruk's money and sent him out
again. Gersen added the 9 shares to the first 16 2,025 in grand
total, 386 to go

One by one the couriers returned, bringing back a total of 49
shares Bartleman returned a second time, somewhat crestfallen. He
spoke in a morose voice, "The rumor is out Everyone has become
suspicious; no one wants to sell. Those people who already sold are
now angry They call me a sharper; they want their shares back "

"Not possible," said Gersen "What ofLampeter2"

"There he sits in Valt's Arbor drinking beer" Bartleman
pointed across the plaza "That old man with the crooked nose He
says he'll sell for full value, no less "

"Full value5 We don't pay that kind of money for worthless
paper "

"Explain that to Lampeter."

"I'll do exactly that" Gersen once more considered his list.
"Do you know Feodor Diamant3"

"He is well known "

"He controls twenty shares Find him, buy his shares if possible.
If not, bring him here "

"As you say " Bartleman once more moved away

Gersen stepped across the plaza to Valt's Arbor and approached
the old man with the crooked nose "You are Lampeter3"

"I am that man Who are you, if not an iskish5"

"I am iskish, certainly As an idle pastime I collect worthless
securities- really no more than a whim. Do you have any use for
your Kotzash shares^"

"None whatever "

"In that case, perhaps you will give them to me If you prefer
I can make a token payment say, ten SVU for the batch "

Lampeter pulled at his nose and turned Gersen a broad gap-
toothed grin "It is my experience that when someone wants to buy,
the merchandise has value. I will sell at what they cost me, no less "

Gersen exhibited astonishment "That is totally unreasonable "

THEFAd 649

"We shall see If I collect, I am vindicated If not, I am no
worse off than before "

"Do you carry these shares on your person2"

"Naturally not, I considered them worthless until no\\ "

"Where are they3"

"In my dumble, )ust yonder "

"Let us go for them If you guarantee to say nothing of the
transaction, I'll pay you eighty-nine s\u "

"Eighty-nine svu^ That offer is almost insulting' You are try-
ing to cheat me of two thousand SVU'"

"Lampeter, observe me closely What do you see3"

Lampeter, who had already taken several pots of beer, inspected
Gersen with an unsteady vision "I see a green-eyed iskish, who is
either a sharper or else crazy "

"I prefer that you think of me as crazy Now ask yourself how
many times in the few scant years left to you will a crazy iskish
offer you money for worthless trasrr"

"Never again, I have no doubt That is why 1 must exploit this
particular occasion "

"On this particlar occasion, two SVU a share is the limit "

"Full value or nothing'"

Gersen made a signal of defeat "I'll pay quarter value, and that
is my best offer I am running low on cash "

Lampeter drank beer, then put down the iron pot and rose to
his feet "Come along with me I am being defrauded, but I can
waste no more time" He lurched off along a path which led
through the )ungle and halted beside the dark entrance into a dum-
ble "One moment " He entered, to emerge with a greasy envelope
"Here are the shares WTiere is the money3"

Gersen took the envelope, withdrew the certificates, and
counted eighty-nine shares "Good enough, come with me I don't
carry so much money on my person "

He led the way to the water well, along the boundary lane, then
out through the water to his Fantamic Fhtterwmg He unlocked
the port, motioned Lampeter up the ladder Lampeter looked at
him in suspicion "WTiere are you taking me3"

"Nowhere I can't pay you out here m the hot sun "

"Well, be swift My beer is going flat "

Gersen brought out the box of black sand he had taken from

1'HE D£ MON PRINCES

Bel Ruk at Jamile Wallow. "Eighty-nine shares at a quarter value
is two hundred twenty-three ounces."

In a grumbling voice Lampeter declared a preference for cash,
to which Gersen paid no heed. He weighed out 223 ounces of black
sand, which he poured into a canister and gave to Lampeter. "Con-
sider yourself a lucky man."

"I can't avoid curiosity. Why do you pay good black sand for
worthless trash that I was about to throw away^"

Gersen calculated. "I need at least two hundred forty-eight
more shares. Find them for me and I'll explain why I want them."

"You'll pay in black sand?"

"Not at quarter value. I don't have so much sand."

"I doubt if so many shares can be had at Dmkelstown. Still,
let's go back to Valt's Arbor. Bring the box. We'll see what can be
done. My rnend Jeus owns ten or twenty shares. Maybe he'll agree

to sell " '

"Bring your friend Jeus to the beer garden across the plaza,
where I now must return." Gersen took leave of Lampeter, and
re)omed Delfin. His couriers, between them, had taken up only
thirty-one additional shares, which Gersen took m hand. Bartleman,
however, had with him a short fat man with round black eyes and
a parrot-beak nose. "This is Fat Odo," said Bartleman. "He carries
fifteen shares of Kotzash."

"Well, sir, what is your price^" asked Gersen. "I have about all
I need for my purposes. Still, I'll listen to your offer."

"The price is printed on the certificates," said Odo.

"So is the signature ofOttile Panshaw. Both are a waste of ink."

"I won't sell; why should I be hoodwinked by an iskish? I am
no worse off than an hour ago; good-bye."

"Just a moment. Fifteen shares^ I'll pay a quarter value, no
more."

"Impossible."

"Good-bye; these are my terms."

"Oh well; pay half value. Today I will be generous."

Gersen finally settled for forty ounces of black sand, fust as
Lampeter brought up his friend Jeus, as old, gaunt, and drunk as
Lampeter himself. Lampeter pointed out Gersen with a grand
flourish- "There he sits, the crazy iskish who pays black sand for
Kotzash."

THE FACE

"Here are my shares," cried out Jeus. "There are eighteen only,
but pay me a hundred ounces, in all generosity!"

"The rate is somewhat less," said Gersen. "Twenty ounces for
the lot."

The bargaining attracted attention; soon Gersen was sur-
rounded with persons who either held a share or two and wanted
full redemption, or persons, now angry, who had already sold at
lesser prices. Gersen scraped the box clean of black sand, but ac-
quired only another forty-three shares. His total holdings now were
2,270 shares, with another 141 shares needed. The Darsh now
stood around him eagerly flourishing their shares, but Gersen could
only shake his head "I have no more sand and no more money,
until I cash a bank draft."

The asking prices began to descend. Gersen, now so near to
his goal, became correspondingly anxious. He turned to Delfin.
"Give me what money you have left."

"It is only five svu," said Delfin. "In view of the large sums
being thrown about, this is scanty payment for the day's work."

"Bartleman has thirty svu for which he has not accounted."

"Nor will he ever Go back to Bel Ruk for more money."

"I hardly dare. Already I have spent too much . . But that
gives me an idea. Write out this note- 'Prices are very high. Return
another two hundred SVU by the bearer. . . . Delfin.' "

Delfin somewhat dubiously wrote the note. The circumstances
were puzzling, but who was he to question the mad iskish2

"Now," said Gersen, "send it off to Bel Ruk, who will surely
send back the money."

"Hardous' Here a moment'" Delfin gave Hardous the note.
"Go to the hotel garden; there you will find a rachepol wearing a
white head sash with an emerald clasp. Give him this note. He will
pay over money which you are to bring here. Hurry!"

Gersen, now on tenterhooks, ran around the circle of those who
had been offering shares. He took as many of them as he could
reach. "Give me yours, and yours, and yours. Collect from Delfin
or meet me tonight at the hotel. Delfin knows me well; he will
vouch for me. Tomorrow you will be paid, or perhaps even tonight
if Bel Ruk provides the money."

Some of the shareholders numbly surrendered their shares; oth-
ers jerked back. Gersen could waste no more time. He beckoned

TUP: DEMON PRINCES

652

to Delfin. "Come along to the plaza; let us make sure that Bel Ruk
is on hand to pay the money."

They halted under the foliage, looked across to the hotel gar-
den, into which Hardous was just now entering. Bel Ruk sat in
obvious impatience at a central table. Hardous tendered him the
note; Bel Ruk snatched it open and read. For a moment he sat
silent, then heaved himself to his feet. He spoke to Hardous; the
two left the garden and set off across the plaza.

Gersen spoke soberly to Delfin: "I suspect that events are not
going well for Bel Ruk. He seems out of sorts. Avoid him. If he
sees you he will demand an accounting and what could you tell
him? Nothing. Keep your distance, and we'll all be the easier for

it."

Delfin said in a concerned voice: "There is a great deal here

which I don't understand."

"No doubt. But do as I say, and as soon as I cash a bank draft

you will profit."

Delfin again became moderately sanguine. "That is a gratifying

prospect, at least."

"Good. Then I am assured of your cooperation?"

"At every point of the circle."

The metaphor, so Gersen recognized, was abstracted from the
language ofhadaul and was not altogether reassuring. "I need—let
me count—another one hundred twenty shares, at least. Tonight I
want you to go everywhere. The news will be out; shares will cer-
tainly be offered to you: perhaps the entire one hundred twenty."

"Tonight? Not possible. Mirassou floats high; kitchets run the
desert and I run close behind."

"And who runs behind you?" asked Gersen.

"Ha-ha! I've been chased by some fast ones! Tonight is a night
to beware! Are you going out? Let me advise you. The kitchets
romp among the Chailles, but every shadow conceals a khoontz.
The less agile man, who is usually not quite so discriminating, goes
out on Differy Downs, but he often comes home stiff and surly,
because the kitchets have the upper hand and make their own

choices."

"I'll keep your advice in mind," said Gersen. "What of tomor-
row?"

"Tomorrow it's hadaul and that will occupy the day. Kotzash

must wait."

THE FACE

653

"Still, don't stand aside if Kotzash shares are offered. Take
them up on my account, and keep well clear of Bel Ruk; at the
moment he may well be annoyed with all of us."

Delfin again became subdued. "Behind your words I divine a
larger meaning. I will certainly avoid Bel Ruk. And now I wish you
good evening and a happy night on the desert."

Gersen went out to his Fantamic Flitterwing, where he counted
his shares and locked them into a cabinet. He changed from the
Darsh robes into loose gray trousers and a blouse striped in dark
green and black. He made sure of his weapons and sauntered back
under the parasol. The time was dusk; the water flow was quiet and
Dinkelstown lay open to the desert.

Gersen approached the hotel garden, and halted in the shadows
to take stock of those who sat at the tables: a dozen tourists, as
many Darsh of evident substance, a group of young Methlen, with
two older women of refinement and dignity.

From the hotel came Jerdian Chanseth wearing a soft white
gown. She passed close to where Gersen stood-He called out in a
quiet voice: "Jerdian! Jerdian Chanseth!"

Jerdian halted, looked wonderingly to where Gersen stood half
lounging against a tree. She paused, turned a quick glance toward
the Methlen group, then approached. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking at you, and grateful for the opportunity."

Jerdian made a mocking sound between her teeth. "Sssssss! You
are gallant in your phrases." She looked him up and down. "You
are more relaxed, more easy than the grim banker-swindler-space
wanderer of Serjeuz. You seem almost a young man."

"That can't be. I'm at least six years older than Aldo. Still, at
this moment, I don't feel at all grim."

"Why, at this moment?"

"Must I explain? I am standing here with you and I find you
bewitching."

"More gallantry!" Jerdian, despite a cool little laugh, seemed
not displeased. "Words are cheap. You already have a spouse and
a large family."

"Nothing of that sort whatever. I have no one but myself."

"How did you become a banker?"

"I bought the bank for a special purpose."

"But a bank costs money! Are you a wealthy criminal?"

"I'm certainly not a criminal. At least, not altogether."

THE DP VION PR1NC ES

"Then what are you, in all truth and candor2"

"A space wanderer is really the best description "

"Kirth Gersen, you take pleasure mystifying me, and I detest
secrets'" Then Jerdian added, m a voice dictated by her Methlen
training "Still, your secrets are no concern of mine "

"Quite right " Gersen looked away across the plaza, out upon
the dusky desert "In fact, I should not so much as talk to you I
succeed only in tantalizing myself"

Jerdian stared at him a minute, then uttered a sudden laugh
"What marvelous dramas you enact' The picaresque adventurer,
the banker who outswindles my father, the patrician in languid gar-
ments, and now the lovelorn boy, wistful and noble, renouncing his
love."

Gersen's own amusement was somewhat more constrained "I
don't recognize myself m any of these roles " A reckless mood came
over him, almost an intoxication "Come over here, where we'll be
secluded " He took her arm and led her to a table at the far dark
side of the garden She walked stiffly, half-resisting, and seated her-
self in a posture tentative and prim. She looked at Gersen coldly,
now all disdainful Methlen "I can only stay an instant, we are mak-
ing an excursion out on the desert, and I must help with the ar-
rangements "

"The desert is said to be beautiful by night Especially by
moonlight Are you walking?"

"Indeed not We have hired a charabanc Now I must go My
interest in your affairs is really most casual "

"Our feelings complement each other, since I didn't want to
tell you anything "

Jerdian made no move to rise "And why not2"

"You might tell someone else and cause me no end of trouble "

Jerdian scowled "So you think I prattle of everything I know
to my friends."

"Not necessarily But as you yourself point out, our interest is
casual, you might easily make an idle comment which eventually
would reach the wrong ears I'll take you to your friends " He rose
to his feet.

Jerdian perversely refused to move "Be so good as to sit down
In effect you are asking me to leave, which is far from flattering.
WTiere is your vaunted gallantry now2"

THE FACE

Gersen slowly resumed his seat "I vaunted no gallantry. I )ust
spoke impulsively "

"You show very little concern for my vanity," said Jerdun
crossly

"Your vanity is quite safe in my hands," said Gersen "May I
express myself frankly2"

Jerdian pondered a moment. "Well—there is no one here to
stop you."

Gersen leaned forward, took her two hands in his "The truth
is this I have a spaceship outside; I would like nothing better than
to take you away with me and make love to you across all the
constellations of the universe But I can't indulge myself even m
the speculation "

"Indeed2 And—again from idle curiosity—why not2"

"Because I have work to do which is urgent and dangerous "

Jerdian asked mischievously 'Would you give up your work if
I agreed to c-ome with you2"

"Don't even suggest such things, my heart stops beating when
I hear you."

"The gallantry is now back m full force "

Gersen bent forward across the table, Jerdian made no move to
draw back With their faces only inches apart, Gersen halted, then
drew abruptly back. He felt Jerdian's hands twitch in his

After a moment Gersen said, "If you recall, at Serjeuz, we spoke
of Lens Larque "

Jerdian regarded him with pupils dilated "He is the most evil
man alive'"

"You mentioned an unpleasant episode What happened2"

"It was nothing important, simply an incident We live in a
district known as Llalarkno One day a Darsh wanted to buy the
house next to ours My father is not partial to the Darsh, he hates
the smell of their food, he can't tolerate their music He cried out
m a passion 'Go away, leave this land' You may not buy the house
Do you think I want to look up every day to find your great Darsh
face hanging over my wall2 Be off with you''

"The Darsh walked away Later we learned that it was Lens
Larque himself "

"WTiat did he look like2"

"I hardly noticed I have the impression of a large man, with

IHF' DFMON PRINCES

656

long arms. He had a big smooth head with a black mustache. His
skin was brownish pink, pale Darsh color."

"You haven't seen him since7"

"Not to my knowledge."

"He never forgets a harm—so goes the Lens Larque legend—
and he is famous for clever tricks."

"He can trick as he pleases. We maintain a careful security,
because we are so close to Beyond But why are you interested m
Lens Larque5"

"I hope to destroy him. First I must find him. So I buy Kotzash
to attract his attention."

Jerdian stared at Gersen m awe and wonder. She started to
speak but a tall shape loomed over them. Aldo, his head tilted some-
what back, mouth set m an austere droop. He bowed jerkily to
Jerdian- "If you please, your aunt, the Excellent Mayness, is anxious
that you should )om her."

"Very well, I'll come at once."

Gersen spoke to Aldo. "You are planning an excursion out on
the desert."

"That is correct."

"Where are you planning to go7"

"We are visiting the Chailles." Aide's tone was now icy.
"Come, if you will, Jerdian."

Gersen said: "The Darsh, both male and female, will be out m

force."

"That is no concern to us, so long as they stay out of our sight."

"They may even cause you annoyance "

"We have hired a charabanc, the driver declares that there will
be no slightest inconvenience. In any event, we are Methlen, the
Darsh will keep their distance." He went to stand by Jerdian. Slowly
she rose to her feet and walked away like a somnambulist.

Gersen sat brooding for a time, then went out to his space-
boat. He paused beside the boarding ladder; he stood looking to
the east across the desert, where the rising moon already illumi-
nated the sky Small groups of people slipped out from under the
shade, riding vehicles, or going afoot, women and girls apart from
the youths and men. On a dilapidated air-buggy came Delfin with
three ot his comrades, wearing light robes and gay head-sashes
They passed close beside Gersen, who hailed them. Delfin brought

THE FACE

6(;7

the air-buggy to a bouncing halt. Gersen moved forward. "How
goes the evening7"

"So far very well."

"Have you located any more shares?"

"No. As you suggested, Bel Ruk is unhappy with today's events.
He intends to whip both you and me."

"First he must catch us," said Gersen. "Then he must raise his
whip."

"True. In any event, you will find no more Kotzash in Dm-
kelstown. Bel Ruk has ordained a great hadaul, to a prize of a thou-
sand SVTJ. The roblers* must challenge with either a hundred svu
or twenty shares of Kotzash. Needless to say, all remaining Kotzash
will go to finance the challenges."

"A pity," said Gersen.

"Still, you did your best and cleverly; you are a tnckish man.
But why do you keep us talking7 The kitchets are drinking moon-
light!"

One of his comrades added- "Along with every old swagbottom
of the Wale, as well."

"Look yonder'" cried Delfin in a voice of mirthful amazement.
"There go the constipated Methlen out to enjoy the moonlight'
Notice the man who drives the charabanc? That is Nobius, a trick-
ster as sly as yourself"

Gersen acknowledged the compliment. "Do you expect that
Nobius will trick the Methlen?"

Delfin made a jocular sign. "There is a tender kitchet named
Farrero, she is guarded by three enormous khoontzes. Nobius vows
that tonight he will take Farrero. How he will do this while driving
the Methlen charabanc remains to be seen' We must be off There
rises the Mirassou. Kitchets are running the sand and dreaming
delicious dreams' Hoy! Off we go' Cambousse** give us power'"

The buggy trundled off on soft wheels. Gersen turned to look
after the charabanc, already a dark blur far across the sand.

Uneasy and fretful, annoyed by his own conflicting urges, Ger-
sen watched the charabanc disappear. Methlen affairs were none of
his concern—except the comfort and dignity of a certain Jerdian

*Robleri, participants at a hadaul I he "rubles" are the concentric rings ot a hadaul field,
painted yellow, green and blue

**The s.itvr Cambousse Pittaugh the Sand sprite, and Leino the Grandmother are ele-
mentals of the Darsh mvtholog\

TIIL DFVION PRINCFS

Chanseth, toward whom he felt a whole range of emotions, pro-
tective and otherwise.

Well, there was no help for it. With a muttered curse, Gersen
climbed into the vessel, opened a side port, swung out davits, and
grounded the utility boat. He pulled a helmet over his head and
clamped a night-seeing panoptic to the visor. Into the side rack he
stowed a pair of weapons, then, stepping aboard, he took the boat
into the sky.

Mirassou floated free of the horizon a great silver-white disk,
subtle and serene, which nevertheless pro)ected an ardent force.
The Wale became a place where events otherwise unthinkable be-
came not only conceivable but reasonable. Gersen, as always, aware
of at least two levels of consciousness within his mind, was amused
to find himself no less susceptible to Mirassou than Delfin. ... He
slanted his boat somewhat to the south of the charabanc and drew
abreast at an altitude of a thousand feet. Pulling the panoptic down
over his eyes, he switched on the nocturnal phase, turned up the
magnification, the charabanc with its passengers seemed only yards
away. With splendid garments and moonlight-pale faces the Meth-
len seemed a company unreal: a troupe of Pierrots on a frivolous
escapade Gersen watched in fascination, half-sardonic, half-
envious. In all, ten Methlen rode the charabanc. Three young men
sat along the stern seat. Four girls, a pair of older women, and Aldo
occupied the side seats. Jerdian, frail and wan-seeming, sat far for-
ward, turned somewhat away from the others. Influenced perhaps
by Mirassou, Gersen felt a swelling of exhilaration for his own es-
capade on this moonlit night.

High in the front, on the coachman's bench, Nobius rode in a
comfortable slouch, occasionally glancing back at his passengers in
easy condescension. The older ladies, whenever they chanced to
notice him, became annoyed by what they conceived to be insolence
and made haughty gestures, signaling Nobius to mind his driving;

commands which Nobius totally ignored, to augment the antic
mood of the expedition.

Over the silken sands moved the charabanc. Ahead and some-
what to the side stood the Chailles. a decayed volcanic crag rising
from a shoal of ledges and outcrops. One of the older ladies gave
Nobius new instructions, signaling him to veer away from the
Chailles. Nobius gave obsequious acquiescence, twitching the con-
trols to change course, but as soon as the lady's attention was di-

THE FACE

659

verted, he swung the charabanc back toward the rocks. Scanning
the Chailles Gersen detected the flicker of white Darsh robes; other
folk had gone out to enjoy Mirassou.

The Methlen ladies once again noticed the proximity of the
Chailles, instantly and with vehemence they ordered Nobius to bear
away, and again Nobius politely complied with the order, only after
a moment cunningly veering the craft back to its original direction.
His destination seemed to be a rocky hummock perhaps twenty feet
high, standing free a few yards from the principal ledges. On top
of the hummock stood a kitchet, quiet and pensive, looking south
across the sands.

Nobius suddenly curved the charabanc smartly about, acceler-
ated, and drove it into the sandy avenue between the hummock and
the main ledges of the Chailles. The ladies expostulated sharply;

Nobius blandly paid them no heed, then suddenly pretended to
hear. Bringing the charabanc to a halt )ust under the hummock, he
turned in his seat as if the better to hear instructions.

The ladies spoke briskly and made agitated gesticulations,
which Nobius attentively acknowledged. He turned in his seat, but
now something had gone wrong with the machinery. The chara-
banc lurched forward a few yards, then halted even while Nobius
diligently worked switches and levers. At the stern of the charabanc
the three young men rose questiomngly up in their seats. Nobius
desisted from his efforts and sat wanly watching to the side.

Out from the shadows lurched three heavy figures in black
gowns. They ]umped forward; each seized one of the young Meth-
len men on the rear seat about his middle and carried him flailing
and squirming off into the darkness.

Nobius crouched and became tense. From the shadows under
the hummock came a fourth figure, even more massive than the
others. She )umped aboard the charabanc, seized Aldo, and despite
his shouts, carried him away.

Instantly Nobius bounded from the charabanc and up to the
top of the hummock. He seized the kitchet, led her down the far
side and off into the dunes.

Stunned by events, the Methlen ladies rose dumbfounded in
their seats. In the shadows and on the ledges was further motion;

the swirl of white robes, then a sudden rush to the charabanc and
aboard. The first to arrive seized the girls, and the next, less en-

THE DEMON PRINCES

660

thusiastically, possessed themselves of the chaperones, and all re-
treated to their preferred places.

The man who had seized Jerdian carried her out into the desert,
ignoring both her outcries and her blows. A hundred yards out
among the dunes he halted and lowered her to the sand. A flying
platform landed beside them. Gersen stepped off. Jerdian made a
sound of incredulous joy and relief.

The Darsh assumed an attitude of menace. "Be off with you; I
am about to entertain this kitchet."

Speaking no words, Gersen pointed a hand gun at the man's
feet and burnt the sand into a molten puddle. The Darsh jumped
back in fear and fury. Gersen lifted Jerdian to her feet and put her
aboard the boat; an instant later they were in the air, leaving the
disconsolate Darsh staring after them.

At no great altitude the boat drifted southward over the dunes,
Jerdian from time to time looking askance at Gersen. Presently she
said in a husky voice: "I'm grateful to you. ... I don't know what
else to say. . . . How did you happen to be so promptly to hand?"

"I saw you on the charabanc. The driver is notorious; I came
out to protect you from his tricks—even though you had not asked
me to watch over you."

"I'm glad that you did." Jerdian drew a deep sigh. She looked
back toward the black rocks, and made an odd sound, something
between a sob and a laugh. "My aunt Mayness and my aunt Eustacia
are back there. Can't we help them somehow?" Then by implica-
tion she answered her own question: "I suppose nothing too dread-
ful will happen."

"Whatever may happen, it's already in progress." Gersen re-
moved his helmet and placed it in a locker. He allowed the boat to
drift low, only thirty feet above the dunes. Jerdian leaned back in
the seat and looked off across the sand. She showed neither anxiety
nor any urgent desperation to be elsewhere. In a soft thoughtful
voice she said: "The desert is a very strange place by moonlight. It
gives off an enchantment like a dream place. . . . No surprise that
it works so much mischief."

"I'm very conscious of this," said Gersen. He put his arm
around her shoulders and drew her close. She looked up and went
limp against him; he kissed her, again and again.

The boat drifted low and grounded upon a sand dune. The two
sat quietly, looking out over the moonlit sand. Presently Jerdian

THE FACE 661

said, "I am unutterably surprised to find myself here with you. . . .
And yet, perhaps not really surprised.... I can't help thinking of
everyone's outrage. What will they say tomorrow? Will I be the
only one returning with my virtue intact?"

Gersen kissed her again. "Not necessarily."

Ten seconds passed. Then Jerdian said in a husky whisper: "But
I do have the option?"

"Yes indeed," said Gersen. "You have the option."

Jerdian stepped from the boat and walked a few feet out along
the dune. Gersen came to stand beside her. Presently she turned to
face him; again they embraced. Gersen spread the white Darsh
cloak down upon the sand, and on the ancient dunes of the Wale,
in the light of Mirassou, they became lovers.

The moon reached the zenith, and sank beyond. The night was
becoming old; slowly the magic was dying. Gersen took Jerdian
back to Dinkelstown, then returned to the charabanc. The four
young men, sullen and disheveled, stood to the side. One of the
chaperones and one of the girls sat silently in the charabanc. As
Gersen approached, the other chaperone appeared through a cleft
in the rocks. Wordlessly she climbed aboard the charabanc.

Gersen came forward; they looked at him with suspicious stares.
"I happened past and was able to help Jerdian Chanseth," said Ger-
sen. "She is back at the hotel, and you need not worry about her."

One of the older women, Aunt Mayness, said grimly: "We are
sufficiently worried about ourselves; we all have had beastly expe-
riences."

Aunt Eustacia said in a voice somewhat more moderate: "I sup-
pose that we must be philosophical. We have suffered outrage, but
no irreparable damage; let us be grateful at least to this extent."

"That is hardly my present emotion," snapped Aunt Mayness.
"I was set upon time after time by a gross beast smelling of beer
and that intolerable food."

"The man who attacked me also smelled poorly. Otherwise he
was almost courteous, if the word is at all appropriate."

"Eustacia, you are far too bland!"

"I am, most of all, tired. If Jerdian is back at Dinkelstown that
leaves only Millicent and Helen to be accounted for. Here they
come now, together. Let us leave this awful place."

THE DEMON PRINCES

662

"And what of our reputations?" cried Aunt Mayness in a brassy
voice. "We'll be the laughingstock of all Llalarkno!"
"Not if we bind ourselves to secrecy."
"How can we have these bestial Darsh punished if we hold our

tongues?"

Gersen interposed a remark. "I doubt if you will be able to
punish the Darsh. They assume that if you go out on the desert by
night, your purpose is procreation. The guilty party is your driver;

he played you a merry trick."

Aunt Eustacia said, "This is the sad truth, so we might as well
accept it. Let us just pretend nothing happened."

"This man knows! The Darsh know!"

"I'll say nothing," said Gersen. "The Darsh may make a few
jokes among themselves, but probably that's as far as it will go. One
of you men show some spirit! Drive the charabanc back to Din-

kelstown!"

Aldo grumbled: "If you'd been through what I have, you'd lack
spirit too. I'll not go into details."

"None of us is happy with the night's events," snapped Aunt
Mayness. "Now get up into the driver's seat and be brisk about it!
I am more than anxious for a bath."

11

From Games of the Galaxy, by Everett Wright: the chap-
ter entitled "Hadaul."

Hadaul like all good games is characterized by com-
plexity and the multiple levels upon which the game is
played.

The basic apparatus is simple: a field suitably delineated
and a certain number of players. The field is most often
painted upon the pavement of a plaza; occasionally it will
be constructed of carpet. There are many variations, but
here is a typical arrangement. A pedestal stands at the cen-
ter of a maroon disk. The pedestal can be of any configu-
ration, and customarily supports the prize money. The
diameter of the disk ranges from four to eight feet. Three
concentric rings, each ten feet in width, surround the disk.
These are known as "robles" and are painted (from in to
out) yellow, green, and blue. The area beyond the blue ring
is known as "limbo."

Any number of contestants, or "roblers," may partici-
pate, but usually the game starts with a maximum of twelve
and a minimum of four. Any more creates excessive con-
gestion; any less reduces the scope of that trickery which is
an essential element.

The rules are simple. The roblers take up positions
around the yellow roble. All now are "yellow roblers." As
the game starts they attempt to eject the other yellow rob-
lers into the green roble. Once thrust or thrown into the
green, a robler becomes "green" and may not return to

THE DEMON PRINCKS

yellow. He will now attempt to eject other green roblers
into the blue. A yellow robler may venture into the green
and return into yellow as a sanctuary; similarly a green roh-
ler may enter blue and return to the green, unless he is
ejected from blue bv a blue robler.

A game will sometimes end with one yellow robler, one
green robler, and one blue robler. Yellow may be disin-
clined to attack green or blue; green disinclined to attack
blue. At this stage no further play is possible. The game
halts and the three roblers share the prize in a 3-2-1 ratio,
yellow receiving the "3" or half share. Green or blue may
wager new sums equal to the yellow prize, and by this
means once again become yellow, a process which may con-
tinue until a single robler remains to claim the entire prize.
Rules in this regard vary from hadaul to hadaul. At times a
challenger may now propose a sum equal to the prize, the
previous winner may or may not decline the challenge, ac-
cording to local rules. Often the challenger may propose a
sum double the prize, which challenge must be accepted,
unless the winner has suffered broken bones, or other se-
rious disability. These challenge matches are often fought
with knives, staves, or, on occasion, whips. Not infrequently
a friendly hadaul ends with a corpse being carried off on a
litter. Referees monitor the play assisted by electronic de-
vices which signal crossings of the roble boundaries.

Conspiracy is an integral part of the game. Before the
game starts the various roblers form alliances of offense or
defense, which may or may not be honored. Tricks, crafty
betrayal, duplicity are considered natural adjuncts to the
game; it is surprising, therefore, to note how often the
tricked robler becomes indignant, even though he himself
might have been intending the same treachery.

Hadaul is a game of constant flux, constant surprise; no
one game is ever like another. Sometimes the contests are
jovial and good-natured, with everyone enjoying the tricks;

sometimes tempers are ignited by some flagrant act of fal-
sity, and blood is -wont to flow. The spectators wager among
themselves, or, at major hadauls, against mutualization
agencies. Each major shadestages several hadauls each year,

THE FACE

665

on the occasion of their festivals, and these hadauls are con-
sidered among the prime tourist spectacles of Dar Sai.

Gersen slept in his space vessel and awoke to find Cora halfway
up the sky. He lay still a few moments. Already the events of last
night had lost reality. What ofJerdian? No longer intoxicated by
the moonlight nor emotionally vulnerable by reason of her rescue,
how would she feel?

Gersen bathed and dressed, today in ordinary spaceman's gear.
He armed himself with care, not knowing what the day might bring.

He ran through the heat, under the water veil, and went to the
hotel garden. The Methlen were already at their table. Jerdian
turned him a quick half smile, and gave her fingers a secret flutter.
Gersen was reassured: she felt no regrets. The other Methlen paid
him no notice.

As Gersen made his breakfast, he watched the Methlen. The
young men were surly and taciturn. The women seemed more se-
rene, but spoke in measured voices. Only Jerdian showed good spir-
its, for which she received reproachful glances.

At last the group finished their meal. Jerdian crossed to Ger-
sen's table. He jumped to his feet. "Sit down with me."

"I don't dare. Everyone is a bit edgy, and Aunt Mayness has
her suspicions. I'm not worried, since with her they are automatic."

"When can I see you? Tonight?"

Jerdian shook her head. "We're staying for the hadaul, because
that's why we came; then we'll fly back to Serjeuz and tomorrow
over to Llalarkno."

"Then I'll visit you at Llalarkno."

Jerdian smiled wistfully and gave her head a shake. "Everything
is so different in Llalarkno."

"Will you feel differently?"

"I don't know. It would be better if I did. Right now I'm in
love with you; I've thought of you all night and all this morning."

After a moment Gersen said: "I notice that you say 'I'm in love
with you,' rather than 'I love you.' "

Jerdian laughed. "You are very perceptive. There is a distinc-
tion. I love something; I'm sure of that. Perhaps it's you; perhaps—
who knows what?" She searched his face. "Are you offended?"

"It's not exactly what I'd like to hear. Still—I often wonder

THK DEMON PRINCES

666

about myself. Am I a man? Or a motivated mechanism? Or an
absurd distorted idea?"

Jerdian laughed again. "There's no question in my mind; you
are quite delinitely a man."

"Jerdian!" called Aunt Mayness in a cold voice. "Come along;

we are going to the grandstand."

Jerdian gave Gersen a wan smile and walked away. Gersen
watched her go, an ache at the base of his throat. Foolishness, he
told himself; sophomoric nonsense! He was languishing like a
schoolboy! He could allow himself no emotional attachments until
the work which obsessed his life was done! . .. He followed the
Methlen to the center of the plaza, where now a crowd milled
around the robles.

The hadaul was about to start; the most characteristic of all
Darsh spectacles, an activity somewhere between a game and a gang
fight,given savor by tricks, broken faith, and opportunism: in short,
a microcosm of Darsh society.

To make convenient provision for spectators was a concept for-
eign to Darsh philosophy. Those who cared to watch were forced
either to use the makeshift grandstands, to perch upon the sur-
rounding structures, or to crowd close to the fence which sur-
rounded the robles.

On a post hung a set of boards listing participants in the various
hadauls. Gersen could not read the looping Darsh script. He ap-
proached the registration booth and attracted the clerk's attention.
"Which is Bel Ruk's hadaul?"

"That would be the third round." The official tapped one of
the placards. "The challenge is a hundred sw, or twenty-five Kot-

zash shares."

"How many challenges have been made?"

"So far nine."

"How much Kotzash?"

"A hundred shares."

Not enough, thought Gersen. He needed at least 120 shares.
He looked in distaste toward the robles and the grandstands
crowded with white-robed Darsh. Fastidiously aloof, in a section
reserved for tourists, sat the Methlen. Gersen gave a fatalistic shrug.
The game was strange to him; the Darsh would be quick to take
advantage of an iskish. Still, a hundred shares would bring him close
to control of the company. He paid over the last of his money: a

THE FACE

667

single hundred-SVU certificate. "Here is mv challenge; for Bel Ruk's
hadaul."

The clerk drew back incredulously. "You intend to compete in
the robles? Sir, you are iskish and I only tell you for good nature,
but you are risking broken bones; there are strong and notorious
trickers going into Bel Ruk's hadaul."

"It will be an interesting experience. Does Bel Ruk himself take
part?"

"He has guaranteed a thousand-svu prize, but he will not fight.
If the challenges exceed a thousand SW he will profit."

"But the Kotzash shares are part of the prize?"

"Exactly so; the challenges, including the shares, go on the
prize board."

"Then put my name on the placard."

"As you wish. The bone-setters sit under yonder red nag."

Gersen found a vantage where he could look over the field. The
roblers for the first turn had now appeared: twelve young men
wearing correct hadaul attire: short trousers of white canvas, a sin-
glet of brown, gray, or pale red, cloth slippers, a head-cloth, tied
so as to gather up dangling earlobes. The roblers walked around
the periphery of the blue, pausing to talk together, sometimes con-
fidentially, mouth to ear; sometimes exchanging no more than a
jocular word. Occasionally small groups formed to listen while tac-
tical theories were expounded. Another robler might join such a
group to hear plots not to his liking, whereupon an^ry words would
be exchanged, and on one occasion a small scuffle.

From a nearby dumble came the referees: four old men wearing
embroidered red-and-black vests. Each carried a six-foot wand ter-
minating in a puff-ejector. The chief referee additionally bore a
glass bowl containing the prize—in this case, a sheaf of SVU certif-
icates. He went to the central disk and placed the prize upon the
pedestal.

The referees took up their positions. The chief referee struck
upon his chest-gong with a heavy metal thimble; the contestants
desisted from their conversations and ranged themselves around the
yellow roble.

The chief referee spoke: "I now command an ordinary hadaul
of craft and force, a ban upon all wields and weapons, and a pri/e
of one hundred SVU vouchsafed by the trustworthy Luke Lamaras.
I now ring the seventeen-second bell." He rapped his chest-gong;

THE DEMON PRINCES

668

the players began a restless shuffling motion, sidling to positions
from which they hoped to gain advantage.

Again the chief struck a tone from his chest-gong. "Six sec-
onds."

The players crouched, darted glances right and left, extended
their arms in formalized postures.

Two sharp tones from the chest-gong. "Play!"

The players moved to the contest, some fast, some deliberate.
Some would attempt pre-agreed stratagems; others would betray
the same. Three converged on one massive man to hurtle him into
the green. In a rage he dragged one with him and swung him danc-
ing across and into the blue. The referees at once used their wands
to mark the two with colored fluffs.

Wrestling, butting, tripping, hurdling: one by one the players
were ejected from yellow into green, from green into blue, from
blue into limbo and away from the game. Some players used agility,
others massive strength. A favorite ploy, running around the robles
to attack an adversary from the back, kept the game in constant
motion. In general the game seemed good-humored; the players
chortled at a clever thrust or a particularly stealthy attack from the
rear, but as fewer and fewer players remained in the robles, and the
prospect of winning the prize became ever more possible, the mood
became more intense. Faces became strained and corded; lunges
verged on the ferocious; two players in the blue began to exchange
blows. As they struck out at each other a third player darted out of
the green and thrust both into limbo. The combatants continued
to flail away at each other—not too skillfully, so Gersen noticed—
until a referee ordered cessation, on the grounds that they dis-
tracted attention from the hadaul.

Finally there remained a single player in the green and a larger,
heavier player in the blue. Green ran along the boundary, feinting
and dodging, while blue limped back and forth pretending pain,
fatigue, and despair. Green, however, thought better of venturing
into the blue, preferring a certain three-fifths of the prize to the
strong possibility of none. Blue at last began to hurl taunts, hoping
to infuriate green into recklessness. Green stood stock-still, consid-
ered a careful moment, then turned to the chief referee as if about
to request termination of play. Blue turned away in disgust; in-
stantly green lunged at his back, to thrust him into limbo. The chief
referee struck three tones on his gong, terminating the game, and

THE FACE

669

the entire prize went to that resourceful robler who had deceived
his opponent.

The basic theory of the game was simple, Gersen decided. Flex-
ibility, vigilance, and a wide field of vision were almost as important
as strength and weight. The thrusts, twists, throws, and pushes
showed him nothing new; if he could avoid the concerted effort of
four or five adversaries he felt that his chances were at least fair.
He went to the referees' hut, where he discovered that his costume,
while eccentric and sub-standard, could not be judged illegal, except
for his boots. One of the referees, rummaging in a box, discovered
a pair of dirty old slippers, which Gersen fatalistically strapped to
his feet.

Returning outside, Gersen saw Bel Ruk at the registration desk.
He seemed angry and agitated; Gersen deduced that he had looked
down the list of roblers and there had seen the name Kirth Gersen.

Bel Ruk moved aside and spoke to a tall strong man in robler's
costume: a conversation, reflected Gersen, which undoubtedly con-
cerned himself.

The second game, for a prize of two thousand SVU, went with
considerably more zeal and less joviality than the first. The victor
was a certain Dadexis; a middle-aged man, thin, sinewy, and wick-
edly clever. He was immediately challenged by a frustrated young
robler who had been ejected early in the bout. Dadexis, now with
the option of weapons, chose afflocks, that implement with the
pronged ball at the end of an elastic thong, which pleased the chal-
lenger not at all, but which he must now use or forfeit his challenge
stake.

The spectators rose to their feet and pressed so close to the
robles that the referees decreed an empty periphery around the field
of play. The chief referee rang his gong; the contestants took up
their positions and the challenge match proceeded. The bout was
short and devoid of either blood, pain or drama, to the annoyance
of the spectators. The canny Dadexis, in a practice flourish, swung
his afflock with such frightening skill that the challenger became
suddenly gloomy. The contest started; Dadexis sidled and dodged,
easily avoiding the effect of his opponent's weapon, then snapped
out his own thong. The ball curled around thehaft of the other's
afflock; Dadexis jerked and the challenger was bereft. Dadexis
grinned, flourished his afflock around the field and at four gong

THE DPMON PRINCES

670

tones from the referee went to pick up his now augmented prize,
while the challenger walked away

Gersen looked toward the grandstand, and discovered Jerdian
She had risen to her feet with the others, the better to observe the
challenge bout, now she settled in her seat between her aunt May-
ness and Aldo What would she think to see him thrusting and
bumping, slinking, sliding and lunging, in the robles with the
Darsh5

At the very least, mused Gersen, she would be perplexed

The contestants for the third hadaul gathered around the field,
among them, so Gersen noted, that man whom he had noticed with
Eel Ruk

The chief referee spoke into his microphone. "A hadaul of one
thousand SVTJ guaranteed by the generous Bel Ruk' Eleven contes-
tants have challenged with six hundred SVL and one hundred
twenty-five shares of Kotzash. They include experts from several
clans and even an iskish "

Feeling slightly ridiculous Gersen went out to join the others
around the robles One hundred twenty-five shares' If he won the
hadaul he won Kotzash Mutual Syndicate

At once a stocky round-faced man came to consult with him
"Have you ever played hadaul before5"

"No," said Gersen "I expect I have a lot to learn "

"Too true Well, let's arrange a compact I am Rudo You, I,
and Slash yonder are undoubtedly the three weakest players here.
If we work together we can cut down the odds "

"Good idea," said Gersen "WTio is the strongest5"

"Throngarro yonder"—this was Bel Ruk's confidant—"and
Mize, the great heavy man "

"Let's first eject Throngarro, then Mi?e "

"Agreed' Easier said than done, of course Our pact holds until
these two are ejected "

Gersen, now entering into the spirit of the game, looked around
for other possible allies Pie was again approached, by a stalwart
young man who exuded that reckless swaggering manner known as
plambosh "You are Gersen5 I am Chalcone You won't win, of
course, nor will I, but let's ally ourselves against Furbil yonder He's
rude and vicious and best ejected early "

"Why not5" said Gersen "I'd also like to eject Throngarro,
I'm told he's dangerous "

THE FACE

671

"True enough Furbil, then Throngarro, and we guard each
other at least until the green, or even blue, agreed5"

"Agreed "

"Then here's how we thrust Furbil. You feint him from the
side, when he turns to deal with you I'll leg him from the rear, you
push and he's tumbled "

"Sound tactics," said Gersen "I'll do my best "

A moment or two later Furbil came to confer with Gersen
"You're the iskish5 Well, good luck to you But you'll want more
than luck I suggest that we work in duo "

"I'm agreeable to anything that will keep me in the game."

"Good See that young chap yonder5 That's Chalcone, an in-
solent rascal, but quick and deft. Here's how we'll ditch him From
opposite sides we'll close on him, you drop in front of him, I'll
swing him and away he goes, halfway into the stands "

"First, Throngarro," said Gersen. "He's the most threatening
of the group."

"Oh very well, Throngarro first, with the same tactics, then
Chalcone "

"If we're still in the robles "

"No fear there So long as we work together'"

Three more contestants approached Gersen, suggesting ploys
and cooperations of various kinds, to which Gersen gave a general
acquiescence, on the theory that any advantage was better than no
advantage whatever

Among the spectators he glimpsed Bel Ruk, and for an instant
met his baleful glare Gersen also took occasion to glance toward
the Methlen, to find Jerdian watching him in total bewilderment.

The chief referee marched to the central pedestal and there
arranged the challenges packets of svu certificates and folded Kot-
zash shares.

The chief referee pounded his chest-gong "Contestants as-
sume your positions!"

The eleven men moved into the yellow roble
A gong "I call thirty-one seconds'"

The contestants began to move here and there, hoping to
achieve favorable angles of attack against those adversaries they
considered the most critically dangerous

Another gong "I call seventeen seconds'"

THE DEMON PRINCES

672

The contestants crouched, looked right and left, hopped warily
away from obvious thrusts.

"Six seconds'."

Then: "Play hadaul!"

Eleven men created a swirl of motion. Gersen, noticing Thron-
garro sidling purposefully toward him, moved away. Behind Thron-
garro appeared Chalcone. He caught Gersen's eye, made a sign,
and thrust at Throngarro, who turned to fend off the attack. Gersen
moved in, thrust, and Throngarro was greened. "Now Furbil!" ex-
claimed Chalcone. "Remember our compact! You make the feint.
There he is; quick now!"

Gersen obligingly feinted at Furbil, who recoiled against Chal-
cone, who seized his arm and attempted to swing him into green.
Furbil deftly retained his footing, and using their joint movement
greened Chalcone. Gersen came behind, thrust, and Furbil also
stumbled into the green. At the same instant a massive force struck
Gersen from the side: the vast bulk of Mize, whose methods were
brutally simple; he merely walked around the yellow, shouldering
everyone he met into green. By sheer luck Gersen chanced to catch
hold of Skish backing away from another adversary; by greening
Skish, Gersen retained his balance and remained in the yellow. Ger-
sen signaled to Rudo and indicated Mize. Sensing the joint attack,
Mize put his back to the center table, swung his great arms in
menacing circles. "Come at me then, if you dare!"

Gersen seized one of the arms and was almost jerked from his
feet. At the same time Rudo, his erstwhile ally, seized him around
the waist from behind and attempted to hustle him from the yellow.
Gersen jerked his head back into Rudo's nose. He broke the grip
and dived behind the great bulk of Mize. Here he put his back to
the pedestal, raised his feet, thrust, and sent Mize lurching toward
the green, into which he was assisted by Rudo, his nose streaming
red. Furious and roaring Mize charged at Throngarro, who nimbly
gave way. Four of the green roblers seized on various parts of Mize:

lurching, dancing, cursing, roaring he was thrust through blue to-
ward limbo, but threw himself backward, kicked, and so escaped,

Gersen stood back to assess the situation. Throngarro and
Mize, the two most formidable adversaries, had been ejected from
yellow, where he remained with four others. Each of the five, with
Throngarro and Mize ejected, could now realistically envision vic-
tory, and so became correspondingly more cautious. There were

THE FACE

673

no more alliances either to be honored or betrayed; each man was
reluctant to commit himself for fear of attack from the rear.

Gersen noticed that the other roblers were regarding him with
wary respect. An iskish who had survived so long must be a man to
take seriously.

From the corner of his eye Gersen saw Rudo and a certain
Hement exchange a few words; then Rudo sidled toward Gersen.
"Does our compact still hold?"

"Of course," said Gersen.

"Then Dexter is next, the tall squint-eyed man. You come at
him from the side, I'll pass him and catch him in a crotch constric-
tor, and out he goes. On the ready!"

Gersen, as instructed, sidled toward Dexter, at the same time
watching Hement. Just as he came within arm's length of Dexter,
Hement lunged toward him, as did Dexter, and smartly from be-
hind, his erstwhile ally Rudo. Gersen had been expecting the ploy.
He pulled Dexter into Hement, threw Rudo head over heels into
the green, then seizing Dexter's leg, heaved him into the green just
as a flying body struck him from behind. Gersen bent, reached over
his head, jerked and his assailant toppled on top of Dexter in the
green. As they staggered erect, both were seized and blued. Hement
somewhat tentatively seized Gersen's arm and tried to swing him;

Gersen hacked, feinted, reached, heaved. Hement hurtled into the
green, and Gersen was now left alone in the yellow save for a single
other: a bulky young man who had retained yellow principally by
staying out of everyone else's way. Gersen advanced upon him; he
retreated. Gersen stalked him around the ring once, then twice,
whereupon the young robler could retreat no further: to be chased
three times around the ring meant automatic ejection into the next
roble. Warily the two came together. Gersen extended his arm; the
other gingerly took his wrist, essayed a pull. Gersen fell forward,
applied an armlock, swung the young man around, and marched
him hopping and squirming to the green.

Gersen was now alone in the yellow. He might, if he chose,
venture into green, or even blue, and still return to yellow—unless
in the green he were forcibly ejected into blue, or, in the blue,
thrust into limbo. But he felt no interest in participating in green
or blue contests, where theroblers, now anxious and angry, had
abandoned temperate conduct. They struck, kicked, butted, and
kneed with gasping, roaring, cursing abandon. Gersen leaned

THE DEMON PRINCES

674

against the pedestal and watched the activity. Throngarro, in blue,
had come to grips with Rudo Gersen watched Throngarro's tactics
with interest, he was undoubtedly a skillful fighter quick, strong,
and resourceful. He was still no match for Mize, whose sheer bulk
made him almost impregnable At the thought of facing Mize one
to one, Gersen grimaced He probably would win, by striking and
hacking, and attempting to close Mize's eye, but he would surely
suffer sprains and bruises, possibly broken bones, or even a broken
neck

Throngarro had e)ected Rudo, he now gave his attention to
Mize Forming a cabal with a pair of other blues, he attacked Mize.
The three men were )erked around like ants on a beetle Finally,
more by luck than design, they caused Mize to stumble into limbo,
where he flung himself prone and beat the ground with his fists.
Throngarro meanwhile took advantage of the situation to thrust
out the two who had assisted him with Mize

Gersen glanced around the ring of spectators He encountered
Bel Ruk's baleful glare, and let his gaze swing past He looked
toward the Methlen and for a flickering instant caught Jerdian's
eye, he could not read her expression Her aunt Mayness called to
her and Jerdian looked away.

The hadaul reached a static level In blue stood Throngarro, in
the green Chalcone and in the yellow Gersen If the hadaul, as of
now, terminated, the prize would be divided 3-2-1

Gersen spoke to Throngarro and Chalcone "I'll take the Kot-
zash shares; you two can divide the money six hundred SVU Is this
agreeable to you both^'

Chalcone calculated. "I agree."

Throngarro started to speak, then looked back at Bel Ruk, who
gave his head a stern shake Throngarro reluctantly said, "No, the
whole prize must be shared out."

Gersen signaled Chalcone up close to the yellow-green bound-
ary. "Let's make a compact, which I guarantee to honor, if you will
make the same guarantee "

"What do you have in mind3"

"Let us both go into blue and eject Throngarro, then I will
return to yellow and you to green. I will take the Kotzash and you
can take the money, all six hundred SVU "

"I agree to this compact"

"Mind you," said Gersen, "this is a contract of honor, not a

FHE r4CL

hadaul ploy If\ou break }our promise 1 will take the matter most
seriously You can trust me, can I trust you^"

'Tor this single occasion, \es."

"Very well You go in on the left, I on the right, ^ith an arm's
length between us and we will push him out backwards "

'Agreed "

With no more ado Gersen stepped into the green, then into
blue, with Chalcone beside him 1'hrongarro waited in a crouch
Conceiving his best hope lay in attack, he sprang out at Chalcone,
hoping to tackle him around the middle and hurl him around and
run him out into limbo Gersen hooked his arm, whereupon Chal-
cone seized the other arm Gersen kicked the back of Throngarro's
knees, Throngarro collapsed, but as he did so kicked Chalcone in
the groin and Chalcone went down, bent double Throngarro
kicked at Gersen, who seized Ihrongarro's ankle and twisted,
Throngarro screamed as the ligaments tore He struggled to roll
over and away, Gersen turned the ankle again Throngarro was
forced to roll once again, up to the \ery edge of limbo, where m a
frenzy he struggled and lurched Lashing out with his free foot he
kicked Gersen in the side Gersen turned the ankle again, Thron-
garro, screaming in despair, rolled out into limbo

Gersen stood back panting Chalcone had gained his feet but
stood crouched in pain, pressing at his lower abdomen I he two
considered each other, Chalcone with glazed eyes Gersen returned
into yellow and Chalcone hobbled back into ^recn Gersen called
to the chief referee "Give me the Kotzash shares, grve Chalcone
the money, and the hadaul is ended "

Fhe chief reteree asked Chalcone "Are you agreed to this di-
vision3"

"Yes. T am more than satisfied "

"So, let it be " He spoke into his microphone "For the first
time m my recollection and perhaps m all the annals of our glorious
game, an iskish has won at a ma|or game, in combat against the
best ofDar Sai I now call out tor challenges, does anyone challenge
the victory of this redoubtable iskish^'

Bel Ruk stood talking furiously to I hrongarro, who sat on a
bench, his sprained ankle already swollen Lhron^arro merely
shook his head Bel Ruk savagely turned away "I challenge'" he
shouted hoarsely "It is I, Bel Ruk, and we shall fight with whips "

"Weapons are at the option of the challenged, as well you

676 TH£ DEMON PRINCES

know," said the chief referee. "Do you challenge both Chalcone
and Gersen^"

"No, I challenge Gersen alone."

The chief referee gave the S\TJ certificates to Chalcone. "Go
in pride h-om this hadaul'"

"I do so, and I give honor to Gersen, who plays with great
skill " Chalcone took the money and hobbled gratefully off the
field.

Bel Ruk marched forward. He gave the referee two SVU. "Here
is double the value of one hundred twenty-five shares of Kotzash,
which are known to be worthless."

The referee stood back in disapproval. "You yourself placed a
value upon these shares of four SVU each'"

"By no means' I guaranteed a prize of a thousand SVU; I agreed
to allow twenty-five shares to represent a hundred SVU. If Gersen
wishes to surrender the one hundred twenty-five shares to me, I
will pay him five hundred SVU. Otherwise he will lose his life, as I
will kill him if he opposes me."

"You take a stern attitude," said the referee. "Well, Gersen,
what is it to be5 Bel Ruk is challenging your Kotzash and your life
and all it costs him is a misery two SVU. If you wish to withdraw,
evidently Bel Ruk will pay you five hundred SVU for your Kotzash,
and you will have spent a profitable day. I must inform you that
Bel Ruk is notoriously skillful with his whips and weapons; your
chances are not at all good. Still, you may specify which weapons,
if any, are to be used."

Gersen shrugged "If I must fight him, I will use either knives
or bare hands, as he wishes."

"Knives'" cried Bel Ruk. "I will undertake to cut him apart."

One of the referees tendered a tray in which rested a pair of
daggers, with black wooden grips and double-edged blades almost
a foot long.

Gersen took one of the knives and hefted it. The blade, a long
thin triangle, broad at the grip, made for a lack of that balance
which Gersen preferred, still, he decided, it would do well enough;

certainly it was not a weapon designed to be thrown, which implied
the absence of such skill among the Darsh. He looked up in the
stands, to find an expression of fascinated horror onJerdian's face.

The chief referee spoke: "The bout will be fought within the
robles, and will continue until one of the parties m contention in-

THE F4(. I

677

dicates surrender, either by throwing up his hands, or by crying
out, or by vacating the robles, or until he is unable to proceed, or
until I cry a halt The bout will be tree, there are neither regulations
nor limitations You may take up positions in the yellow, on op-
posite sides of the pedestal The bout will begin at the fourth gong-
strike and continue until I intervene, when it must come to an
instant halt, on pain of three days in the cesspit. So guard your
ardor and stop fighting at my command, since I will have no lei-
surely carving up of a disabled man." These words were accom-
panied by a meaningful glance toward Bel Ruk. "Three retreating
or pursued circuits of the pedestal also constitute surrender. I now
sound the thirty-one second gong Take your places."

Gersen and Bel Ruk faced each other across the pedestal.

"Seventeen seconds."

Bel Ruk waved his blade back and forth, en)oying the feel of
death. "I have been waiting for this occasion "

"I am not averse to it," said Gersen "Tell me, did you go out
on the Mount Pleasant raid5"

"Mount Pleasant5 That was long ago."

"So you were there."

Bel Ruk's only response was a cold grin.

"I can now kill you without compunction," said Gersen.

"Six seconds' Gentlemen, flourish your weapons' At the next
gong-strike, make your engagement'"

The seconds marched past, traversing that mysterious boundary
which separates future from past.

The gong sounded.

Bel Ruk advanced around the pedestal, kmf-e low and held as if
it were a sword. Gersen waited in a slouch, then threw the knife at
Bel Ruk's heart. The blade skimmed fair to its target, struck with
metallic clink, rebounded, and fell to the ground. Bel Ruk evidently
wore a vest of dympnet sequins under his singlet. The referee made
no protest; apparently the vest was considered a legal accessory

As soon as the knife struck the ground, Bel Ruk kicked it toward
limbo; simultaneously Gersen sprang forward and Bel Ruk's atten-
tion was diverted The knife slid to a halt )ust inches inside the
blue

Bel Ruk thrust- Gersen ducked sideways to the left and hacked
with his hand at the side of the burly neck and punched at Bel
Ruk's left eye Bel Ruk hacked at Gersen's ribs- the blade cut

678 IHF DPMON PRINCES

through his blouse and laid open six inches ot skin: blood oo?ed
forth.

In a rage Gersen caught Bel Ruk's arm, applied a lock, tripped
Bel Ruk, and using Bel Ruk's own momentum broke the elbow
joint.

Bel Ruk gave a grunt; the knife dropped from his limp fingers.
But he groped with his left hand, seized the haft, and cut up back-
wards, plunging the knife into Gersen's thigh. Gersen stood back
aghast. Had he become so clumsy5 He now bled from two wounds;

he would soon go limp and weak, and then he would be killed. ..
Not yet' He hacked at Bel Ruk's neck once again. As Bel Ruk
attempted to break away and stab, Gersen caught Bel Ruk's left
arm, but could not apply a lock. Bel Ruk |erked away, to stand
panting, his right arm limp, his left eye almost closed.

Bleeding from ribs and thigh, Gersen limped over to his knife.
Bel Ruk rushed after, dagger held high for a downward thrust. Ger-
sen caught the upraised arm, then reached down to catch Bel Ruk's
knee as it )erked up toward his crotch. He heaved; Bel Ruk tottered
back, and Gersen retrieved his knife Bel Ruk, mouth open, nostrils
distended, eyes bruised, came staggering forward. Gersen threw the
knife a second time. it plunged almost to the hilt into Bel Ruk's
corded neck. Bel Ruk fell to his knees, and with a final effort, almost
a reflex, threw his knife at Gersen. The point dropped; the edge
cut Gersen's hip. Bel Ruk sagged forward and the weight of his
body drove the dagger entirely through his neck, and the point
issued six inches from the nape.

"I declare the hadaul ended!" called the referee. "Gersen is the
winner, his prize is one hundred twenty-five shares of Kotzash and
two SVL."

Gersen took the certificates and staggered from the robles. A
surgeon led him to a nearby dumble and attended to his wounds.

One hundred twenty-five shares of Kotzash' Gersen now owned
2,416 shares, 6 over half. He controlled Kotzash Mutual.

Gersen emerged from the dumble to find that Bel Ruk's corpse
had been carried away He looked up into the stands. The Methlen
had departed, apparently having seen enough

Gersen limped away from the area, and out to his spaceship.
He climbed aboard, secured the hatches, took the vessel into the
air and east toward Ser)euz.

7 HE FACE 679

Gersen spent the night in his spaceship, drifting over the desert. In
the morning he landed beside the Serjeuz water veils. Impelled by
caprice he dressed in loose trousers of black twill, a white linen
blouse, and a dark green sash: the costume that a wealthy young
aristocrat of Avente on Alphanor might wear on a promenade. He
hobbled through the morning sunlight, under the water veils, then
out upon the plaza. The garden at the Sfennde Select was almost
untenanred. At the Traveler's Inn a few early tourists sat at break-
fast.

Gersen went into the lobby. At a telephone he called the Sfer-
inde Select and asked to be connected to Mistress Jerdian Chanseth.
Presently her soft voice came from the speaker. "Yes7 Who is it7"

"Kirth Gersen."

"Wait a moment, while I close the door. .. . Kirth Gersen!
Why did you do what you did? Everyone believes you insane!"

"I needed a hundred and twenty more shares of Kotzash. Now
I control the company."

"But the risks you took'"

"I couldn't avoid them. Were you worried for me7"

"Of course' My heart was in my throat. I didn't want to watch,
but I couldn't not watch. Everyone says that Bel Ruk was a noto-
rious assassin, extremely skilled with weapons. They think that you
must be the same."

"That's not the case. Can I see you^"

"I don't know how. We're leaving for Llalarkno at once and
Aunt Mayness is with me every moment. She's certain already that
something is wrong with me. . . Where are you7 At the Traveler's
Inn?"

"Yes."

"I'll come across; I can risk fifteen minutes."

"I'll meet you in the garden, where we sat before."

"WTiere I first decided that I was in love with you. Do you
remember7"

"I remember."

"I'll be right there."

Gersen went out to the garden. Two minutes later Jerdian ap-
peared. She wore the same dark green gown in which he first had
seen her. He rose to his feet; she came into his arms and they kissed-
once, twice, three times. "This is so pointless," said Jerdian. "This
is the last time I'll ever see you."

680 THE DEMON PRINCES

"So I tell myself. But I find it hard to make myself believe it."

"Somehow you must find a way." Jerdian looked over her
shoulder. "I'd be in disgrace if I were found here with you."

Gersen was a trifle nettled by the remark. "Would you mind
so very much?"

"Well—yes. At Llalarkno we maintain very exact images."

"What if I came to Llalarkno?"

Jerdian shook her head. "Our world is small. Everyone knows
everyone else, and we must live up to expectations. It makes for a
happy existence—usually."

For a long minute Gersen looked at her. Then he said: "If I
could offer you a happy serene life I wouldn't listen. But I can't
assure you of anything but anxiety, travel to strange uncomfortable
places, and perhaps danger. . . . Not in the foreseeable future. . . .
So, good-bye."

Tears welled up inJerdian's eyes. "I can't abide that word; it's
like death. . . . Sometimes I wish you'd just carry me to your ship
and fly away with me. I'd not resist, or cry out; I'd be thrilled with
happiness!"

"It would be wonderful for a while. But I can't do it. I'd only
bring you grief."

Jerdian rose to her feet, blinking against the tears. "I must go."

Gersen stood up but made no move toward her. She hesitated,
then came to him and kissed his cheek. "I'll never forget you." She
turned and walked from the garden.

Gersen sat back in his chair. The episode was finished. He
would forget Jerdian Chanseth as quickly and as thoroughly as pos-
sible. He was now in a hurry. Panshaw still would not know of Bel
Ruk's death, nor of Gersen's new status as Kotzash majority stock-
holder. He used one of the two SVU he had won from Bel Ruk to
buy his breakfast, then returned to his ship. Into a case he packed
a set of tools, then limped hurriedly to Dindar House, under Skan-
sel Shade. He went directly to Panshaw's office.

As before the door was locked. Gersen brought tools from his
bag, cut the lock free, and thrust open the door, careless of any
alarm which might be set off. With Ottile Panshaw off-planet and
Bel Ruk dead, there might be no one to heed such an alarm. He
entered the room, which as before smelled stale and rancid.

He heard hurrying footsteps in the hall. Two men looked

THE FACE

681

through the door. Gersen gave them a cool inspection. "WT-io are
you and what do you want here?"

One of the men said sharply: "I am manager of this building.
Mr. Bel Ruk has asked me to keep a lookout against intruders. How
dare you break into this office?"

"I control Kotzash Mutual. This office is my responsibility; it
is my right to enter and do as I like, with or without a key."

"Bel Ruk said nothing to me of this."

"Nor will he ever. Bel Ruk is dead."

The manager's face became grave. "That is sad news."

"Not for any honest man. Bel Ruk was a scoundrel. He de-
served worse than he got. Now please go away; I intend to examine
the Kotzash records. If you care to inquire about me, I refer you
to Adario Chanseth, at the Chanseth Bank."

"As you say, sir." The two men withdrew and after a whispered
consultation in the hall, departed.

Gersen started with the file cabinets, then went to the shelves,
then explored the desk. He found records of Kotzash dealings; of
ore acquisition and the corresponding distribution of share vouch-
ers, information which at one time he would gladly have possessed.
Now it meant nothing. He discovered copies of leases, licenses and
mineral exploration rights granted to Kotzash: all worthless, so he
had been assured. He made a parcel of these and set them aside.

The desk yielded nothing of interest whatever.

Gersen looked around the office one last time. It had harbored
Ottile Panshaw, Bel Ruk, and, almost certainly, Lens Larque; the
air still seemed tainted.

Gersen departed Dindar House. He went directly to his Fan-
tamic Flitterwing, and a few minutes later was gone into space.

PART

Methel

IS

From Peoples of the Coranne, by Richard Pelto.

Methel! the enchanted planet where a folk superb,
handsome, proud, and splendidly dressed live in privilege,
ostentatious privacy, and the often irritating conviction of
their own superiority.

"Arrogance," a word functionally apt when applied to
the Methlen, carries far too many incorrect connotations,
and quite misrepresents the ingenuous charm of this people.
Even their servitors and functionaries—the so-called Mon-
grels—regard the Methlen with an amused and even ap-
preciative tolerance, which, while often wry, is seldom
bitter.

For the student of the human condition and its infinite
permutations, the Methlen are a fascinating case. Their his-
tory is relatively uneventful. Methel was located for and
chartered to the membership of Aretioi, an exclusive club
of Zangelberg on Stanislas. Tracts of land were allocated
among the membership; the remainder of the planet was
designated a wilderness reserve. Many Aretioi who came
from Zangelberg to visit remained in residence, and all
enormously augmented their wealth by dealing in duode-
cimates.

With great dedication the Methlen have kept their
world private and remote. A spaceport at the service city
Twanish is the single depot of ingress or egress. The pop-
ulation of Methel is small. Twenty thousand Methlen in-
habit Llalarkno; perhaps as many more keep to their

686                                   THE DEMON PRINCES

country estates. Twanish is, in effect, an enclave inhabited
by fifty thousand Mongrels, offworlders of many varieties:

a mixed race indeed, which includes the occasional result
of a Methlen/non-Methlen liaison, and a large colony of
Darsh, who undertake menial tasks.

Llalarkno is more like an outsized village than a town.
The wonderful Methlen homes are sacred to the families
who inhabit them. Each is named; each owns a reputation,
or an atmosphere, or a mood, which is unique and well
known. In these houses the Methlen perform their rituals,
play their games, and undertake the pageants which provide
variety and color for their lives. Tournaments of a hundred
sorts, theatricals, opera cycles, pavanes, classical panto-
mime; the spectacles progress in their seasons; there are
roles for everyone.

Drama is the grand motif of Methlen existence. Part of
the game is to pretend that all other folk of the Oikumene
are primitive or at best uncouth. The more perceptive
Methlen recognize the game for what it is: a fantasy or
frivolity to be enjoyed for its own sake. Others hold the
concept to be a fundamental truth. The Methlen in general
lack awareness of their propensities. They tend to overstate,
to make grand gestures, to adopt flamboyant postures.
Every instant becomes a new tableau where they arrange
themselves to best advantage. However and withal, the
Methlen are a hardheaded people who make few mistakes,
and will not allow an extravagance to proceed to where it
becomes inconvenient.

Eight forts orbited Methel at a distance of half a million miles.
Following procedures specified in Space Pilot and Gazetteer, Gersen
declared himself to one of these forts. He was boarded and exam-
ined by a Methlen lieutenant and a pair of cadets, and presently
cleared for entry. He was assigned a landing plat at Twanish Space-
port and a traffic channel for the guidance of his autopilot.

The fortress authorities departed; the Fantamic Flitterwing
dropped away toward Methel: a globe solemn and magnificent,
showing like mottled velvet, dark blue and green, in the Cora-light.
To the side drifted the moon Shanitra, an angular lump of sinter

THE FACE

687

the color of ash, an object to which Gersen controlled exclusive
rights of mineral exploitation, for whatever these were worth.

The traffic control drew him down to Twanish, the single city
of Methel, and landed him on that plat assigned to him at Twanish
Spaceport.

The time was midaftemoon. Through the ports came Cora-
light, clear and lucid, but lacking the brutal impact ofDar Sai Cora-
light. Gersen stepped out upon the soil of Methel: Jerdian
Chanseth's world.

In the west Twanish showed a set of glass-and-concrete struc-
tures cantilevered out from one, two, or several load-supporting
columns, to create an effect of airy solidity. Beyond rose a wooded
upland: Llalarkno. To the north the land was planted to crops and
orchards; to the south a parkland of meadows and enormous old
trees heaved up to become a long range of ancient mountains.

A serene and pleasant prospect, thought Gersen. He crossed
the field by a path of cemented sinter to the space terminal, a po-
lygonal structure of black metal and glass with a-central tramc-and-
control tower. A sign directed him to a counter, where a uniformed
clerk noted his personal particulars into an information bank, thus
extinguishing a small yellow light on a display board: evidently the
completion of a verification procedure initiated at the space fortress.

A public conveyance carried him into the center of town. At
the Commercial Hotel he was offered room and bath adequate to
his needs. His most immediate concern was money, of which he
had none whatever. He placed a telephone call and discovered the
local correspondent of Cooney's Bank, which Gersen immediately
visited and where he was tendered a thousand SVU on his letter of
credit.

At a kiosk he bought a map of the city, then took a seat at a
nearby sidewalk cafe.

A waitress came to take his order. Gersen pointed to a table
where a man sat with a frosty pale green formulation. "What is that
gentleman drinking?"

"That is our Cross-eye Punch, sir; it's fruit juice, sweet spirits
of arrack, and bangleberry rum, frozen and whipped."

"Bring me one of the same," said Gersen, and settled back to
observe the inhabitants of Twanish. These were mostly Mongrels:

folk of various types but all wearing similar garments: jackets striped
vertically in dark or muted colors, with black trousers or skirts. The

THE DEMON PRINCES

688

effect was one of formality and punctilio. There was a scattering of
off-worlders: salesmen, agents, and a few tourists. Gersen also saw
Darsh, wearing clay-colored breeches and white blouses or white
pajama suits; and Methlen, set apart by their dark hair and olive
complexions, their clothes, and an indefinable ease of manner. An
interesting mix of people, thought Gersen.

The waitress brought a chilled flask of Cross-eye Punch.
Gersen opened his map of the city, which he saw to be of no
great extent. The streets and places of Twanish were carefully
limned and labeled, but that area to the west designated as Lla-
larkno showed no detail whatever. The Methlen abodes and their
avenues of ingress apparently were not to be exposed to the vulgar
gaze. Gersen gave the faintest of shrugs. Methlen vanities were

none of his concern.

The Cross-eye Punch was a success. At a signal the waitress
brought a second goblet. "This should be ample to your needs, sir,"
she told him earnestly. "It is strong drink, and a stranger will not
realize its authority until he attempts to stand erect. Sometimes
these are known as 'Tickets to Redemption,' because when folk take
more than is necessary they become obstreperous, and must be pun-
ished."

"I appreciate the warning," said Gersen. "How are these ob-
streperous ones punished?"

"That depends upon the offense, but often they are locked arm
and leg into clouts, and children are allowed to pelt them with soft
fruit, which often, so I fear, is spoiled and bad." The girl gave a
shudder of distaste. "I for one never want to be made a public

mock."

"Nor I," said Gersen. "Would you please bring me the tele-
phone directory?"

"Certainly, sir."

Gersen turned the pages, and immediately found the entry Kot-
zash Mutual, Skohune Tower, followed by the telephone code.

Gersen called the waitress and paid his score. "And where is

Skohune Tower?"

"Look yonder, sir, across the park. Notice the building with
the tall center portal? That is Skohune Tower."

Gersen sauntered across the park and approached Skohune
Tower; a structure of eight levels, the floors of white concrete, the
walls of glass, the load-bearing members four columns of black

THE FACE

metal: a far cry from Dindar House at Serjeuz. For a bankrupt and
debt-ridden concern such as Kotzash Mutual, Skohune Tower
would seem a startlingly expensive address. From somewhere had
come money: the Ettilia Gargantyr's insurance settlement? The sale
of plundered Kotzash duodecimates?

Gersen crossed the avenue and entered the ground-level foyer:

a glass-enclosed area between the four columns. A directory in-
structed Gersen that Kotzash Mutual occupied Chamber 307 on
the third level. Gersen considered the options open to him. He
might walk into the Kotzash offices and assert control: a forthright
act which certainly would arouse the notice of Lens Larque. There
might or might not be a corresponding advantage for Gersen; cer-
tainly he wanted to act before Panshaw learned of Bel Ruk's death,
which could only be a matter of hours.

Gersen crossed the foyer to the business office, where he dis-
covered a whippet-thin Mongrel with keen features and alert black
eyes, wearing the orthodox black trousers, a jacket striped in black,
brown, dull mustard, and maroon, and glossy black shoes. A brass
counter plaque read: Udolf Tester Manager.

Gersen identified himself as the field representative ofCooney's
Bank. "We are seriously considering a branch here at Twanish,"
said Gersen in his most solemn voice. "I'll need a business address,
and an office here might well serve my needs."

"I would be most happy to oblige you," said Testel, who
seemed not only keen but also somewhat pompous and self-
important. "Our occupancy is close to total; still, I could offer you
a suite on the second level, or a single room on the fifth." He
produced charts and indicated the premises to which he referred.
Gersen took the charts, studied them a moment, then examined the
third-floor plan. Kotzash Mutual occupied a single room, 307, be-
tween a single room occupied by Irie Pharmaceutical Imports, 306,
and the three-chamber offices ofJarkow Engineering, 308. "The
third level would suit me best," said Gersen. "What is available
here?"

"Nothing whatever."

"A pity. Either of these offices would exactly serve my needs."
Gersen indicated 306 and 307. "Are the tenants permanently es-
tablished? I wonder if they might be induced to move to the fifth
floor?"

Testel bridled at this somewhat high-handed proposal. "I am

THE OPTION PRINCKS

690

certain that they would not," he said stiffly. "Mr. Coost of Irie is
quite set in his ways. Mr. Panshaw in 307 works with Jarkow En-
gineering. Neither could consider moving: of this I am sure,"

"In that case I'll look at the fifth level office," said Gersen. "If
you'll give me the key, I'll make a quick inspection."

"Allow me to show the office," said Testal. "It is no trouble

whatever."

"I prefer to look the place over alone," said Gersen. "Then I
am not distracted in forming my opinions."

"Just as you like," said Testel in a nasal voice. He slid open a
drawer, selected a key. "Number-510, to the right as you leave the

lift."

Gersen rode the ascensor to the fifth level. The kev, a strip of
laminated metal, controlled the lock through varying permeabilities
to magnetic fields. Such a key could not readily be duplicated, and
would not facilitate entrance into 306, 307 or 308. Gersen, never-
theless, had noted the drawer in which the manager kept his spare

keys.

Gersen made a quick inspection of 510, then returned to Tes-
ters office on the ground floor and gave over the key. "I'll inform
you of my decision presently."

"We shall be happy to serve you," said Testel.

In a backstreet Gersen located a locksmith's workshop, where
he bought three blank keys similar to those used at Skohune Tower,
and had them engraved respectively with the numbers 306, 307,
and 308. He then returned to the spaceport and his ship, where he
packed several types of eavesdrop equipment into a case. When he
confronted Panshaw with the new circumstances, the ensuing con-
versations might well lead directly to Lens Larque, or at the very
least provide some indication as to his whereabouts.

Back at the Commercial Hotel he dropped off his equipment.
The time was now dusk and possibly too late to advance his pro-
gram any further. Gersen, nevertheless, felt restless and on edge.
Imminence was upon him; events were converging. He crossed the
park to Skokune Tower, thinking, to make a reconnaissance. IfOt-
tile Panshaw were on the premises, who knows where he might
lead when he departed?

From the park Gersen counted windows. 306 still showed light.
Mr. Coost of trie Pharmaceuticals worked late. 307 was dark; Ottile
Panshaw would be enjoying the evening elsewhere. 308, the offices

THE FACE

691

of Jarkow Engineering, were also dark. Gersen crossed the street
and looked into the foyer. The door into the business office stood
ajar, and the diligent Udolf Testel still stood at the counter, frown-
ing down at a ledger.

Gersen went to a telephone in the far corner of the foyer. He
called Testel's office and heard the sharp declaration: "Skohune
Tower; manager's office."

Gersen pitched his voice at a quavering half-falsetto: "Mr. Tes-
tel, come at once to the roof garden! There's mischief going on;

you must put an end to it! Come quickly!"

"Eh?" cried Testel. "What's all this? Who is calling, please?"

Gersen had broken the connection. He went to stand where he
could watch across the foyer.

Testel came from his office on the run, his expression eloquent
of concern and vexation. He Jumped upon the ascensor and disap-
peared from view.

Gersen crossed to Testel's office, went behind the counter, and
slid open the key drawer. He removed keys from the slots labeled
306, 307, 308, and replaced them with the blank keys. He closed
the drawer, left the office, crossed the lobby, and departed Skohune
Tower.

Pleased with his evening's work, Gersen dined at the Medallion
Restaurant, which advertised Classic Cuisine: Authentic Dishes in the
Style of the Grand Masters. Gersen, only mildly interested in abstruse
gastronomy, put himself at the mercy of the waiter, who handed
him a card edged in silver and black. "This is our Grand Repast of
today, sir, highly to be recommended!"
Gersen read:

Hors d'oeuvres of Ten Worlds
Broth with Aloe nuts and Water flowers,
in the style of Benitres, Capella VI.

Gratin of Pink Nard with Cress and Whitebait,
as served by Sigismond at the Grand Hotel,
Avente, Alphanor.

Prime Cutlets of the Five-Homed Darango,
imported from the Oxygen Marshes, Cuenos Notos.

THE DEMON PRINCES

692

Dumplings of Belsifer Root with Saffron,
in the
style of Farewell Station, Miriotes.

Relish of Mushroom Dry Saute,
Chilled Pineapple and Mango Chutney,
from the gardens of Old Earth.

Salad of Herbs and Greens,
dressed with oil of Mediterranean olives
and Alsatian vinegar.

Frivols, Flimsies, Flapdoodles,
as purveyed along the Esplanade at Avente.

Coffee from the Sunnyrain Highlands, Krokinole,
brewed to the instant in a porcelain pot and
served with a tot of Mascarene Rum,
in the style of Fat Hannah, at the Copus Spaceport.

The menu will be enhanced by five excellent wines,
appropriate to each service.

The price of thirty SVU placed this meal in the luxury category.
Well, why not? Gersen asked himself, and instructed the waiter:

"You may bring me this 'Grand Repast.' "

"At once, sir!"

The dishes were well prepared, garnished expertly and served
with a flourish. Perhaps they were indeed authentic, and so it
seemed to Gersen, who had dined at many of the listed localities,
and often had taken a tot of rum at Fat Hannah's on Copus. The
clientele, so he noticed, was at least halfMethlen. What ifJerdian
Chanseth were to wander in? WTiat would she think? What would
she do? Gersen wondered what he himself might do. Nothing,

probably.

He left the restaurant and strolled along the principal avenue
ofTwanish: a tree-lined boulevard known as The Mall, which, after
a sweeping curve around Redemption Park, veered up into Lla-

larkno.

Few vehicles other than cabs moved along the streets. The
Methlen system of control, so Gersen would learn, was simple: they

THE FACE

695

imposed high licensing fees and built no roads except in the near
vicinity of Twanish.

On impulse Gersen signaled down a cab: a small soft-wheeled
vehicle with the passenger compartment to the front and the driver
mounted behind.

"Where to, sir?"

"Llalarkno," said Gersen. "Just drive around a bit."

"You have no destination in mind, sir?"

"Quite right. Take me around Llalarkno and bring me back
here."

"Well—I suppose it can be done, now that it's dark. The Meth-
len, and you wouldn't know being an outworider, are jealous of
their privacy. They don't like to see great charabancs loaded with
tourists trundling about Llalarkno."

"So long as it's not illegal, I'll risk the trip."

"As you say, sir."

Gersen climbed into the passenger's compartment. The driver
inquired: "Any particular place that you wish to see, sir?"

"Do you know the residence ofAdario Chanseth?"

"Indeed, sir; the Chanseth house is named Oldenwood."

"When we pass Oldenwood, please point it out to me."

"Very well, sir."

The cab rolled off along The Mall, around Redemption Park,
and up the incline toward Llalarkno. Weeping acacia trees obscured
the lights of Twanish; almost at once Gersen felt himself in a new
environment.

The road turned off across a wooded upland, winding among
the Methlen homes. Gersen, perhaps prejudiced by his appraisal of
Adario Chanseth, had expected splendor and display; somewhat to
his surprise he found rambling old mansions built, so it was clear,
for no purpose other than to please those who lived there. He
glimpsed verandahs grown over with flowering vines, lawns, and
pools. Fairy lanterns floated through the gardens; tall windows of
many panes glowed golden. The folk who lived in these homes,
thought Gersen, would cherish them as if they were things alive.
Children would never want to leave, but the eldest son must inherit
and, heartsick or not, the others must leave. Gersen, who barely
remembered his childhood home, grew melancholy. He could own
such a home, if he so chose, as spacious and comfortable as any of
these. The expense certainly was no obstacle, only the style of his

694 THK DEMON PRINCES

life, which made such a notion no more than a far-fetched day-
dream. A pleasant daydream, nevertheless, upon which his mind
lingered. Where would he choose to live, if circumstances so ar-
ranged themselves? Not on Alphanor certainly, nor anywhere along
the Concourse, nor on any of the Vegan worlds, where such houses
as these would not sit comfortably. Perhaps on Old Earth, or even
here on Methel. With Jerdian Chanseth? The idea improved as
Gersen considered it. Impossible, however.

Gersen called up to the driver. "WTiere is Oldenwood?"

"We are drawing near. There: Parnassio, the house of the
Zanies. There, Andelmore, ofFloristys. And there is Oldenwood."

"Stop just a moment." Gersen stepped down from the cab and
stood in the road. In a mood of even deeper melancholy he con-
sidered the house where Jerdian had lived her life. The windows
were dark, except for a few watch-lamps; the Chanseths had not yet
returned home.

The driver spoke. "Notice the house just yonder? That's Moss
Alrune and a fine house indeed. It belongs to an old lady, the last
of the Azels. She's priced the house at a million SVU and won't take
a dit less. Do you know of Lens Larque, the great corsair?"

"Naturally."

"One day he came wandering through Llalarkno, just as you
now are doing, and saw the house. He decided to buy; after all,
what's a million SVU to Lens Larque? He strolled through the gar-
den, examining this and that, smelling the flowers, tasting the ber-
ries. Adario Chanseth happened to be abroad in his own garden,
and spied the strange man. He called out, 'Hey there! What are
you up to, in that garden?' 'I'm looking this property over, if it's
any of your affair,' said Lens Larque. 'I've decided to buy.' Adario
Chanseth roared out: *Be damned to that! I'll never tolerate your
big Darsh face hanging over my garden fence, not to mention your
stinks and smells. Get out of Llalarkno and stay out!' Lens Larque
roared back: 'Be damned to you! I'll buy where I like and put my
face where I like.' Chanseth rushed into his house and called the
security guards, who of course hustled Lens Larque off the prop-
erty; and there it still sits, vacant as ever, with no one willing to
pay the million SVU."

"And what ensued with Lens Larque?"

"WTio knows? They say he went off in a rage, and whipped a
dozen boys to soothe his feelings."

THE FACE

695

"And he's still on Methel?"

"Again, who knows? No one recognized him for Lens Larque
while he dickered for Moss Alrune; his name was only mentioned

later."

Through the trees Gersen could only glimpse Moss Alrune. On
the lake beyond a glittering trail reflected from the moon Shanitra.*

Gersen climbed back into the cab, which proceeded around
Llalarkno: through copses and dells, across moonlit glades, past the
great old houses, to which Gersen paid no further heed. The cab
returned down the incline and into The Mall. The driver's voice
intruded upon Gersen's musings. "WTiere do you wish to go, sir?"

Gersen considered. Haste was of utmost importance, but he felt
tired and out of sorts. Tomorrow morning would serve his purposes
well enough. "Take me to the Commercial Hotel."

*The muon is named after a grotesque clown in the Methlen opera bouffe.

13

From People of the Coranne, by Richard Pelto

The Twanish Mongrels, reacting to the exclusivity of
the Methlen aristocracy, have developed a counter-society,
which is orderly, genteel, and circumspect Perhaps it
should be noted here that "Mongrel" is not a Methlen
term The Methlen take note of only three sorts of people
Methlen, all other folk except the Darsh, and the Darsh
The term "Mongrel" was initiated by the Tivamsh Scribe
facetiously to characterize the varied origins of the Twanish
citizenry, the term came into vogue as an ironic reference
to Methlen pretensions a )oke which of course passed the
Methlen completely by

Mongrels prefer to ignore their economic dependence
on the Methlen They like to think of themselves as ener-
getic and hard-working entrepreneurs, with a general mul-
tiracial clientele. Their society is essentially middle class
and controlled b\ an exacting and fastidious etiquette

Everything considered, Mongrel fantasies are no less
flagrant than those of the Methlen, if of defensive origin
Mongrels like to think of the Methlen as frivolous, vain,
self-indulgent, and overbred, m contrast to their own dig-
nity, common sense, and stability The Methlen pageants
are considered extra\agant, ostentatious, and faintly ridic-
ulous as might be an array of strutting peacocks. Neverthe-
less, Methlen activities are the source of endless gossip
among the Mongrels, and every Methlen ofLlalarkno will

THE FACE 697

be recognized by name when he or she comes down into
Twanish

The two peoples with their contrasting cultures live
harmoniously The Mongrels affect a contemptuous disdain
for Methlen frailty, the Methlen pay the Mongrels no at-
tention whatever

Gersen arose early and took his kit to Skohune Tower The foyer
was empty and silent, the door into UdolfTestel's office was closed

Gersen rode the ascensor to the third level He passed 307
without so much as pausing, Ottile Panshaw's predilection for traps
and alarms made his present errand impractical At 308 he halted
and, after a glance up and down the corridor, inserted his key. The
door slid a)ar Gersen looked into the offices ofJarkow Engineer-
ing He saw a large reception room, with a glass-walled secretary's
office to the left and a hall to the right giving upon a glass-walled
drafting room and a pair of private offices

The chambers were empty Gersen entered, closed the door
behind him The reception room contained a couch, two chairs, a
table, and shelves displaying models of space-mining equipment
carriers, diggers, grinders, centrifuges, hoppers, conveyer systems
The secretary's cubicle backed upon Ottile Panshaw's office From
his case Gersen brought a drive-needle and drilled a small hole deep
into the wall Into the hole he inserted a probe, so that the tip made
contact with the outer skin of the wall in Ottile Panshaw's office
Under the secretary's desk he attached a recording machine inside
a black box, which he connected to the probe with conducting films
He removed the back plate from the secretary's telephone console,
brought wires up from the black box, and attached them to ter-
minals inside the telephone

He had worked quickly and efficiently, the time was still early
But as he replaced the back plate to the console, the door opened
and into the reception room came a young woman in secretarial
costume a black skirt and a crisp prim blouse, candy-striped in
purple, red, and white The secretary herself seemed not at all prim,
m fact she was saucy, vivacious, and pretty, with blond curls fluffing
out from under a white cap At the sight of Gersen she stopped
short. "And who might you be^"

"Communications technician, miss," said Gersen "Your line
has been showing irregular pulses, I've )ust set it right "

698

THE DEMON PRINCES

"Indeed." The girl crossed the reception room and tossed her
handbag into a chair. "I've noticed something of the sort, especially

on our calls out to Shanitra."

"Everything should proceed even and smooth now. There's one
little pan which often corrodes; we generally can fix it in five
minutes and be gone before anyone arrives to work, but today I've

been delayed."

"Fancy that. Well, I'm early this morning; I've got some letters

of my own to write. Do you work all night?"

"Just when I'm on call. I only work part-time; in fact I've been

on Methel only a month."

"Oh? Where's your world?"

"I'm originally out ofAlphanor, along the Concourse."

"I'd love to visit the Concourse! I'll be lucky if I get as far as

Dar Sai, dog bite it!"

The girl was very composed, thought Gersen, and full of spirit,

and also far from unattractive. "Working for a space-mining firm
as you do, I'd think you might be called on to travel everywhere."
The girl laughed. "I'm Just a receptionist. Mr. Jarkow barely
sends me to the store on errands. I suppose I could travel with him
under special circumstances, if you know what I mean, but I'm not

that sort."

Gersen picked up his case. "Well, I must be getting along." He

hesitated. "As I sav I'm a stranger in town and I know absolutely
no one. Would you think me bold if I asked you to meet me this
evening? Perhaps we could go somewhere pleasant for dinner."

The girl threw back her head and laughed, a trifle too loudly.
"You are bold indeed. We Mongrels are a very proper folk, and

I'm not so sure as to what you have in mind."

"Nothing more than what you can easily cope with," said Ger-
sen, attempting an ingenuous grin, which, had he known it, only
twisted his dark face into a cunning leer.

The girl failed to notice. "Are vou married?"

"No indeed."
"I really should say no and indignantly." She turned Gersen an

arch side-glance. "But, well—why not?"

"W^hy not indeed? WTiere and when shall I meet you?"
"Oh—let's say the Black Barn, which is very gay, with dancing

galore. Are you a nimble dancer?"
'Well—no. Not really."

THE FACE 699

"W^e'll repair that lack! At the tone of the evening hour. I'll
wait just bv the red door."

"Understood, except for how to find the Black Barn."

"My faith, you are a stranger indeed! Everyone knows the Black
Barn."'

"I'll find it without trouble. But let me ask your name."

"Lully Inkelstaff. Tell me yours."

"Kirth Gersen."

"What an odd name! It sounds quite medieval. Did you learn
your trade on Alphanor?"

"Partly, and partly here and there across space." Gersen took
up his case. "I'd better go. We're not supposed to make calls during
business hours. I wouldn't want to annoy Mr. Jarkow."

"You're too late," said Lully Inkelstaff. "I hear him in the cor-
ridor. Still, he's not one to worry overly much. He hardly notices
anything—except me, I must say."

The outer door slid aside; into the office came two men; the
first gaunt and gray, with narrow shoulders and a thin melancholy
face; the second tall, ponderous, and heavy-featured, with a pasty
complexion and a profusion of unsuitable golden ringlets. He wore
a loose and untidy Mongrel suit: black trousers, a jacket striped
black, green, and orange, which went ill with his complexion. The
thin man went directly into the drafting office; Jarkow paused to
rake Gersen up and down with a cold stare. He turned to Lully,
who said in a cheerful voice, "Good morning, Mr. Jarkow. Allow
me to introduce my fiance, Dorth Koosin."

Jarkow gave Gersen a nod lacking in amicability; Gersen bowed
politely in return, after which Jarkow stalked off to his office. Lully
put her hand to her mouth to stifle a titter. "The thought came to
me on the instant. On occasion Mr. Jarkow attempts familiarities
and I wanted to discourage him without a great drama. Sometimes
he is really quite peremptory. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," said Gersen. "I am glad to be of service. But now
I must go."

"I'll see you this evening."

Gersen left the office, and went directly to chamber 307, the
headquarters of Kotzash Mutual. He tried the door and found it
locked. Gersen rapped on the panel, but no one responded.

Gersen reflected a moment, then descended to the ground

700 THF DEMON PRINCES

floor Consulting the directory, he learned that Evrem Dai, Legal
Consultant and Factuary-at-Law, occupied suite 422

Gersen rode the ascensor to the fourth floor and went to Suite
422. A clerk took him to an inner office, where Evrem Dai sat at a
desk

Gersen succinctly stated his business Evrem Dai, as Gersen had
expected, wanted several days in which to fulfill the requirements,
but Gersen insisted not only upon haste but immediacy, and Evrem
Dai, after a moment's thought, prepared a document He then used
his communicator, spoke to several clerks and finally to a portly
gentleman at an enormous desk fabricated from black )et and gold.
Evrem Dai displayed Gersen's Kotzash shares and the document
he had prepared The portly gentleman made an acquiescent mo-
tion, Evrem Dai put the document into his communicator, where
it received a transmitted signature and seal

Gersen paid a not inconsiderable fee and left Evrem Dai's of-
fices He descended to the third level, arriving )ust in time to see
Ottile Panshaw stepping into room 307 Gersen ran forward and,
catching the door before it slid shut, entered the office. Panshaw
looked around with an expression of mild inquiry "Sir5"

"You are Ottile Panshaw5"

Panshaw squinted at Gersen, head to the side. "Do I know you5
I have the impression that somewhere we have met."

"Have you recently visited Dar Sal5 Perhaps we met there "

"Perhaps What is your name and what is your business5"

"I am a speculator. My name is Jard Glay, and I am the con-
trolling stockholder of Kotzash Mutual "

"Indeed " Panshaw thoughtfully started for his desk Gersen
said "A moment, Mr. Panshaw I am now your employer You are
a paid employee of Kotzash Mutual5"

"Yes, that is so "

"Then I prefer that you use this chair while we talk "

Panshaw smiled wryly. "You still have not demonstrated that
you are, in fact, the controlling stockholder "

Gersen produced the document prepared by Evrem Dai "I
have here an official attestation to this effect, together with a )u-
dicial order that you immediately relinquish into my custody all
documents, records, and correspondence pertaining to Kotzash
business, together with all assets, including money, stocks, interests,
contracts, real property, incidental property in short, everything."

THE r-tCE

701

Panshaw's smile had become tremulous "This is a most pe-
culiar circumstance. Naturally, I am aware that you have been ac-
quiring Kotzash stock May I inquire as to your motives5"

"Why do you trouble to ask5 You would believe nothing told
you"

Panshaw shrugged "I am not so skeptical as you appear to
believe "

"No matter," said Gersen "What is your nominal position here
at Kotzash3"

"Managing director "

"Who is the principal stockholder, after myselP"

Panshaw said guardedly "I hold a rather large block of shares "

"And what is the principal business of Kotzash now5"

"Essentially, exploration for duodecimates "

"Be so good as to elaborate "

Panshaw made a delicate gesture "There is nothing much to
tell you. Kotzash controls various charters and exclusive rights, and
we are trying to exploit them "

"Specifically, how and where5"

"At the moment we are concentrating upon Shanitra "

"Who has been making these decisions5"

"I, naturally Who else5"

"Where is the money coming from3"

Again Panshaw's delicate gesture "The subsidiaries have
yielded good profits "

"Which you have not distributed among the shareholders "

"We desperately need working capital The managing director
must allocate funds to his best judgment "

"I intend to look carefully into every phase of Kotzash As of
now, I want all activities suspended "

"You seem to be in a position of- authority," said Panshaw
suavely "You need only give the necessary orders "

"Exactly Do you intend to continue in your present capacity5"

Panshaw's sensitive face became creased with perplexity "You
have surprised me, I need time to assess the situation "

"In short, you refuse to cooperate with me5"

"Please," murmured Panshaw "Do not force unnatural mean-
ings upon my remarks "

Gersen went to the desk I o one side rested the communicator
screen and coding buttons Behind stood a small filing case for

702 FHE DF V10N PRINCES

current records. Much, if not most, of Kotzash's ramifications
would be filed only behind the fragile forehead of Ottile Panshaw.

Panshaw sat in a melancholy reverie Gersen watched him side-
long, now somewhat annoyed, in a sense he had outwitted himself.
To give Panshaw scope to conduct a telephone conversation, pre-
sumably with Lens Larque, he must leave Panshaw alone in the
office, thereby risking the destruction or alteration of Kotzash rec-
ords

An acceptable procedure suggested itself. He spoke in a rea-
sonable tone of voice. "These changes must come to you as an
unpleasant shock. Suppose I give you a few minutes to consider
your position."

"That would be most gracious of you," said Panshaw, allowing
no more than a trace of irony into his voice.

"I'll stroll up and down the corridor a time or two," said Ger-
sen. "Sit at your desk, if you like, but please do not interfere with
the records "

"Naturally not," said Panshaw indignantly. "Do you take me
for a scoundrel3"

Gersen left the office, leaving the door pointedly open. He
sauntered to the ascensor, then back, looking through the open
door as he passed. As he had expected, Panshaw was talking ear-
nestly into the communicator. Gersen could not see the screen,
which no doubt was blank in any case. Gersen walked on, to the
end of the corridor and back, and Panshaw still occupied himself
on the communicator, though now he frowned in nervous dissat-
isfaction.

Gersen made another tour of the passage, and when he passed
the door again, Panshaw sat leaning back in his chair, placidly pen-


sive.

Gersen stepped into the office. "Have you reached a decision3"

"Yes indeed," said Panshaw. "My legal adviser tells me that
only two honorable courses of action are open I can either depart
the office on the instant, or I can hope to continue in a paid capacity
with the company I feel that I would only defeat my own purposes
if now I withdraw in a fit of pique."

"Sensible, of course," said Gersen "Am I to understand that
you plan to cooperate with me3"

"That is correct, provided that we can come to financial terms."

THE FACE 703

"Before I can make an offer I must know more about the com-
pany, its resources, commitments, and assets."

"Understandable," said Panshaw. "To start with, allow me to
tell you this. Your instincts are superlatively keen. I blame myself
for folly and vacillation, long ago I should have made sure of a
controlling interest I neglected to do so and now I must accept the
penalty with as good grace as possible."

Gersen listened for that barely perceptible falsity which indi-
cated a speaker's awareness of an eavesdropper. He heard nothing
"If circumstances warrant, I will retain your services at an appro-
priate salary. For the moment, please produce a comprehensive list
of Kotzash assets."

Panshaw pursed his lips. "Such a list does not exist. We have a
few thousand SVU in the bank—"

"Which bank3"

"Sweecham's, just along the street "

"What of companies subsidiary to Kotzash3"

Panshaw hesitated. "We have working arrangements here and
there—"

Gersen interrupted. "Let us put an end to this foolishness. You
are congenitally unable to tell the truth, except, I suspect, under
duress. I have done a certain amount of research I know of Hector
Transit, for instance, and I know of the settlement for the Ettiha
Gargantyr Where is this money3"

Panshaw showed neither discomfort nor embarrassment. "Most
of it has gone to pay Jarkow "

"Pay him for what3"

"Explorations on Shamtra. We are making a massive effort "

"Why3"

"According to reports Shanitra carries somewhere a monster
lode of duodecimates We have been trying to locate it."

"Shamtra carries no duodecimates," said Gersen "The Meth-
len would have won it long ago."

Panshaw gave an urbane shrug. "New lodes of duodecimates
are constantly discovered."

"Not on Shamtra Kotzash is now under my control, and I don't
want Kotzash money wasted. Stop the explorations at once."

"Easier said than done. Certain phases have already been
funded—"

"We'll get a rebate. Is there a contract3"

^ HE DEMON PRINCES

704

"No I've worked on a basis of trust with Jarkow "
"Then perhaps he'll be reasonable now. Order an immediate

halt "

Panshaw again gave his urbane shrug, then rose to his feet and
left the office Gersen immediately went to the communicator and
made contact with Jarkow's office The decorative image of Lully
Inkelstaff appeared on the screen Gersen had blinked off the com-
municator's eye and she looked in vain to see who was calling She
spoke. "Jarkow Mining Who is calling please5"

Gersen kept silent. After a moment Lully nicked off her switch.
Gersen, however, still controlled the line incoming to the Jarkow
offices He tapped a code against the microphone to activate his
recorder playback

First a crackling sound, steps as Panshaw entered the office,
and a moment later his own appearance and his initial conversation
with Panshaw Then the sounds of his departure from the office,
and almost at once Panshaw's voice into the communicator "News
at this end Bel Ruk failed. I've )ust had a visit from the new control.
He's got a writ "

In response came a harsh voice which sent quivers along Ger-
sen's nerves "Who is he5"

"He calls himself Jard Glay I've seen him on Dar Sai, I can't
quite recall the circumstances He's an odd fellow, I can't make him
out."

A brief silence Then again the ominous voice- "Play him easy.
Watch him In a day or two I'll have him taken up, then we'll leam
who he is "

"It might be better to act at once," said Panshaw cautiously.
"He could cause trouble. Suppose he knows of Didroxus Mining5
Or the Hector Transit account5 Or Theremus5 He could block us
out financially "

"How could he know5"

"Hector Transit is a matter of record on Aloysius The accounts
are all at Sweecham's."

"Work up a set of transfers dated yesterday Kosema will handle
the matter without difficulty "

"I can do that easily enough Still, something about this fellow
alarms me There he is now, watching me from the corridor "

"Let him watch As soon as I show the face I'll deal with him
But first I must show the face "

THE FACE

"Very well " Panshaw's voice lacked conviction

"In the meantime, cooperate with him—to a point Discover
what he's after, perhaps he'll teach us something to our profit In
four days, or perhaps five, we'll put an end to him "

"As you say "

Gersen tapped a code to his eavesdrop device, cut off the com-
munication, then rose to his feit and v\ent to the door Panshaw
should have returned from his visit to room 308 h} this time Ger-
sen went back to the communicator and once more called Jarkow's
office This time he allowed Lullv to sec his face "It's I, your fiance,
remember me5"

"Oh yes But—"

"Tell me, is Ottile Panshaw in your office5"

"He left )ust a moment ago "

"Thank you lomght at the Black Barn, don't forget'"

"I won't "

Gersen left the office, descended to the ground floor, and went
out to the street A hundred feet north he saw "a sign

SWEETCHAMS BANK

Commercial Services .. . Interworld Transfers

Gersen ran to the bank and entered through tall glass doors
An attendant approached "Sir, how may I assist you5"

'"Who is Mr Kosema2"

"That is his office yonder \t the moment he is busy "

"The matter concerns me I'll |ust step over "

Gersen crossed the lobby and entered Kosema's ofhce A pink
pudgy man with a round face and a pouting pink mouth sat at a
desk opposite Ottile Panshaw. He had been frowning down at a
paper, he looked up with a nervous )erk Ottile Panshaw smiled
sadly

Gersen took the paper from in front of Kosema He sav\ it to
be an order transferring funds in the total of s\ u 4,501, 100 from
accounts described as Kotzash 2 Theremus, Kotzash 4 Hector
Transit, Kotzash S Didroxus Mining, and Kotzash 9 Wundergast
Interests The benehciary of the order, dated yesterday, was the
Basramp Investment Company

Gersen stared at Kosema "Are you participating with Ottille
Panshaw in felonious grand theft5"

706 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Of course not," spluttered Kosema "I was about to inform
Mr Panshaw that I could not help him How dare you suggest such
a thing'"

"I could suggest it to the authorities, I could show them this
order, which is on a Sweecham form "

"Absurd'" Kosema's voice cracked and quavered "You have no
reason to suspect lack of fidelity "

Gersen gave a sardonic snort. "Look at these documents I am
managing director of Kotzash "

"Yes, so it appears Well, Mr Panshaw has perhaps failed to
inform me—"

Panshaw rose to his feet. "I must be on my way "

"You will wait," said Gersen "Sit down, if you please "

Panshaw hesitated, then resumed his seat

"Mr Kosema, I now notify you that Mr. Panshaw has no fur-
ther authority m regard to Kotzash moneys I will challenge any
drafts which you pay from this moment onward unless they bear
my signature "

Kosema gave a curt bow "I understand perfectly I assure
you—"

"Yes Your unassailable fidelity. Come along, Panshaw "

Ottite Panshaw followed Gersen out to the street "A moment,"
he said "Let us go sit on that bench yonder "

The two crossed the Mall to the park and seated themselves
upon a bench

"You are an amazing man," said Panshaw "I fear that your acts
will cost you dearly "

"How so?"

Panshaw shook his head "I will name no names But I will tell
you what I am now about to do. In two hours a Black Arrow packet
leaves Methel, bound for Saudal Suud I plan to be aboard Take
my advice and depart aboard the same vessel When a person whose
name I cannot bring myself to utter discovers that you have taken
almost five million S\ U's of money he regards as his own, he will
treat you in a way I do not care to think about."

"I am surprised that you warn me "

Panshaw smiled "I am a thief, a swindler, an extortionist I am
a thoroughgoing scoundrel But when my self-interest is not in-
volved I am apt to be decent, even generous I am now taking flight,
in a panic that this man will blame me for your deeds You will

707

never see me again, unless you ]om me aboard the Anvana Syntfo
Otherwise you will be carried a\vay to a secret place There you
will slowly and carefully be flayed "

"Tell me where to find this man I will put an end to him "

Panshaw rose to his feet "I don't dare so much. He never
forgets a wrong, as you will learn Do not ride in a cab, change
your hotel every night Don't go back to the Kotzash office, there's
nothing there to interest you He chose the office onl\ because it
was next to Jarkow "

"Did you order Jarkow to halt operations3"

"My word carries no weight with Jarkow Tell me where have
we met before^"

"At Rath Eileann, in the Estremont, and at the Domus Do you
remember Benchmaster Dalt3"

Ottile Panshaw raised his eyes to the sky. "Good-bye " He
walked rapidly away through the park

14

From Life, Volume III, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

I am constantly startled and often amused by the diverse
attitudes toward wealth to be found among the peoples of
the Oikumene.

Some societies equate affluence with criminal skill; for
others wealth represents the gratitude of society for the per-
formance of valuable services.

My own concepts in this regard are easy and clear, and
I am sure that the word "simplistic" will be used by my
critics. These folk are callow and turgid of intellect; I am
reassured by their howls and yelps.

For present purpose I exclude criminal wealth, the gar-
nering of which needs no elaboration, and a gambler's
wealth, which is tinsel.

In regard, then, to wealth:

1. Luxury and privilege are the perquisites of wealth.
This would appear a notably bland remark, but is
much larger than it seems. If one listens closely, he
hears deep and far below the mournful chime of
inevitability.

2. To achieve wealth, one generally must thoroughly
exploit at least three of the following five attributes:

a. Luck

b. Toil, persistence, courage

c.  Self-denial

THE FACE

d. Short-range intelligence: cunning, improvisational

ability
e. Long-range intelligence: planning, the perception

of trends

These attributes are common; anyone desiring privilege
and luxury can gain the precursory wealth by making proper
use of his native competence.

In some societies poverty is considered a pathetic mis-
fortune, or noble abnegation, hurriedly to be remedied by
use of public funds. Other more stalwart societies think of
poverty as a measure of the man himself.

The critics respond:

What an unutterable ass is this fellow Unspiek! I am
reduced to making furious scratches and crotchets with my
pen!

—Lionel Wistofer, in The Monstrator

1 am poor; I admit it! Am I then a churl or a noddy? I
deny it with all the vehemence of my soul! I take my bite
of seed-cake and my sip of tea with the same relish as any
paunchy plutocrat with bulging eyes and grease running
from his mouth as he engulfs ortolans in brandy, Krokinole
oysters, filet of Darango Five-Horn! My wealth is my shelf
of books! My privileges are my dreams!

—Sistie Fael, in The Outlook

. . . He moves me to tooth-chattering wrath; he has in-
flicted upon me, personally, a barrage of sheer piffle, and
maundering insult which cries out to the Heavens for
atonement. I will thrust my fist down his loquacious maw;

better, I will horsewhip him on the steps of his club. If he
has no club, I hereby invite him to the broad and conven-
ient steps of the Senior Quill-drivers, although I must say
that the Inksters maintain a superior bar, and this shall be
my choice since, after trouncing the old fool, I will un-
doubtedly ask him in for a drink.

—McFarquhar Kenshaw, in The Gaean

710 THK DEMON PRINCK.S

The shrubbery behind Gersen rustled; he ducked, fell off the
bench in a crouch. When he turned, his small gun was in his palm,
the nozzle protruding between first and second fingers.

A gardener in white coveralls looked at him in wonder. "Sorry
I startled you, sir."

"Not at all," said Gersen. "I am a nervous man."

"So I noticed."

Gersen moved to another bench and sat where he could see in
all directions. He long had felt himself a man apart from all others,
with a certain destiny; often he had known horror and rage and
pity, but fear, when it entered his mind, came strangely.

Gersen examined himself with detachment. Fear had affected
Tintle, Daswell Tippin, Ottile Panshaw, and now himself. Well,
why not fear? The thought of a flaying, with Lens Larque wielding
Panak, was horrid enough to frighten a corpse.

Gersen sat motionless, discouraged and despondent. The
sources of his mood were clear enough. He had become enamored
ofJerdian Chanseth; he envied the Methlen their beautiful homes.
Both emotions had broken against his harsh and obsessive purposes
like waves breaking against a rock. And now with Panshaw gone,
his single link to Lens Larque had frayed to a broken strand or two.
One of these strands was Jarkow. Or he could allow himself to be
captured and taken to visit Lens Larque, at which thought his skin
crawled.

Gersen reviewed the events which had brought him to Twanish.
They led from Rath Eileann and Tintle's Shade to Serjeuz, Din-
kelstown, and finally to Methel. He had expended vast exertion, but
what had he achieved? Nothing of consequence. What had he
learned? Only that Lens Larque, for reasons unknown, had engaged
Jarkow Engineers to an unreasonably thorough investigation of the
moon Shanitra.

So then, he asked himself gloomily, what next? He had not yet
inspected Panshaw's office, which in any event was probably a waste
of time; indeed, Panshaw had specifically told him so. With no great
enthusiasm Gersen returned to Skohune Tower and room 307.
Sliding back the door, he scrutinized the room, which already felt
disused and dead. To capture a man, the easiest method was nar-
cotic gas. Gersen sniffed the air, which smelled fresh enough. He
checked the door casing for sensors, looked along the rug for a
hump which might indicate a mine. The rug itself might be woven

THE FACE 711

of explosive fibers, which would upon contact break him into frag-
ments.

Carefully he entered the room, and avoiding the rug, sidled to
the desk. Using elaborate precautions, he explored Panshaw's files,
where he found the various leases, enabling certificates, licenses,
and grants which originally had been declared Kotzash MutuaPs
only assets. Most carried a terse notation written in red ink: "worth-
less." The Shanitra lease awarded Kotzash Mutual sole and exclu-
sive rights to "explore, test, develop, and exploit all valuable
substances present upon the surface or within the interior," and
prohibited "all other persons, agencies, and entities, including
manned or unmanned mechanical devices" from trespass upon
Shanitra for the term of the lease, which ran for the term of twenty-
six years.

Interesting, thought Gersen, if not particularly illuminating.
The key question remained unanswered: why would Lens Larque
invest so much time and money on Shanitra?

Gersen found nothing more to interest him.-The details of pay-
ments made to Jarkow, or other engineering firms, were nowhere
in evidence; presumably they resided in a bank computer.

Gersen called Sweecham's Bank, and after a series of formalities
with which he patiently complied, he was rendered the code which
controlled Kotzash financial records.

For half an hour Gersen studied the information presented to
him and in the end knew little more than before, although the
magnitude of payments made to Jarkow came as something of a
surprise. For over a year Kotzash had honored monthly invoices
from Jarkow in sums ranging from svu 80,500 to svu 145,720.
The payments then dropped off to SVU 42,000. Whatever the
search, it seemed to be dwindling and phasing out.

On sudden thought, Gersen looked into the city directory. Jar-
kow Engineering must necessarily maintain an equipment yard, em-
ployment and bookkeeping facilities, transport docks, even a
warehouse.

In the directory under "Jarkow" Gersen discovered four entries:

a residential address for "Lemuel Jarkow," another for "Swiat Jar-
kow," "Jarkow Engineering" in Skohune Tower, and "Jarkow
Corporation Yard," on Gladhorn Road.

Gersen put away the directory, leaned back on the chair, and
tried to formulate a plan of action. Ottile Panshaw had served as a

712 THE DEMON PRINCES

kind of indicator, registering the presence of Lens Larque as a buoy
marks the location of a reef With Panshaw gone, Gersen himself
became the key to Lens Larque's whereabouts, m the same sense
that a staked-out lamb is the key to the presence of a tiger Gersen
winced. Far better that he seek out Lens Larque than that Lens
Larque seek him out.

The only investigation which seemed even remotely propitious
was contained in the question why did Lens Larque invest so much
effort on Shanitra5

Jarkow might know, but Jarkow would certainly tell Gersen
nothing The melancholy draftsman might also know Jarkow's em-
ployees—those who had worked on Shanitra—might know

Gersen, prickling with the need for action, jumped to his feet
He crossed the room, slid the door open a trifle, looked up and
down the corridor, which was empty. He descended to the street
Gladhorn Road, according to his map, angled away from the Mall
and curved to the northeast

A cab swung to the curb and halted, as if soliciting his custom.
Gersen continued along the Mall, and presently glanced over his
shoulder The cab, old and quite ordinary, distinguished only by a
faded white stripe around the skirt, moved out into the traffic and
was gone. The driver had been a bulky flat-faced man of uncertain
age and unknowable racial background

Gersen performed a set of procedures designed to frustrate any
tracer mechanism which might have been put upon him On Glad-
horn Road he stepped into a clothing store, where he brought gray
twill trousers, a pale blue shirt, a belted brown jacket, and a black
cloth cap, which he donned on the spot Leaving his former gar-
ments on the premises, he went out on the street, now in the guise
of an artisan

Gladhorn Road curved to the east, past small shops and mis-
cellaneous enterprises, rooming houses, taverns, restaurants, dim
stores dealing in curios, apothecaries, barbers, public clerks. At the
outskirts of town Gersen came upon the Jarkow Corporation Yard,
where Jarkow maintained his equipment conveyors, rotary torches,
gantrys, vertical stabbers, thrusts, loading pods, a pair of mobile
cranes To one side stood a row of small buildings The first showed
a sign EMPLOYMENT OFFICE Across the doorway hung a second
sign NO HIRING TODAY. Beyond were a payroll office and tool

warehouses, then a small landing field, on which rested a pair of
weatherbearen personnel carriers and a heavy cargo lift

For want of a better occupation, Gersen entered the employ-
ment office Behind a counter sat an old man with a scarred brown
face "Sir="

"I saw the sign," said Gersen "Does that mean there'll be no
hiring tomorrow5"

"That's my guess," said the clerk "We're |ust closing down a
big )ob and there's nothing else on the boards In fact we've laid
off most of our crew "

"What's the |ob you just finished5"

"Big exploration job, up on Shanitra "

"Did they find anything5"

"Friend, whatever they found I'm the last man they'd tell "

Gersen turned away and sauntered back out to the street Op-
posite he noticed a ramshackle building decorated with extraordi-
nary lightning bolts of black and white on a background of brick
red The roof supported a large sign as garish as the building itself
a crescent moon with a naked girl reclining in the concavity, she
held aloft a goblet of pale liquid from which floated electric sparks
The sign displayed a legend SIAR-UANDIRER'S IN\

Gersen crossed the street Fhe music of a euphonium, played
with gusto and decision, waxed louder as he approached In his
tarings across the Oikumene Gersen had known manv. such taverns,
where he had witnessed many strange events and heard many odd
tales, not a few of them true

He entered a long low-ceilinged room, heavy with beer mmes
In the far corner a hatchet-faced old woman in a gown of black
tinsel, her skin toned white, her hair dyed blue, played the eupho-
nium, at the other end was the bar a single slab of petrified wood
In between groups of men and a few women sat at wooden tables
Alone at a table to the back sat a large Darsh, brooding into a huge
tankard of ale

Gersen went to the bar A shelf to the rear displayed a multitude
of beer mugs, imprinted with as many emblems Gersen saw a num
her of familiar labels Veigence and True Companion from Alphanor,
Oblademe and Old SubtefJaneafi from Copus, Smade\ Oun from
Smade's Planet, Bass Ale, Hmano, Tuskef, Ancho? Steam from Earth,
Mahogany Select from Derdyra, Edeiff impschen from Bogardus Ger-
sen felt himself in the presence of old friends In the spirit of- the

714 THE DEMON PRINCES

time and place he requested a flask of the local brew, Hangry's White
Ale, which he found eminently palatable.

Turning, he looked around the room. At a large trestle table
sat a group of men whose conversation identified them as employ-
ees ofJarkow Engineering. They had consumed considerable beer
and spoke in loud positive voices, making no effort to dissemble
their opinions.

"—told Motry that if he wanted me on that man-killer he'd
have to give me back my swamper and also some kind of shroud to
bar the dust. He promised, and I ran the dingus for a month and
got scabs and red-nose and all else, and then I find that Motry gave
my swamper to old Twaidlander, who runs that little tri-nozzle
about two hours a day, and never dirties a finger."

"Mocry's a strange one. You got to handle him right."

"Well, I don't work for Jarkow anymore and I might just ex-
plain things to Motry."

"He's still up on the job, with the technician."

"The two of them can blow each other up, for all of me."

Gersen took a seat at the table. "You gentlemen all work for
Jarkow?"

An instant silence while he was appraised by six pairs of eyes.
One said curtly, "Not now. The job's washed out."

"So I was told at the hiring office."

One man said, "You arrived on the scene about a year late."

Another grumbled: "You didn't miss much. Bad food, low pay,
and Claude Motry for superintendent."

"And no bonus!"

Gersen said thoughtfully, "Not much chance of a bonus unless
they found a lode of black sand."

"They couldn't find black sand because there's none out there.
Everybody knows that, except the rich lunatics who paid the bills."

Gersen suggested: "Maybe they weren't looking for black
sand."

"Maybe not, but what else is there to look for?"

Another argued: "Even so and irregardless, they never did a
proper exploration. All shallow tunnels, no deep probes. Where
they'd hope to find sand is deep, and nowhere did we tunnel deep.
More of a mesh or a network, as if they were looking for something
shallow."

THE FACE 715

"Out in Section D we went down a good half mile before we
made our horizontals."

Gersen spoke for a round of drinks and the workers gave him
their cordial best wishes.

Somewhat to the side sat a young man wearing workman's
breeches with a fine green jacket and yellow shoes. In a quiet voice,
to no one in particular, he spoke a single word: "Twittle."

One of the workmen nudged Gersen. "Watch this now. Watch
the Darsh."

Gersen looked at the Darsh, who as before sat staring into his
beer.

"Pfit," said the young man in yellow shoes.

The Darsh brought his hand to the tankard and began to flex
heavy red fingers.

"Prat," said the young man.

The Darsh lowered his head between his shoulders, but still did
not raise his eyes. The young man jumped to his feet and went to
the door. Along the street came a stout gentleman with a moony
face, a pair of glossy mustaches, wearing a fine Mongrel suit.

"Phut," said the young man, and quickly ran off down the
street. The Darsh jerked to his feet and lumbered out the door.
The stout gentleman attempted to move aside but the Darsh seized
him, threw him to the ground, kicked his round rump, poured a
mug of beer over his head, then slouched off down the street.

The gentleman in the black suit sat up, to stare in perplexity
this way and that. Slowly he rose to his feet, shook his head in
wonder, and continued on his way.

The workers returned to their conversation. "The strangest job
I ever worked," said one. "I've mined twenty-six asteroids, and
never wasted ten minutes on such a block of pumice. All surface
scum, so I told Motry. He wouldn't listen."

"He never cared one way or another, so long as Jarkow paid
his wage."

"Not Jarkow; somebody bv the name ofKotzash."

"Whatever, they had us boring like weevils through cheese, and
now they're satisfied at last!"

A newcomer had come to stand by the table. "Don't be too
sure! We just got finished today laying out ropes ofdexax—Motry
and the technician are arranging the wires. Once they blast, Motry
says we'll go back and tunnel some more. I asked him: 'Motry, what

716 I HP Df-MON PRINCES

in the name of Delilah's hind leg are we looking for^ Then I could
keep my eyes peeled ' He )ust give me his sarcastic grunt and says
'When I need your advice I'll ask for it' 'Take it anyway, Mr
Motry,' I say 'It's free'' And he says, 'Free advice is worth what it
costs, and how come you're standing here advising instead of work-
ing^' 'Because, Mr Motry, I've finished my )ob ' 'Then punch out
your ticket and take the carrier down to land The job is done for
now'' So I come on down, and just now got my pay There's nobody
left up there but Motry and Jarkow and a couple of technicians
rigging some kind of radio contact "

Gersen sat a few minutes longer and presently decided that the
workmen knew no more about the Shamtra project than he did
himself He took his leave, and returned up Gladhorn Road the way
he had come At the clothing shop he resumed his usual garments
and walked along the Mall to the Commercial Hotel Before en-
tering his room he took careful precautions for fear that someone
might have visited him, leaving an unpleasant surprise. He found
nothing out of the ordinary

He took his lunch in the hotel restaurant, hardly noticing what
he ate. During the last few hours much had occurred, but nothing
from which he could derive meaningful information

He left the restaurant and went out on the Mall, watching to
right and left He saw nothing to threaten him, unless—was that
cab with the white stripe around the skirt the same cab which had
accosted him earlier^ He could not be sure He crossed the Mall
and went into the park For ten minutes he walked the gravel paths,
wondering what to do next Lens Larque was somewhere near at
hand perhaps in a space vessel, perhaps on Methel itself.

Gersen's mind had become tired, he was bored with his prob-
lems and saw no way to escape them On impulse he went out to
a side street, where he signaled down a passing cab one which
displayed no faded white stripe around the skirt. He told the driver,
"Take me out to Llalarkno "

As before, the driver made difficulties "That's like a big private
park The Methlen don't like visitors, in fact they put probation
points against any cab they catch with tourists "

'Tm not a tourist," said Gersen "I am an mterworld banker
and a man of great importance "

"All very well, sir, but the Methlen draw no such distinction."

THE FACE 717

Gersen produced a five-svu certificate "I am also able to pay
the fare "

"As you say, sir But if I am approached and notified, then you
must pay the impositions "

"Agreed," said Gersen "Take me to Oldenwood, the Chanseth
house."

The glades and dells of Llalarkno worked magic upon Gersen's
nerves As he looked off at the half-hidden houses, his fears and
compulsions began to seem unreal

At Oldenwood the driver slowed the cab "The Chanseth res-
idence, sir "

"Stop )ust a moment," said Gersen The driver reluctantly
obeyed Gersen threw open the door and stood up on the boarding
flange Past a bank of flowering shrubs and a sprawling candlenut
tree a lawn sloped down to Oldenwood Somewhat beyond the
house Gersen glimpsed a group of young people dressed in white,
yellow, and pale blue They seemed to be watching a game, perhaps
tennis or badminton, played beyond Gersen's range of vision.

"Come, sir," said the driver in a voice of urgency "Banker or
even mterworld financier, they won't like you peering and staring.
They have a mania for privacy, these Methlen "

Gersen returned into the cab "Drive over to Moss Alrune "

"As you wish, sir "

At Moss Alrune Gersen descended from the cab and despite the
driver's anxious protests, walked around the grounds, appraising the
house, the meadow which sloped down to the lake, the surrounding
trees He heard no sound but a faint trilling of insects.

Gersen returned to the cab "Take me back into Twamsh "

"Thank you, sir."

Gersen alighted at the Canna-Crux Bank, where he arranged
for the purchase by Cooney's Bank, through its affiliate, the Canna-
Crux Bank, of that property known as Moss Alrune, from the estate
agent representing Cytherea Azel

15

From "The Avatar's Apprentice," in Scroll from the
Ninth Dimension

On that fateful afternoon the very skies showed por-
tents a lurid gloom in the east, a cloud of meaningful shape
over Ymmyr Marsh in the west

Since dawn's first flush Marmaduke had paced the par-
apets, overlooking the horde which cloaked Mamnguez
Plain Everywhere showed the flux of sinister purpose.
Along Shadim Road manciples drove their war-wagons
Cham River could not be seen for barges loaded with en-
gines, tormentors, and gibbets Halfway up the Yar
swarmed the multitudes; from north to south their beacons
flashed.

At last Holy Bermssus, in stately robes, stepped out
upon the parapets He raised high his arms m benign salute,
but the hordes expressed a hateful sound which, mingling
from all quarters, produced the dull wavering roar of
stormy surf.

Bermssus shook his head in sorrow and drew somewhat
back. For moments he gazed across the plain, stroking his
beard

Marmaduke reverently came forward "Holy Sir, it
seems that we two stand alone against this vindictive mul-
titude "

Bernissus uttered Words "It is well "

Marmaduke stood back in perplexity "Most Excellent'

THE FACE

Illuminate my ignorance, if you will' How may we find sat-
isfaction in these lonely conditions^"

Bernissus spoke Words "In good time all will be made
known "

"I am grateful for the assurance," said Marmaduke "In
sheer truth this odious horde has unnerved me "

"Feltaw cannot prevail,1' were the Words, "even though
he has wrought a great and busy mischief."

"Holy Appodex allow me to enumerate the victims of
his cruel hoax. Of the horde now pullulating across the
plain, all are either Devanants or Oblatics, with the excep-
tion of ten thousand Cathars Many know syllables of the
Unspeakable name Yonder stand the Purple Myrmidons,
yonder the Hypogrotes ofLissam, yonder the Glames, who
at least show us the etiquette of facing forward inasmuch
as they go into battle with naked backsides The Swans of
Porving cluster around their Magnates, they menace us
with standards on high' I recognize Obus -of Thraw, Vil-
nisser, the Red Cockatrice, Pleighborn, Flynch, and Sand-
sifer of Hutt Not ten days ago they burned blue incense at
fanes along the Wayvode'"

Once more Bernissus moved forward to stand in maj-
esty, the wind blowing back his robes and white beard Rais-
ing arms on high he issued a slogan, which whirled down
Manmguez Plain and broke against the Yar in flashes of
lightning The enemy quailed but presently took courage
and thrust high their standards They shouted "The De-
cretals must be altered' We nominate Felfaw for the Col-
umn' Bermssus, falsest of the false, must be cast down'"

Bermssus spoke gentle Words "Not all are malign In
this case, bad leads good "

"The swords of both sorts are long and sharp," declared
Marmaduke "I fear that these noble parapets must burst
asunder with only the two of us on defense Where are the
faithful5 Where Helgebort and the Indefatigables5 Where
Nish and Nesso, and Little Mouse^ WTiere the Vervils3"

"Their destinies lie elsewhere," were the Words
"They are the cadres, they will teach and counsel, they will
declaim the Panticles, and prepare the onset of the Second
Realm So let it be'"

I HP DLMONPRINOS

720

"Blessed Bernissus' What must be my role in the days
to come3"

"Each plays his part I go now to the Oratory to devise
an irresistible Slogan, to send these poor)ackals reeling For
the nonce you must patrol the parapets Post high the stan-
dards, dislodge ladders, defy the foe "

"I will do all needful," declared Marmaduke staunchly
"But, Beneficence, make haste' The enemy awaits only the
sign "

"All will be well." With deliberate tread Bernissus de-
scended to the Sacred Chamber

The sign came down, the legions gave a tremendous
yell and advanced upon the parapets

Marmaduke called into the passage "Beloved Bernis-
sus' The sign has come down from Achernar, the legions
are upon us' Their swords are thrice-honed steel, they carry
lances, catapults, and war-hooks, they raise ladders to scale
the parapets' I have posted the standards, my slogans have
created havoc, but I am one against eight hundred thou-
sand. I will necessarily be cut into minute pieces, as each
warrior vents his zeal upon my single corpse' Ineffable, the
time is at hand!"

Marmaduke listened but heard no response Anxiously
he descended the passage and called the holy Name, but
his voice rang hollow through empty chambers Down to
the uttermost foundations he went, and through a seep-hole
crawled out upon the marsh He fled to the north and pres-
ently overtook Bermssus, who, with robes gathered high
and with thewed legs thrusting back the mire, made pon-
derous but steady progress north toward Warram Forest

Gersen descended from his room to the lobby of the hotel and
looked out the front windows into the street Three cabs stood at
the curb, apparently waiting for custom The first, which showed a
weathered white stripe around the skirt, was driven by a swarthy
flat-faced man with black curls and ears clipped to points Gersen
seated himself where he could watch the street

A man and a woman left the hotel Fhey approached the first
cab, but were refused service They tried the second and then the

THE FACE 721

third with similar results, and finally hailed a cab cruising along the
street

Three cabs in a row, each equipped with a tank of narcogen3
Possible, thought Gersen quite possible indeed

He stepped from the front door and stood a moment before
the hotel as if in cogitation From the corner of his eye he noticed
that all three drivers had become alert Gersen paid them no heed
He crossed the Mall and walked into the park. From behind a copse
of snuff-brush he watched the cabs The first remained in place,
the second and third slid hurriedly away around the Mall

Gersen returned to tlie Mall a hundred yards west of the hotel
where he nagged down a passing cab, definitely not one of those
which had been waiting in front of the hotel

"Take me to the Black Barn," said Gersen

The cab swung about and instead of climbing the incline toward
Llalarkno, turned south and out into the country

The Black Barn stood m the middle of a field a half mile from
town a circular building with low plank wall? and a vast conical
roof surmounted by a black iron weathervane in the shape of a
crowing rooster Lully Inkelstaff had not yet arrived

The sun sank behind the far hills, leaving a sky of tangerine
and gold, and now Lully Inkelstaff appeared, wearing a black-and-
white gown, with a great puff of red gauze pinning the blond curls
at the back of her head She greeted Gersen with a cheerful wave
of the hand "I don't think I'm too late—)ust a few minutes perhaps,
which is quite good for me Have you been inside3"

"Not yet. I thought I'd better wait here for you "

"Just as well It's so easy to miss connections, it happens shame-
fully often And—must I admit U^—I'm usually to blame Shall we
go ln:! I think you'll be amused Everyone likes the Black Barn,
even the Methlen They're always here in force. Wait till you see
their strange dancing' But come'" Lully took Gersen's arm with an
almost affectionate cordiality, as if they had been friends for years
"If we're m luck my favorite table will be waiting for us "

They passed through a pair of iron-bound plank doors and into
a foyer furnished with dilapidated old farm implements To right
and left were stalls, from which protruded the heads of simulated
farm animals

A ramp led down into the main chamber past a pair of rickety
old wains Hundreds of tables encircled the dance floor, with a

THE DEMON PRINCES

bandstand to the back now occupied by a pair of musicians in an-
imal costumes, playing tamboura and oboe.

Lullv led the way to a table which Gersen found no different
from any other, but at which Lully settled herself with an excla-
mation of happy satisfaction.

"You'll think me silly, but this is my good luck table. I've had
such merry times here! We're sure to have a wonderful evening!"

"You make me nervous," said Gersen. "Perhaps I won't match
up to the occasion. Then you'll be annoyed with both me and the
table."

"I'm sure not," said Lully. "I've decided that we shall enjoy
ourselves and the table had best mind its manners."

Definitely a brisk and determined young woman, thought Ger-
sen; best that he also mind his manners.

Lully, cocking her head to one side, seemed to divine something
ofGersen's misgivings. She said breezily: "On the other hand, trag-
edy might stalk us; anything is possible. We might fall down while
we're dancing—"

"Dancing?" inquired Gersen in alarm. Lully seemed not to
hear.

"—and then I'd simply have to try another table until this one
decided that the old ways were best. Are you hungry?"

"Yes indeed."

"So am I. Let me order, because I know exactly what's good."

"By all means," said Gersen. "Whatever you wish."

"First we'll have a dish of relishes and some pickled smelt, then
chipes with black sauce, with a double dish of ramp savouries, and
cottrell cutlets. Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly."

"The chirret is very good here, but perhaps you prefer beer?"

"What is chirret?"

"It's a very nice damson cider and not at all strong. Sometimes
folk make such fools of themselves trying to dance after drinking
Black Barn beer."

"Chirret, then, by all means, although as to the dancing—"

Lully already was signaling a waitress. Like all the other waiters
and waitresses she wore festival peasant costume: a voluminous
black-and-green blouse over a blue skirt with red stockings and
black gaiters. Lully ordered decisively, specifying exactly how the
dishes should be prepared and served. Almost immediately the wait-

THE FACE 723

ress brought a jug of chirret, and next dishes of nuts, salted sea-
flakes, and pickled smelt.

"We're early," said Lully. "The crowd hasn't really arrived. In
an hour there'll be almost too much activity and we'll hardly find
room to dance. First we'll eat and talk. Tell me all about yourself
and the places you've been."

Gersen laughed uneasily. "I hardly know where to start."

"Anywhere will do. I've become interested in eidolology and I
can't at all understand your skarmatics. They're contradictory; you
would seem an unusual man!"

"To the contrary, I'm very ordinary: clumsy and awkward as
well."

"I don't believe a word of it. Incidentally, have you decided to
settle here at Twanish? I do hope so!"

Gersen smiled thoughtfully, reflecting upon Moss Ah-une.
"Sometimes I'm tempted to do so."

Lully sighed. "It must be wonderful to travel the stars! I've
never been anywhere. How many worlds have you visited?"

"I don't know exactly; I've never counted. Dozens and dozens,
at least."

"I'm told that every world is different, that spacemen, even if
they don't know where they are, can look at the sky, smell the air,
and instantly pronounce the name of the planet. Can you do that?"

"Sometimes. But I'd be fooled as often as not. Tell me about
yourself. Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"Three of each. I'm the oldest and the first to take a job. I've
never before considered marriage; I've always had such jolly times,
it seemed a shame to change."

Gersen's sensitive antennae quivered and jerked; he became
more uneasy than ever. "I also intend to avoid marriage for the
foreseeable future. Tell me about your job."

Lully wrinkled her nose. "It was nicer before the Kotzash job.
I liked old Mr. Lemuel Jarkow very well indeed. Mr. SwiatJarkow
is not above making himself familiar."

"Do many Darsh come in to see Mr. Jarkow?"

"Not many; very few in fact."

"Perhaps a large Darsh came in with Mr. Ottile Panshaw."

Lully pursed her lips, shrugged. "I don't remember. Is it im-
portant?"

"I've seen Mr. Panshaw somewhere before. I think on Dar Sai."

724 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Very likely. Kotzash was originally a Darsh company. These
are such mysterious questions. In fact you're a mysterious man. I
wouldn't be surprised if you were with IPCC. Are you?"

"Of course not. If I were, I'd hardly be allowed to advertise it
to the first pretty girl who asked."

"That's true. Still, you certainly don't seem an ordinary tech-
nician."

"When I'm off-duty, my personality changes," said Gersen, in
a strained attempt at facetiousness.

Lully examined him with great intentness. "Why have you
never married? Has no one ever selected you?"

Gersen shook his head. "I wouldn't dare ask anyone to the kind
of life I lead."

After a thoughtful moment Lully said: "AtTwanish it's custom-
ary for the woman to suggest marriage to the man, which is only
proper etiquette. It's different elsewhere, so I'm told."

"Yes, that's quite true." Gersen sought for some way to change
the subject. "I see some Darsh over by the entrance. Do they come
to the Black Barn?"

"Of course! They're asked to sit over yonder, under the ven-
tilator, where their odor won't offend anyone." Lully watched the
two Darsh sidling across the room. "They're almost barbarians.
They never dance but just hunch over their tables gulping food."

"Where do the Methlen sit?"

"Over beside the bandstand. They usually come in carnival cos-
tumes; it's a rather foolish fashion with them. .. . Such a strange
folk, always playing games, acting out parts, pretending and sky-
larking. No doubt it's great fun if you're wealthy and live in Lla-
larkno."

"I should think so. Would you like to marry a Methlen?"

"Small chance! In fact, I'd never dare to ask one; they're ever
so persnickety, don't you agree?"

"Yes indeed."

"They have their own customs of course, but no real etiquette.
Would you marry a Methlen girl if she asked you?"

"It depends on the girl," said Gersen, his mind elsewhere. He
hurriedly amplified his remarks. "Naturally I don't expect to marry
anyone."

Lully gave his arm a little pat of admonishment. "You've got a
good job now; it's time that you settled yourself."

THE FACE

725

Gersen smilingly shook his head. "I'm definitely of the wrong
temperament... . Look: there comes the orchestra."

Lully glanced at the musicians. "It's Denzel and his Seven
Barnswallows. A most peculiar name, since they are only five. I
don't like it when things are misrepresented. Still, they are quite
proficient, especially at step-toes and prances. . . . WTiat are your
favorite dances?"

"I don't know any dances whatever."

"How odd! No patterns, no jigs, no gallops?"

"Not even a slow march."

"We certainly must remedy that! It's simply shameful! I could
never ask you for marriage!" Lully broke into laughter. "On the
other hand, I might go lame, then where would I be with a jigging
husband? . .. Here comes our food, and we don't want to think of
marriage on empty stomachs."

The orchestra, consisting of flatsoon, bass-pipe, guitar, dimple-
horn, and tympanillo, struck up a tune, and folk went forth to
dance. The multiplicity of their techniques amazed Gersen. To the
first tune they performed an intricate whirling reel punctuated by
kicks and leaps. To the next tune they coursed back and forth in a
hopping loose-kneed glide; to the third tune they practiced a series
of evolutions ending with four dancers, backs pressed together and
arms thrown back, performing a high-kneed running-in-place ex-
ercise.

Gersen commented upon the versatility of the dancers. Lully
looked at him with wide-eyed wonder. "I forgot that you're not a
dancer! We do dozens of steps; its considered hacky to dance the
same step twice. Wouldn't you like to learn a simple little polka?"

"Well, no. Not really."

"Kirth Gersen, you're really a shy man! It's time someone took
you in hand. I think that we'll just prescribe dancing lessons for
you, starting tomorrow."

Gersen sought for an adequate reply, but was distracted by the
arrival of a group of Methlen. As Lully had remarked, most of them
wore Pierrot costume, with pompons on their white hats and long
slippers with turned-up toes. They trooped gaily to that area re-
served for their patronage.

Presently some came out to dance, keeping well apart from the
Mongrels. They used a variety of steps, dancing in pairs in a fashion
far less energetic than the mode of the Mongrels.

726 I HF DEMON PRINCES

Gersen scanned the group but saw no one he recognized
Meanwhile Lully talked or this and that, pointing out acquaintances,
explaining dance techniques, commenting upon the delicacy of the
chipes and the excellence of the smelt Gersen tried to divert the
conversation toJarkow's office, with little success

At the conclusion of the meal, with the orchestra playing a
merry tune and the dancers performing an intricate interweaving at
a fast skipping pace, Lully became restless She turned shining eyes
upon Gersen "Tomorrow evening I'll teach you this step'"

Gersen shook his head. "I can't possibly be on hand "

Lully spoke in a reproachful voice "You are seeing another
girP"

"Of course not," scoffed Gersen "I have a business appoint-
ment."

"Then the next night' I'll prepare a little supper and we can
make a good start "

"I'd make a poor student," said Gersen "In fact, I suffer from
dizzy fits, dancing would certainly bring them on "

"You are joking with me," said Lully sadly "You are seeing
another woman, there can be no reasonable doubt "

Gersen searched for new excuses, but was interrupted by the
arrival of one of Lully's friends, a young man wearing a stylish suit
of tan and black.

"Why aren't you dancing^" he asked Lully "The orchestra is
at its best."

"My friend doesn't dance," said Lully

"What^^ Surely he wouldn't want you to waste your evening'
Come, they're starting Stampede of the Gollnvogs "

"Do you mind5" Lully asked Gersen

"Not at all'"

Lully and her friend went briskly out upon the floor and soon
were participating earnestly in the dance Gersen watched a mo-
ment without great interest. His mind wandered, he leaned back in
his chair contemplating the stagnant state of his affairs Doubts,
indecisions, reverses hindered him everywhere He had lost the
initiative against Lens Larque, who indeed was now moving against
Gersen himself The danger had become imminent So far he had
evaded the rather casual attempts to capture him, no doubt they
would become more direct If Lens Larque grew impatient, a silver
of glass projected from across the street would instantly abate the

THE FACE 727

nuisance created by Gersen's activities As of now, Lens Larque
would seem only irked and resentful, Gersen might expect possibly
another day before Lens Larque set to work in earnest ..

Gersen's reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a second
group of Methlen He wondered if Jerdian had returned to Lla-
larkno, and he wondered if he would see her    Almost as he
thought her name she turned and he saw her face Like her friends
she wore carnival costume a snug white garment covering her from
neck to feet, with blue pompons down the front, eccentric slippers,
and a conical white hat topped by a pale blue pompon, pulled at a
tilt halfway down across her dark curls She looked so fresh and
appealing and innocently gay that Gersen's heart rose up in his
throat.

Without troubling to think he rose to his feet and crossed the
room She turned her head and saw him, for a moment they looked
eye to eye. Her party had now started off across the room, Jerdian
hesitated, darted a quick glance after her friends, then came to
where Gersen stood in the shadows. She spoke in a husky whisper.
"WTiat are you doing here71"

"For one thing I've been hoping to see you " Gersen put his
hands under her arms, drew her close, and kissed her After a mo-
ment she disengaged herself and drew back "I thought I'd never
see you again'"

Gersen laughed "And I knew that you would Do you love me

StilP"

"Yes, of course    I don't know what to tell you."

"Can you leave your group and go off with me2"

"Now3 It wouldn't be possible I'd cause a scandal " She looked
across the room "In a moment my escort will come to find me "

"He'll think you've gone to the rest room "

"Perhaps so. What an undignified pretext for meeting a secret
lover'"

"Can I meet you later tonight, when you've left here7"

Jerdian shook her head "We're planning a midnight supper for
guests, I couldn't possibly escape "

"Then tomorrow, at noon."

"Very well, but where2 You can't come to Oldenwood, my fa-
ther would be ungracious "

"In front of Moss Alrune, on the side facing the lake "

728 THE DEMON PRINCF.S

She looked at him in surprise. "We can't meet there; it's a
private property!"

"Nevertheless it's vacant and no one will molest us."

"Very well then. I'll be there." She looked over her shoulder.
"Now I must go." Again she looked over her shoulder. "Quick."
She stepped close to him and raised her face; they embraced. Ger-
sen kissed her once, twice; then, breathless and half-laughing, she
pulled away. "Until tomorrow noon!" She went quickly off after
her party.

Gersen, turning, met the shocked and unfriendly gaze of Lully
Inkelstaff, just emerging from the passage leading to the ladies' rest
room. Wordlessly she swept off to the table she had shared with
Gersen, snatched up handbag and cloak, and marched away to join
her friends.

Gersen gave a rueful shrug. "At the very least, I've avoided
tomorrow's dancing lesson."

16

Gersen paid off the score and departed the Black Barn. To one
side a half dozen cabs awaited passengers. The cab first in line
carried a faded white stripe along the skirt. Gersen casually turned
away, and stood as if awaiting someone from within. How had he
been tracked to the Black Barn? Had he been tagged with a tracer?
Perhaps a daub of stuff which, in response to a search ray, returned
a signal? . . . Tonight he would scrupulously bathe and change all
his clothes.

Tonight—if he arrived at his hotel alive. Most definitely he
would use none of the cabs along the rank. Gersen sauntered slowly
back and forth with an air of a man preoccupied; arriving at an area
where he could no longer see the cabs, he ran off down the road
to Twanish.

The night was clear and dark. Constellations strange to Gersen
hung in the sky and showed the road as a pale ribbon with dark
fields to either side. As Gersen ran his body seemed to come alive;

his whole soul expanded. This was the existence he was meant for
and where he felt easy: running through the night across a strange
world, with danger behind and himself the very embodiment of
retaliatory danger. His vapors and dreary misgivings were gone; he
felt the Gersen of old. . . . Against the sky loomed a tall copse of
trees. Gersen stopped short to listen. From the Black Barn, now
almost a quarter mile distant, he heard the whisper of music, and
saw the lights of a cab. Gersen looked to the side of the road op-
posite the trees. He saw a shallow ditch and, beyond, a clump of
weeds. He jumped the ditch and flung himself flat behind the
weeds.

The cab came at speed, lights blazing along the road. Coming

7-tO THE DFMON PRINCFS

abreast of the trees, the cab stopped abruptly, almost beside Gersen.
But the attention of the driver and occupants was fixed upon the
trees, not the clump of weeds which barely concealed Gersen.

The driver spoke in a soft voice "He's not down the road. He
couldn't have come much farther."

From the compartment stepped three men; Gersen could see
only their silhouettes in the glow reflected back from the headlights.

The driver spoke again: "He's hiding in the trees, unless he
took to the fields."

One of the passengers, a short squat man, spoke in a plangent
bass. "Turn so the lights shine into the trees."

The driver did so, backing the cab almost into the ditch.

The short squat man said, "Ang, around to the right. Dotty,
around to the left. Keep out of the light, get him alive That's
important. Bird wants him alive."

Gersen rose up from behind the weeds. Soundlessly he jumped
the ditch. Climbing the two steps to the control booth, he thrust
his adder-tongue stiletto into the nape of the driver's neck. Pincers
cut the vertebral nerve, inducing instant death. Gersen lowered the
corpse into the foot-space, and seated himself at the controls. The
short man stood in the road to the left of the cab: a man with whom
Gersen wanted earnest and candid conversation.

Three minutes passed. Gersen sat with his silver pistol in hand,
waiting. Ang and Dofty emerged from the trees. They walked for-
ward into light from the cab: Ang, a crooked angular young man
with a long high-bridged nose and a short black beard; Dotty, burly
and baby-faced with eyes peering through slits Gersen had often
met their like Beyond, in disreputable backstreet taverns or working
at their trade, as now

The short squat man took an impatient step forward. "Noth-
ing^"

"He's not there," said Ang.

Gersen waited until the two were close in front of the cab; then,
with neither qualm nor compunction, he discharged his weapon
once, twice, driving splinters of explosive glass through the fore-
heads of Ang and Dotty, and once again at the short man's elbow
as he spun around. The short man's gun dropped upon the road.

Gersen )umped down from the driver's seat. "I'm the man
you're looking for "

THE FACE 731

The short man said nothing, but stared at Gersen, his face con-
torted in pain

Gersen spoke in the most casual of voices "Have you ever seen
a man die by cluthe3 No7 Yes3 You can choose cluthe, or I'll shoot
you in the head. Which3"

"Shoot," whispered the short man.

"Then answer my questions. If you had caught me, what were
you to do with me3"

"Bind you with tape and take you to a shed."

"Then what3"

"I would call for instructions."

"Who gives you instructions3"

The short man merely stared. Gersen stepped forward, his hand
in a glove. He raised his hand, extended his arm. "Quick!"

"The Bird."

"Lens Larque3"

"You said the name."

"Where is he now3"

"I don't know. I take my orders by radio."

From the direction of the Black Barn came new lights. The
short man lunged toward Gersen, who shot him accurately in the
forehead. Gersen carefully replaced the fearful glove in its socket,
then turning away, saw in the reflected light a weathered white
stripe around the base of the cab. He ran oft down the road toward
Twanish.

The cab from the Black Barn, finding its way obstructed, halted.
Gersen, pausing to look back over his shoulder, saw the driver and
occupants alight, to stare in horror at the corpses.

At the Capricorn Cafe, overlooking Redemption Park, halfway be-
tween the Commercial Hotel and Skohune Tower, Gersen sat with
a pot of tea assessing the events of the evening. His mood, he was
pleased to note, had become less troubled. Activity had flushed the
stagnant channels of his mind. The four killings3 He regretted only
that he had teased so little information from the short man. He
thought ofJerdian and felt a warm excitement, he thought ofLully
and laughed aloud. . . Under Lully's desk at Jarkow Engineering
reposed the recording apparatus he had installed so short a time
before. Directed into the Kotzash office it now served no purpose.

732 THE DEMON PRINCES

Much more advantageous if it could record conversations at Jar-
kow's office.

Gersen looked toward Skohune Tower, which at this hour
showed only the dim illumination of night bulbs.

Gersen finished his tea. He went to the hotel, picked up his
bag of equipment, returned to the street, and sauntered across the
park to Skohune Tower The lobby was empty. He rode the ascen-
sor to the third floor and using his key to room 308, entered the
offices ofJarkow Engineering.

Just inside the door he halted to listen. No sound, no indication
of human presence He stepped into Lully's cubicle, where he found
and detached the recorder unit. Optimally, so he decided, the sound
probe should be located in Jarkow's office.

Gersei installed the microphone under Jarkow's desk, where he
discovered a set of implements which startled him. Gersen recalled
an old aphorism- "He who sups with the devil should use a long
spoon." Jarkow, working as he did with Lens Larque, had installed
several versions of the "long spoon" where it could help him most.

Gersen worked quickly and efficiently, and in half an hour ar-
ranged the system to his satisfaction, with the recorder attached to
the Kotzash telephone and microphones at vantage places around
the room. He packed his tools, and started to leave, but at the
draftman's office stopped short. He opened the door and looked in,
to find the usual paraphernalia: plotting machines, superficial in-
tegrators, automatic scnbers, a pattern library. Work in process lay
spread out on a table page after page of charts, columns, and rows
of figures. Each page carried a notation Section 1A, Section 1B,
with the last page labeled Section 20F. Under the table Gersen saw
a pair of peculiar ob)ects- the first an irregular mass of chalky sub-
stance about a foot in diameter. The surface had been marked off
into approximately one hundred areas, each labeled in black ink,
after the same scheme as the pages had been labeled. The second
ob)ect was an expanded replica of the first, made of a light trans-
parent substance, and similarly limned into small areas Under the
surface ran a myriad scarlet threads, curving, bending, twisting,
humping, in no obvious order or pattern.

Most odd, thought Gersen. He picked up the object, looked at
it this way and that. Most odd. Most curious. . . . Gersen gave a
sudden cry of uncontrollable laughter.

Was such remarkable and magnificent foolishness possible^ He

THE FACE 733

thought back across the months, and a hundred items of informa-
tion suddenly ranged themselves into coherent order

Gersen replaced the transparent object He took his case and
left the offices ofJarkow Engineering He had achieved his purpose.
Conversations to be recorded in Jarkow's office could not fail but
be interesting

Without incident Gersen returned to the hotel The tattletale
he had arranged on the door to his room was in place and undis-
turbed. Gersen entered, closed and locked the door, bathed, and
went to bed.

Gersen spent a restless night. Faces floated through his mind Lens
Larque the caricatures, drawings, and blurred photograph. Poor
broken Tintle and his spouse, Daswell Tippm, Ottile Panshaw, Bel
Ruk, Lully Inkelstaff, Jerdian Chanseth

In the morning Gersen ordered breakfast up to his room, then,
assailed by doubts, ate none of it. Dressing with care, he descended
to the ground floor, slipped out upon the Mall, went to the Cap-
ricorn Cafe, and there took his breakfast Today was to be an im-
portant day. At noon to Moss Alrune and Jerdian. Later—who
knows5 Possibly a meeting with Lens Larque He returned to the
hotel and went up to his room. The tattletale had been disturbed.
Putting his ear to the door Gersen heard a set of odd sounds With
the most exaggerated delicacy he slid the door a)ar, to find a cham-
bermaid setting his room to rights

He entered, bade her good morning, a few minutes later she
withdrew Gersen immediately went to the telephone. He called
the Kotzash office and activated the recording device. To his ear
came those four conversations which had been recorded that morn-
ing. First, a call from Zerus Belsamt of Stellar Fortress Security
Association, requesting conversation with Mr Jarkow

"Sorry," said Lully in a pert voice "Mr Jarkow is not present."

"When do you expect him5"

"I don't know, sir. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Please mention that I called, and I'll try again tomorrow."

"Very ^ ell, sir"

Next to be heard was a call from Jarkow inquiring for Ottile
Panshaw

"He hasn't been in, sir "

"What2" Jarkow's tone was sharp. "Has he left a message5"

734 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Not a word! No one's called but a Mr. Zerus Belsaint who
wants to consult you."

"A Mr. Zerus who?"

"Mr. Zerus Belsaint of the Stellar Fortress Security Association.
May I tell him when you'll be able to see him?"

"I'll be in this afternoon late, but I won't talk with Belsaint.
He'll have to wait. If Panshaw calls, have him come to the office
and don't let him leave."

"Yes, sir."

Gersen next listened to Lully's private conversation with a
friend, where he learned more than he cared to know. Lully de-
scribed her previous evening's adventures, using images and meta-
phors which Gersen found unflattering. "And with a Methlen girl,
would you believe it?" Lully's voice was pitched in tones of outrage.
"I can't imagine what sort of a man he is! I gave him a most awful
look, simply withered him! Then I went off with Nary. We danced
three suites and a great gallop. And that's not all! On the way home,
we came upon a frightful murder—in fact, four murders, of a cab-
driver and three passengers. They lay around the road like so many
dog carcasses. I've had a night I won't forget!"

"Who was the Methlen girl?"

"That giddy Chanseth bit. You see her everywhere."

"Yes, I know of her."

The conversation ended, and the final call came through: from
Motry, Jarkow's works superintendent. "Mr. Jarkow, please."

"He's not here yet. He'll be in later today."

"I'm just down from Shanitra. I called in to report final check-
out. He can pass the word on to his principals. Will you give him
the message?"

"Certainly, Mr. Motry."

"Don't forget now!"

"Naturally I won't forget! In fact, I'll put a note on his desk
this minute."

"That's the system! Quite proper, my girl! I'll look into the
office tomorrow morning."

"Very good, Mr. Motry. I'll tell Mr. Jarkow."

Thereafter the line was dead. Gersen sat back in the chair and
reflected. Today must be the day. He looked out the window. The
weather was cool, with Cora-light slanting down from an autumnal
sky. The uplands of Llalarkno showed indistinct through haze; the

THE FACE 735

town, the park, the entire landscape seemed suffused with a mel-
ancholy serenity, which Gersen found consonant with his own
mood. Problems had been solved; mysteries had revealed them-
selves to an effect so ludicrous, cruel, and wild that Gersen's mind
veered away.

Gersen considered the conversations he had overheard. Jarkow
expected important visitors during the afternoon: who could they
be? .. . His thoughts shifted to Jerdian Chanseth, and brought him
a twinge of hollow uncertainty. What would she be thinking? Now,
this very instant? Gersen, so astute, crafty, and resourceful, found
himself besieged by doubts and anxieties. He saw her as he had seen
her first, in her dark green frock and dark green stockings, the dark
hair curling over her ears and across her forehead. Her only notice
of him had been a haughty glance; how different now their rela-
tionship! Gersen's heart melted within him. . . . He checked the
time: less than an hour to noon, not too early to set out for Moss
Almne.

Gersen considered the cabs waiting near-the hotel. Unlikely
that any of these could be considered threats; nevertheless, he
crossed the park and flagged down a cab cruising the street. As
always, he discovered resistance, and the driver consented to the
journey only when Gersen agreed to sit far back in the shadow of
the interior where he could not be seen.

In the road by Moss Alrune Gersen alighted and paid the fare;

the driver wasted no time in departing.

Gersen walked back along the road to the entrance arch. Great
trees of a type unknown to him overhung the stone wall and cast a
dapple shade; the air was still and silent. To right and left of the
arch, stone pillars supported the busts of nymphs cast in bronze;

their eyes looked unseeingly down at him.

He passed under the arch and into the grounds. The driveway
curved up to a broad portico; beyond, a path led off around the
house into the gardens, where Gersen so far had not explored. He
walked among confections of flowering shrubs and carefully
groomed trees, and presently came to a low stone wall. On the
other side spread the grounds of Oldenwood. Gerson looked out
across the lawn, now occupied by a pair of small dark-haired girls,
naked except for white skimmer hats decorated with flowers. They
saw Gersen and paused to stare. Their frolicking became more se-
date. Presently they ran off to a more secluded area.

736 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen turned back the way he had come, wondering if ever
his own children would run so blissfully across the lawns of Moss
Alrune.... He went around to the front of the house. On the steps
satJerdian, looking pensively across the water. She rose to her feet;

he put his arms gently around her and kissed her; she acquiesced,
without fervor.

For a few minutes they stood; then Gersen said: "Have you
spoken of me to your family?"

Jerdian laughed sadly. "My father does not think well of you."

"He hardly knows me. Shall I go talk to him?"

"Oh no! He'd be frigid.... I really don't know what to say. All
last night I thought about you and myself, and all this morning. . ..
I'm still confused."

"I've been thinking too. I see three possible courses. We can
take leave of each other, finally and forever. Or you can come away
with me—now, if you like. Tomorrow we'll leave Methel and go
off across space."

Jerdian sighed and gave her head a slow dismal shake. "You
don't know what it is to be Methlen. I'm a part of Llalarkno, just
as if I had grown here, like a tree. I'd be forever lonely away from
my home, no matter how much I loved you."

"Or I could stay here on Methel and make my home here, with

you.

Jerdian looked at him dubiously. "Would you really do that for

mer

"I have no other home. Llalarkno appeals to me; why shouldn't
I live here?"

Jerdian smiled ruefully. "It's not all that simple. Outworlders
aren't often made welcome, if ever. We're very exclusive, as I'm
sure you know."

"I've already arranged that part of it. We already own a home."

"Here? On Methel?"

Gersen nodded. "Moss Alrune. I bought it yesterday."

Jerdian looked at him in amazement. "The price was a million
SVTJ! I thought you, well, a poor adventurer—a spaceman!"

"So I am, after a fashion. But hardly poor. I could buy a dozen
Moss Alrunes and not even notice it."

"I'm bewildered."

"I hope you don't think the worse of me for not being poor."

THE FACE 737

"No. Not really. You're more of a mystery than ever. Why did
you risk your life fighting that great Darsh at hadaul?"

"Because it had to be done."

"But why?"

"Tomorrow I'll tell you everything. Today—the time isn't
quite right."

She looked at him searchingly. "You're not a criminal? Or a
pirate?"

"I'm not even a banker."

Jerdian, looking past Gersen, became rigid. A furious voice
called out: "Hoy there, fellow! What are you doing here? Jerdian!
Whatever is this?" Without waiting for an answer Adario Chanseth
signaled to a pair of burly footmen. "Take this fellow and pitch
him into the street."

The footmen advanced confidently. A moment later one lay
facedown in a flower bed, the other sat nearby numbly holding his
bleeding face. Gersen said: "You threw me out of your bank, Mr.
Chanseth, but this is my properly and I don't care to be molested."

"WTiat do you mean, your property?"

"I bought Moss Alrune yesterday."

Chanseth uttered a harsh laugh. "You bought nothing very
much. Have vou read the Llalarkno charter? No? Then you are in
for a surprise. Llalarkno is a private domain, and retains basic own-
ership in perpetuity. You bought no title; you bought what is in
effect a lease, which must be validated by the Llalarkno Trustees.
I am one of these. I don't want your outlander face hanging over
my garden wall, staring at my children, no more than I'd tolerate
that Darsh blackguard."

Gersen looked at Jerdian, who stood with her hands twisting
and tears running down her cheeks. Chanseth glanced at her. "So
that's the way of it, eh? A romantic drama. Well, put the role away
and out of your head. You're a wayward little creature; your imag-
ination leads you into situations which you can't control. The
drama is over; here you must stop. It is time you were learning
propriety. Go home at once."

"Just a moment," said Gersen. He went to Jerdian and stood
looking down into her tear-stained face. "You don't need to obey
him. You can come with me—if you choose to do so."

Jerdian said in a low voice, "He's probably right. I'm a Methlen

738 THE DEMON PRINCES

and I'll never be anything else. I suppose I might as well face up
to it Good-bye, Kirth Gersen "

Gersen bowed stiffly "Good-bye " He turned to Adano Chan-
seth, who stood stonily nearby, but could find no words to express
his feelings He turned on his heel, strode down the drive, passed
under the arch, and the bronze nymphs gazed down with blind eyes

The road was empty Gersen walked southward toward Twan-
ish, with the grounds of Oldenwood to his right He turned a single
glance across the sloping lawn The two little girls, now wearing
frocks, noticed his passage and paused in their play to watch Ger-
sen continued, through the quiet woods, at last down the slope to
the Mall, and around to the Capricorn Cafe He felt hungry, thirsty,
tired, and depressed, he threw himself down at a table and made a
meal of bread and meat, then sat with a pot of tea, staring across
the park

The episode had run its course Emotions, hopes, gallant re-
solves all past and gone like sparks on the wind

The pattern, Gersen reflected, was that of a simple tragicomedy
in two acts tensions, conflicts, confrontations on Dar Sai, a brief
interlude while the settings were shifted, a surge to the climax at
Moss Alrune The dynamic thrust to the production had been pro-
vided by Gersen's folly How absurd to think of himself against the
bucolic background of Moss Alrune, participating in the Methlen
frivolities, no matter what his wistful yearnings' He was Kirth Ger-
sen, obsessed by inner imperatives which might never be satisfied

The drama was ended The tensions had resolved, the matters
at conflict had settled into equilibrium with a ponderous lurching
finality Gersen managed a bitter smile as he sipped his tea Jerdian
would not suffer very long, or very painfully

Gersen rose to his feet and went to the hotel He bathed,
changed into spaceman's gear He called his recording device, and
heard another of Lully's personal calls, to a Nary Balbroke, and
another call from Jarkow, again inquiring after Ottile Panshaw, in
a sharper voice than before

"He's not called, Mr Jarkow "

"Very strange He's not in the office next door^"

"The office has been empty all day, sir "

"Very well, I won't be m until late afternoon, I've got some
important business You go home at your usual time If Panshaw
calls, leave me a note."

THE FACE 739

"Yes, Mr Jarkow "

Gersen switched off the communicator He looked at his chro-
nometer Lully would presently be leaving the office

Gersen made his preparations, checking and recheckmg with
meticulous patience Satisfied at last he departed the hotel and
walked across the park, arriving at Skohune Tower (ust in time to
see Lully trot briskly out upon the street and march off up the Mall
Gersen went into the building, rode the ascensor to the third floor,
and went directly to room 308

He put his ear to the door No sound Inserting his key he slid
the door open and surveyed the interior The rooms were empty
He stepped into the reception room and closed the door

He went toJarkow's office and looked inside Empty, as before
Gersen crossed the hall to the drafting room, and seated himself to
the side

He waited Half an hour passed The shafts of Cora-light en-
tering by the west windows began to approach the horizontal

Gersen grew tense The seconds went past with an almost au-
dible thudding

He became tired of sitting He went to stand where he could
look through the glass partition, both toward the outer door and,
by turning his head, into Jarkow's office The situation was not to
his satisfaction, he felt overly conspicuous Closing the door, he
dropped to his knee and with his knife cut a small slit m the lower
panel, allowing him a slantwise view intoJarkow's office.

Steps in the hall Gersen listened a single man Whoever might
be Jarkow's "important visitor," he had not yet arrived

The door slid back, into the outer orfice stepped Jarkow Ger-
sen, standing behind a cabinet, watched through a niche in a stack
of books

Jarkow came into the office carrying a small case He stopped,
looked into Lully's cubicle, scowled An ugly harsh-looking man,
thought Gersen, rendered even more so by his elaborate blond hair-
piece. But by no means a man to be taken lightly Muttering under
his breath, Jarkow went heavy-footed to his office Gersen dropped
to his knees and out ot sight

Looking through a slit, Gersen saw Jarkow go to his desk,
where he opened the case and brought out a black box surmounted
by an amber button Jarkow placed the box in the precise center of

740 THE DEMON PRINCES

his desk, then went to sit in his chair. He leaned back, turned to
look moodily out of the window across the park toward Llalarkno.

Gersen stepped out of his hiding place and into the hall.Jarkow
heard a sound; he jerked about to see Gersen entering his office.
His heavy eyebrows lowered, his yellow-gray eyes became narrow.
For a moment he and Gersen stared at each other. Gersen took
three slow steps forward, so that he stood almost in front of the
desk.

Finally Jarkow spoke: "Well, who are you?"

"My name is Kirth Gersen. Have you ever heard of me?"

Jarkow gave his head a jerk. "I know something of you."

"I took Kotzash away from Panshaw. I instructed him to halt
all proceedings on Shanitra. Presumably he notified you."

Jarkow nodded slowly. "He did so indeed. Why have you gone
to such effort?"

"To begin with, I wanted the Kotzash money. Yesterday I
transferred almost five million SVU to my own account."

Jarkow's eyes narrowed even further. "In that case, I will render
my bill to you."

"Don't trouble yourself."

Jarkow seemed not to hear the remark. He took the black box
from the center of his desk and moved it to the window ledge beside
his chair. "So: what do you want with me?"

"A few moments' conversation. Are you expecting company?"

"Perhaps."

"We'll have time for a chat. Let me tell you something about
myself. I was born at a place called Mount Pleasant, which was
subsequently destroyed by a syndicate of slavers. One of the group
was a certain Lens Larque: a murderer, thief, and general black-
guard. This Lens Larque is Darsh, and originally bore the name
Husse Bugold. He became an outcast, a 'rachepol,' and lost an ear.
His other ear he lost only recently, at Tintle's Shade in Rath Ei-
leann. How do I know? I cut it off myself, Madame Tintle probably
cooked it into next day's ahagaree."

In Jarkow's eyes yellow lights were flickering. He rose suddenly
to his feet. In a well-modulated voice he said: "Your language of-
fends me, inasmuch as I myself am Lens Larque."

"I am aware of this," said Gersen. "I have come to kill you."

Lens Larque reached under the lip of his desk. "We shall see
who kills whom. First I will break your legs." He squeezed, but no

THE FACE 741

answering fan of power spurted forth; Gersen had disconnected the
circuitry' during his visit.

Lens Larque muttered a guttural curse and from his pocket
drew a weapon. Gersen fired his own pistol, exploded the weapon
out of Lens Larque's hand. Lens Larque roared in pain. Lurching
around the desk he threw himself forward. Gersen swept up a chair,
thrust it into Lens Larque's face. Lens Larque thrust it aside with
a sweep of bull-strong arms. Gersen stepped close, kneed Lens
Larque's abdomen, slapped the back of Lens Larque's neck with
his right hand. He stepped back, ducked a massive blow, then
kicked Lens Larque's knee, pulled him off balance, and sent him
sprawling to the floor, where the blond hairpiece fell away to reveal
a ridged skin-bald scalp and vacant ear-holes.

Gersen leaned on the edge of the desk and pointed his pistol
at Lens Larque's midriff. "You are about to die. I wish I could kill
you a dozen times."

"Panshaw betrayed me."

"Panshaw is gone," said Gersen. "He betrayed no one."

"Then how did you know me?"

"I saw your face in the other room. I know your plan, and why
you used Kotzash. All to no avail."

Lens Larque clenched his muscles and tried to seize Gersen's
feet, but performed only a feeble cramped movement. He stared up
at Gersen. "WTiat have you done to me?"

"I have poisoned you with cluthe. The back of your neck is
now burning. Your arms and legs are already paralyzed. In ten
minutes you will be dead. As you die, think of the harm you have
inflicted upon innocent people."

Lens Larque gasped. "The box yonder—give it to me."

"No. I take pleasure in thwarting your plans. Remember Mount
Pleasant? There you killed my father and my mother."

"Take the box," whispered Lens Larque. "Pull the guard back;

press the button."

"No," said Gersen. "Never."

Lens Larque began to thrash across the floor as his viscera
knotted and cramped. Gersen went to the reception room and
waited. The minutes passed. The sounds continued as Lens
Larque's muscles coiled, knotted, and pulled in different directions.
His breath came in stertorous gasps. After nine minutes he lay

742 THE DEMON PRINCES

twisted in a grotesque contortion. At ten minutes he ceased to
breathe, and a minute later he was dead.

Gersen, sitting on the reception chair, drew a deep breath, and
released it. He felt old, sad, and tired.

Time passed. Gersen rose to his feet, went back into that room
he had known asJarkow's office. Twilight was deepening to night.
Over Llalarkno rose the moon Shanitra, in its full phase.

Gersen picked up the black box. He held it a moment, weighing
it, feeling its power. Contrary impulses thrust at him. He remem-
bered Adario Chanseth's austere face. Gersen laughed mirthlessly.
Lens Larque had labored long to achieve his most sardonic trick.
Should such toil and expense be wasted, especially since Gersen
shared all of Lens Larque's motivations?

"No," said Gersen. "Of course not."

He slid back the guard sleeve and put his finger on the amber
button.

He pushed.

The surface of Shanitra erupted: chunks fell away with majestic
deliberation; fragments sprayed in different directions; a cloud of
dust created a nimbus glowing in the Cora-light.

The dust dissipated. The disrupted material settled into new
configurations. The irregular surface of Shanitra had now taken on
the similitude of Lens Larque's face: the earlobes long, the scalp
bald, the mouth twisted into a leer of idiotic mirth.

Gersen went to the communicator. He called Oldenwood and
was put into contact with Adario Chanseth.

Chanseth peered at the screen. "Who is calling?"

"Go out into your back garden," said Gersen. "There's a great
Darsh face hanging over the garden wall."

Gersen broke the connection. He left Skohune Tower and went
to the hotel, where he paid his bill and departed.

A cab took him to the spaceport. He went out to his Fantamic
Flitterwing, climbed aboard, and departed the planet Methel.

From The Book of Dream\

Raise your eyes, stranger, to that age-worn rampart
which confronts all else there stand the paladins, stern,
grave, serene Each is one, each is all

At the center is Imrrur of the graces He controls certain
sleights of magic, he is master of ploys and plots and awful
surprises He is Immir the unpredictable and claims no sin-
gle color

At Immir's right hand stands Jeha Rais, who is tall in ma)-
esty and whose color is black He is sagacious and always
first to notice a far event, for which he construes eventu-
alities Then he points his finger, to direct the gaze of the
other paladins He is without qualm and advocates dcci
siveness Sometimes he is known as "Jsha the Inexorable "
He wears a black garment, supple and close as his skin, a
black cape and a black morion, fixed at the crest with an
orb of crystal in a silver star-blaze

At Immir's left hand stands Lons Hohenger, whose color
is the red of new blood He is the feroce, impulsive and
reckless, and ever reluctant to leave the slaying grounds,
though of all the paladins he can be most generous He
lusts after fair women and they deny him at great risk to
their dignity Should they make complaint or give chiding,
his redress is even more fulsome. When finally he lea\es

THE DEMON PRINCES

the bed their voices are still and they look longingly after
him.

Green Mewness stands beside Loris Hohenger. Expert in
skills is Mewness. He can fling a bridge or topple a tower;

he is patient, cunning, and if the road is closed to right and
left, he finds a way between. His memory is exact; he never
forgets a face or a name and he knows the ways of a hun-
dred worlds. Soft men of wealth think him ingenuous in his
dealings, to their ultimate consternation.

Yellow Spangleway is wry, astonishing, and ignores every
precedent. He is antic and droll, and able in the acting of
roles. All the paladins, save only one, laugh to see his capers;

when the time is appropriate all—save only one—dance to
his musics, for Spangleway can elicit sweet sounds from a
dangling pig, should he so choose to turn his skills. Never
think to match Spangleway jape for jape, since his knife is
even keener than his wit. In battle, the enemy cries out:

"Where is the laggard Spangleway?" or: "Aha! The coward
Spangleway takes to his heels'" only to have him on their
necks from a new direction, or in some shocking guise.

Beside Jeha Rais stands gentle Rhune Fader the Blue. In
battle, though he is dauntless and first to succor a hard-
pressed paladin, he is also first to urge mercy and forbear-
ance. He is slim, tall, clear of feature, and handsome as the
summer sunrise; he is skilled in the arts and graces and
sensitive to beauty in all things, especially the beauty of shy
maidens upon whom he casts a glamour. Alas, in the battle
councils the voice of Rhune Fader carries little weight.

Beside blue Rhune, and a little apart, stands eerie white Eia
Panice, whose hair, eyes, long teeth, and skin are white. He
wears a full casque of white metal and little of his face can
be seen: a high-bridged hooked nose, a harsh chin, gleam-
ing eyes. In the councils he speaks, for the most part, either
"yea" or "nay," but more often than not his word decides
the issue, for he seems to know the ways of Destiny. Alone
among the paladins he is unmoved by the droll contrivances
of Spangleway. Indeed, on those occasions when his grim
smile is seen, then is the time for all who can to depart and

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

never look back lest they discover the limpid gaze of Eia
Panice fixed into their own.

So then, stranger, go your way. When at last you make your
homecoming, wherever it may be among the sparkling
worlds, bring report of those who stand brooding yonder.

From The Demon Princes—Caril Carphen:

... we turn the focus of our attention upon Howard
Alan Treesong, his wry exploits and the incredible virtu-
osity of his organizational genius. At the outset let me, in
all candor, confess my awe and perplexity: I do not know
where to start. He is possibly the greatest rogue of all (if,
in that perfervid ambience surrounding the Demon Princes,
such niceties of comparison carry any shred of conviction).
Certainly he is attended by the most extravagant contradic-
tions. His cruelty is wanton and horrid, so that his occa-
sional magnanimities are cast into sharp relief. Judged by
the elaborate methodtcalness of his programs, he would
seem passionless, absolutely logical. Against a different per-
spective, he is seen to be volatile and as frivolous as a circus
clown. He is a mystery, and his ultimate purposes cannot
even be guessed.

Howard Alan Treesong! A name of magic, instilling dread
and wonder! W^hat, precisely, is known of him? The few
nodes of fact are made ambiguous by a luminous dust of
rumor. He is declared to be the most solitary person alive;

by other reports he is the ultimate ruler of all criminals.
His person is said to be unremarkable: tall, thin, with well-
shaped if gaunt features and pale gray eyes of exceptional
clarity. His expression is often described as droll and his
manner vivacious. He dresses most usually in ordinary gar-
ments, without ostentation. By all accounts he enjoys the
company of beautiful women, none of whom seems to profit
from the association either spiritually or financially. To the
contrary, the romances of which anything is known all end
tragically, if not worse.

748 THE DEMON PRINCES

The events which finally brought Howard Alan Treesong to bay
ran an erratic course—twisting, forking, making confused halts and
unlikely linkages—a consequence of the mystery in which Treesong
shrouded himself. According to the few extant descriptions, Tree-
song stood rather taller than ordinary with a luminous gaze, a broad
forehead, a narrow jaw and chin, and a foxy rueful mouth. His
manner was usually described as gracious with a metallic undertone.
Almost every account mentioned a "curious field of suppressed en-
ergy," or "unpredictable extravagance," and in one case the word
"madness" was used.

Treesong's obsession with mystery extended far. No photo-
graphs, representations, or likenesses were known to exist, on or
off the public record. His origins were unknown; his private life
was as secret as the far end of the universe; he regularly disappeared
from public notice for years on end.

Treesong's zone of operations encompassed the Oikumene; he
rarely ventured Beyond. He was known to have used for himself
the title "Lord of the Overmen."*

Gersen picked up the track of Howard Alan Treesong essen-
tially by dint of abstract reasoning—pure deduction in the classical
pattern—using information supplied by one Walter Koedelin, an
old-time associate and now a Senior Officer of the IPCC.2

The two met in Sailmaker Beach, to the north of Avente, the
metropolis of Alphanor, first among Rigel's Concourse of Worlds.

Chancy's Tea House at the top of Sailmaker Beach overlooked a
thousand small houses, shops, taverns, and a small plaza used by a
hundred kinds of people. Each structure was washed a different
color: pale blue, pale green, lavender, pink, white, yellow, and each
cast a stark black shadow to the crackling Rigel-glare. Far below
could be seen a small crescent of beach. Beyond, the Thaumaturge
Ocean, soft dark blue, extended to the horizon, where floated pin-
nacles of white cumulus.

1. The allusion is perhaps explained in a paragraph from an interview in which Freesong
stated "Men exploit animals to their needs and think nothing of the process So-called
criminals exploit die ordinary ruck to their needs in die same manner, employ ing equal
morality, hence criminals are properly to be known as 'Overmen ' "
2 Intei-world Police Coordinating Company originally a small bureau, collecung and
collating information for the various police organizations of the Oikumene, gradually- ex-
panding, diversifying, and undertaking special missions, at last to become die largest and
most efficient law-enforcement agency of the human universe

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 749

At a table shaded under a dense growth of dark green memaris
sat Kirth Gersen and Walter Koedelin, a sandy-haired, pink-
skinned man somewhat more stocky than Gersen, with a short-
nosed, big-jawed face. Like Gersen, he wore spaceman's dark blue
and gray, the costume for folk who hoped to avoid attention. The
two men drank rum punch and discussed Howard Alan Treesong.

In the company of Gersen, Koedelin spoke without restraint.
"What is he up to now? That's a real puzzle. Ten years ago he
called himself 'Lord of the Overmen.* "

"In effect, 'King of Thieves.' "

"Exactly. He licensed every illicit act from Far Edge to Tan-
giers Old Socco. One rime Howard walked a backstreet in Bug-
town, on Arccurus IV, and a mugger jumped out. Howard asked:

'Are you registered with the Organization?'

" 'No, I am not.'

" 'Then you'll not get a cent from me, and I'm also turning
you in for a fink.' "

Koedelin drained his goblet of rum punch and looked up at the
dark green foliage from which depended strips of pink blossoms.
"Splendid place for microphones. I wonder who is listening to us."

"No one, according to Chancy."

"It's hard to be certain nowadays. Still, the Organization isn't
all that strong around here."

Gersen raised his hand. "Two more of the same. .. . So, Tree-
song is no longer Lord of the Overmen?"

"Hardly that. But he gave up detail work to sublords quite some
time ago. Howard only looks in from rime to rime and runs his eye
over the books."

"Benign fellow. So what is he up to now?"

Koedelin hesitated, calculating his response, then made a fatal-
istic gesture and drew himself forward. "There's no harm in telling
you, although if the story gets wide circulation we'll be embar-
rassed. It may not even be true." Koedelin looked right and left.
"Don't let it go any further."

"Certainly not."

"IPCC administration is rather loose—that you know. There
is a board of directors and a presiding officer, who is now Artur
Sanchero. Five years ago his confidential aide died in an accident.
A close friend recommended a man named Jethro Cope for the job,
and after the usual background check Cope was hired. Cope proved

750 THE DEMON PRINCES

very efficient, so much so that Sanchero had less and less work to
do. And now began a strange process. The directors began to die—
by disease, by accidents, by murder and suicide.

"Sanchero, or more accurately Jethro Cope, recommended new
directors who were thereupon voted into office. Jethro Cope always
handled the vote and counted the ballots. He put seven men into
the IPCC board of directors and needed only six more to achieve
a voting majority. He probably would have gotten them had not
one of the new directors, who called himself Bemus Carlisle, en-
countered an agent who recognized him to be Sean McMurtree of
Dublin, Ireland, a high-class blackmailer.

"To make a long story short, McMurtree was quietly expunged,
but not before he mentioned a name. Can you guess the name he
mentioned?"

"Howard Alan Treesong."

"Quite right. The agents went looking for Jethro Cope, but he
was gone and never returned."

"What of the other six new directors?"

"Three were killed. One disappeared. Two are still there. They
have no record; they claim innocence, and the other directors won't
vote them out."

"Very noble, very corrupt, or very frightened."

"Take your choice."

"To be Lord of the Overmen and Chief of the IPCC—both
and at the same time—that's like a beautiful dream, no matter
which side you're on."

"Alas, indeed. Treesong is a sly devil. I'd still like to carve up
his liver."

"What of photographs?"

"Not one to be found."

"So we still don't know what he looks like."

Koedelin gave a grunt of derisive disgust. "People who dealt
with Cope remember long blond curls, a bushy blond beard and
mustache, an affable manner."

"And since then?"

"Nothing. He's gone invisible. I forgot to mention that three
years ago an order went down to the library to void all material
pertaining to Howard Alan Treesong, on the grounds of inaccuracy.
This was done; now there's very little on tap."

"All successful criminals at some time return to their home-

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 751

towns.' Somewhere out there Treesong was born and raised. Doz-
ens of people must know him well. Maybe after three years new
material has come in."

Koedelin, leaning back in his chair, ruminated a minute or two.

"I'll check over my sources and let you know. Where are you stay-
- -^"

.?"

ing:

"At the Miramonte."
"I'll look in about noon, if that's convenient.'

On the following day, at precisely noon, Koedelin joined Gersen
in the observation lounge of the Hotel Miramonte, on Avente's
esplanade.

"It's as I suspected," said Koedelin. "There's not a clue as to
his origin. He first appears on Earth as a young man, robbing banks,
swindling, extorting, committing murders, organizing a strike force.
He's competent at his trade. Still, it's amazing how little we know
of him as a human being."

Declaring himself pressed for time, Koedelin left shortly after.
Gersen went out to walk on the esplanade, which for ten miles
paralleled Avente's superb white sand beach.

The harms Treesong had inflicted upon Gersen were now over
twenty years old, when Treesong had only just attained his full
criminal stature.2 Since this time his exploits had become ever more
grand. ... A wraith of insight nickered through Gersen's mind. He
went to lean on the balustrade.

Three years ago Howard Treesong had dropped from sight.
This man, who had tried to be, simultaneously, King of Thieves
and Chief Director of the IPCC, was certainly not now idle; some-
where he plotted new schemes, more monumental than any before.

Gersen considered a number of possibilities: deeds of cruel
magnificence, ingenious abominations, shame visited upon all hu-
manity. None of Gersen's constructions seemed plausible or worth
the effort. Evidently, so Gersen told himself, he lacked Treesong's
gorgeous, if wild and savage, imagination.

1 Gersen here referred to the book The Criminal Mentality, by Michael Diaz
2. At Mount Pleasant, an agricultural settlement on the world Providence, a consortium
of five master criminals—the so-called Demon Princes—had dropped out of the sky to
enslave die enure population, killing those who resisted. Kirth Gersen and his grandfather
escaped, and thereafter in Gersen's life there had been room for little but preparation for
retaliation and revenge.

7 S2 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen returned to the hotel and telephoned Koedelin. "Re-
garding the subject of our conversation, it would seem that some-
thing dramatic should be coming to the surface about now. What
would answer that description?"

Koedelin could cite nothing definite. "I've been thinking along
similar lines—waiting, so to speak, for the other shoe to drop. No
matter how hard I listen, I hear only utter silence. . . ."

The three populated Vegan worlds were Aloysius, Boniface, and
Cuthbert. During the first Explosion of Peoples, they had been
settled by religious orders, each more fanatic than the next. In the
sixteenth century of the Space Age the sacerdotal flavor yet lin-
gered, especially in the public buildings, converted from temples
during the "Bum's Rush."

Pontefract on Aloysius, a small city notable mainly for its in-
cessant mist, by some trick of fate had become an important pub-
lishing and financial center. In the oldest section of town,
dominating St. Paidrigh Square, stood the ancient Bramville
Tower, now headquarters of Cosmopolis, a journal of news, photo-
graphs, and short essays. The magazine's contents, sometimes pro-
found, often dramatic or even sentimental, were directed to the
attention of intelligent middle-class folk across the entire Oiku-
mene.

Kirth Gersen, through the manipulations of his financial advi-
ser, Jehan Addels, had acquired a controlling interest in Cosmopolis;

in the guise of Henry Lucas, Special Writer, he used the offices as
a convenient headquarters.

Arriving in Pontefract, Gersen went to dine with Jehan Addels
at his splendid old mansion in Ballyholt Woods, to the north of
Pontefract. During the course of the dinner Gersen mentioned
Howard Alan Treesong and his peculiar invisibility.

Addels instantly became tense. "You speak, naturally, only from
casual interest."

"Well—not altogether. Treesong is a scoundrel and a criminal.
His influence reaches everywhere. Tonight burglars might break
into this house and steal your Memlings and Van Tasals, not to
mention your Rhodosi rugs. Objects of this quality might go di-
rectly to Treesong himself."

Addels nodded somberly. "It is a serious matter. Tomorrow I
will submit a memorandum to the IPCC."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 753

"It can do no harm."

Addels glanced suspiciously toward Gersen. "I hope that you
take no personal interest m this man?"

"Probably to no great extent."

Addels uttered an angry ejaculation under his breath. "Please
do not include me in these investigations, not to the slightest de-
gree!"

"My dear Addels, how can I avoid coming to you for advice?"

"My advice in this case is succinct and definite: let the IPCC
do their job!"

"That is excellent advice, and I will assist them in this work as
much as possible, and I know that you will do the same."

"Of course, of course," muttered Addels.

At the Cosmopolis library Gersen searched in files for references to
Howard Alan Treesong. These were voluminous and told Gersen
little that he did not know and nothing of the topics which were
his chief concern: Treesong's place of origin and his present
whereabouts. Treesong's pictorial likeness was conspicuous by its
absence.

At the end of a disappointing day, Gersen, for no reason other
than simple persistence, riffled through the contents of a file labeled
Miscellaneous: Sort, discovering nothing to his immediate interest. A
pair of trays marked "File" and "Discard" caught his eye. The
"File" basket was empty; the "Discard" basket contained a large
photograph, almost a foot square, depicting a party at a banquet.
Five men and two women were seated; three men stood somewhat
to the back. At the top someone had scrawled: H. A. Treesong is
here.

With numb fingers and a prickling skin, Gersen stood staring
at the photograph. The camera had recorded a fall circle, from the
center of a circular table, so that each member of the group was
depicted from the front, though none was looking directly at the
camera and perhaps no one was aware that the picture was being
made.

In front of each place stood a curious little semaphore, display-
ing three colored flags, and each place had been served a silver dish
containing three purple-brown objects about four inches high: ap-
parently the first course to the banquet.

Aside from the scrawled notation across the top, the photo-

TIIL DFMON PRINCPS

754

graph lacked further legend except for a number printed at the
bottom 972

The diners were of various ages and races All projected a con-
ndent air, the effluvium of position and wealth They were identi-
fied by place cards, unfortunately turned away from the camera

Gersen looked from face to face Which might be Howard Alan
Treesong2 His description fitted, more or less loosely, perhaps tour
of the men    A file clerk approached, a )aunty young man wearing
a pmk-and-black striped shirt with baggy brown trousers in the
local style He gave Gersen a glance which, while respectful and
affable, also contained the shadow of a sneer Around the Cosmopohs
offices Gersen was regarded as a man of questionable talents.
"Rummaging through the garbage, eh, Mr Lucas2"

"Everything is grist for the mill," said Gersen "This photo-
graph which you were about to throw away—where did it come
from2"

"Oh, that affair2 It arrived a few days ago from our Starport
office The Watch and Ward Society at its annual glut, or some-
thing similar Is it useful2"

"Probably not Still, it's rather quaint I wonder who H A
Treesong might be2"

"One of the local gobboons The ladies are absolute frumps
Nothing here for our readers, that I assure you "

But Gersen was not to be discouraged "From our Starport
office, you say Which Starport, incidentally2 There must be at least
a dozen "

"Starport on New Concept, Marhab Six " Again the flavor, al-
most undetectable, of condescension Around Covmopolis no one un-
derstood how Henry Lucas had gained his job, and even less how
he held it

Gersen was indifferent to the opinions of his colleagues. "How
did the photograph get here'"

"It came in the last mailbag When you're finished, throw it
back in the trash, there's a good fellow "

The clerk went off about his duties Gersen took the photo-
graph to his private cubicle and called the personnel office "Who
is our representative at Starport, New Concept2"

"Starport is a zone headquarters, Mr Lucas The /onal super-
intendent is Ailett Mayneth "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

755

Gersen discovered upon looking into Universal Travel Routes that
direct connections between Aloysius and New Concept were non-
existent If he wished to travel by passenger packet he must expect
three stopovers at junction points and three changes of ship, with
consequent delay

Gersen closed Universal Travel Routes and replaced it on the
shelf. He rode out to the spaceport and boarded his Fantamic Flit-
terwmg, a serviceable and competent space cruiser, with a small
cargo hatch and accommodations for four a vessel larger than his
Distis Pharaon and more comfortable than his Armmtor Starship.

In the late afternoon of the day on which he had discovered
the photograph, Gersen departed Aloysius, with Vega hanging cold
in the sky on his port quarter. He gave appropriate coordinates to
the automatic pilot and was whisked off toward the middle reaches
of Aries

During the voyage he studied the photograph at length, and
slowly the banqueters took on a static two-dimensional life Of each
male face Gersen asked "Are you Howard Alan Treesong2"

Some answered indignantly in the negative, others held their
own counsel, and several seemed to return a brooding challenge, as
if to say, "Who I am, what I am—interfere at your own peril'" And
one of the men Gersen examined ever more often, with increasing
fascination Glossy chestnut hair framed a philosopher's forehead,
hollow cheeks were joined to a gaunt )aw by a sheath of corded
muscle, the thin tender mouth was twisted as if in recollection of a
mischievous joke. A face strong and subtle, sensitive but not soft.
the face of a man capable of anything so thought Gersen

Ahead glowed Marhab, off to the right wheeled the planet New
Concept and its three moons.

2

From Civilized Ideas and Civilized Worlds, by Michael
Yeaton:

As the student reflects upon the development of the
newlv settled worlds he notices an odd and ironic circum-
stance, recurring so often as to seem the rule rather than
the exception. The ideal program by which each new so-
ciety is shaped, by some as yet unenunciated law of conduct,
begins to generate its own obverse, or opposite, impulse,
which in due course overcomes the original scheme. Hu-
man perversity? The malice of Fate? Who can say? In any
event, the examples are everywhere. For instance, consider
the world New Concept.. .

Arriving at New Concept, Gersen located Starport and landed at
the space terminal. A sleek car riding a monorail shuttled him the
five miles between the terminal and Starport; Gersen was thereby
afforded a view of the New Concept fells, here overgrown with
heavy, dark blue turf. In the middle distance the dark blue gave way
to maroon, and beyond, purple. A mile from the terminal the
monorail skirted an area of moldering white ruins, originally an
intricate complex of structures in the Neo-Palladian style: almost a
small city. Now the columns were chipped.broken, or toppled; the
roofs had partly collapsed; the once-noble entablatures were stained
and streaked. At first Gersen thought the ruins uninhabited; then
he noticed movement here and there, and a moment later saw a
pack of gangling animals loping across a once-grand plaza.

The ruins fell behind; the monorail entered Starport and came

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

757

to a halt at a central depot. At an information booth Gersen learned
the location of the local Cosmopolis office—a suite in a ten-story
tower a few hundred yards from the depot—and set out on foot.

Starport seemed a city of no distinction whatever. Except for
the lemon-yellow sunlight and the flavor of the atmosphere,' Ger-
sen might have fancied himself in an outer suburb of Avente on
Alphanor, or any of a dozen quasi-modern cities of the Oikumene.
The folk wore garments similar to those of Avente and the cities
of Earth. Whatever "new concept" had originally been intended,
was now no longer in evidence.

Presenting himself at the Cosmopolis office, Gersen approached
a counter behind which stood an elderly man with a keen birdlike
cast of countenance, bright blue eyes, and a crest of gleaming silver
hair. He was thin, taut and carried himself with a stern and exact
posture, somewhat at odds with his garments, which were casual: a
bright blue turtleneck shirt of lightweight velour, soft beige trou-
sers, and sandals of dark suede. He addressed Gersen in a formally
terse voice: "Sir, your requirements?"

"I am Henry Lucas, from the Pontefract office," said Gersen.
"I would like a few moments with Mr. Ailett Mayneth."

"I am he." Mayneth looked Gersen up and down. "Henry Lu-
cas? I have visited the Pontefract office and I can't remember hear-
ing your name."

"I carry the title 'Special Writer,' " said Gersen. "I am in fact
a general-purpose roustabout; whenever there's a Job too dull or
uncomfortable for anyone else I'm assigned to it."

"I see," said Mayneth. "And what is so dull and uncomfortable
here at Starport?"

Gersen displayed the photograph. Mayneth's manner changed
at once. "Aha! So that is how the wind blows. I wondered what
would happen. So you are here to investigate?"

"That is correct."

"Hmm. Perhaps we can make ourselves more comfortable.
Shall we go up to my apartments?"

"Whatever you like."

Mayneth conducted Gersen to an elevator, which lifted them

1. Experienced space travelers become sensitive to the variations of a breathable atmo-
sphere, discriminating between inert g^ses, oxygen levels, and complex organic exudations
peculiar to ei.erv individual planet In the air of New Concept Gersen noted a muscv
peppery redolence, evidently rising from the blanket of rurf which cloaked the fells.

75S THE DEMON PRINCES

high to the top floor. Mayneth slid open his door with easy in-
difference. Gersen entered what he recognized to be the domicile
of a connoisseur of judgment and, so it would seem, wealth. In all
directions he saw beautiful objects, of various eras and as many
places of origin. Many of the objects Gersen could not precisely
identify: for instance, a pair of earthenware lamps glazed a dull
gray-brown. Possibly ancient Japan? In regard to the rugs he
knew somewhat more, by reason of an episode in his early career.
He recognized a pair of Persian rugs, glowing serenely in the
sunlight, a QUIi-QUn, a Mersilin from the Adar Mountains of Co-
pus, several small Gypsy rugs probably from the Khajar Realm of
Copus. A satinwood case displayed a group of Myrmidense porce-
lains and a casual arrangement of precious old books, bound in
shagreen and hornskin.

"Since I have nothing better to do with myself," said Mayneth
half-apologetically, "I try to surround myself with beautiful objects.
... I fancy myself as a shrewd trader and I enjoy nothing more than
to prowl the country bazaars of some remote little world. This is
my so-called study. The books in here are exclusively from Earth.
A miscellany, I fear. But sit down, if you will." Mayneth touched a
gong with his fingers, producing a plangent tone. A servant ap-
peared, a young girl of odd appearance, thin and supple as an eel,
with a shock of curly white hair, slate-colored eyes in a small
pinched face, a small pointed chin, and a thin lavender mouth. She
wore a short white smock and moved with a curious lithe sliding
gait. She watched the two men attentively, without any trace of
self-consciousness. Gersen could not identify her racial stock. He
thought that, if she were not feebleminded, her rationality was
surely of a most unconventional sort.

Mayneth hissed between his teeth, touched the palm of his
hand, held up two fingers; the girl backed away. She returned al-
most immediately with a tray, two goblets, and two squat bottles.
Mayneth took the tray; the girl was gone in a whisk of fluttering
smock. Mayneth poured. "Our excellent Swallowtail beer." He
served Gersen and picked up the photograph, which Gersen had
placed on the table. "A very strange affair, this." He seated himself,
drank a dainty swallow of beer. "A woman came into the office,
and I inquired her business. She stated that she had valuable infor-
mation which she wished to sell, for a substantial sum. I seated her
in my office and looked her over. Her age was about thirty, a bit

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

759

run to seed; just short of blowsy. Still, she seemed respectable, if in
a dreadful state of nerves. She was not a local woman; she stated
that she had come directly from the space terminal and that she
desperately needed money. I looked her over once again, even more
carefully, but I could not place her background." Mayneth took a
meditative sip of beer. "I noticed one or two small points, still—"
He shrugged, as if to dismiss the problem. "She began to work up
her proposition. She said she was able to offer an item not only
unique, but highly valuable. Not her exact words, of course. She
was so nervous as occasionally to be incoherent.

"I tried a bit of whimsy—rather sophomoric, really—'You've
brought me the directions to a cache of hidden treasure!'

"She became angry. 'Are you interested in what I have to offer?
Mind you, I want a fair price!'

"I told her that I'd have to see to Judge. Immediately she be-
came cautious. It was quite a game. Finally I said, 'Madam, show
me what you want to sell, otherwise I can't spare any more time.'

"She asked me in a whisper, 'Have you heard the name Howard
Alan Treesong?'

" 'Yes, indeed. He is Lord of the Overmen.'

" 'Don't say that! Although it's true ... I have his photograph.
How much will you pay?'

11 'Let's see the picture.'

" 'No, first you must make me a good offer!'

"I'm afraid I became a bit lofty. I asked her, 'How can I buy
something until I've seen it? Is it a good likeness?'

" 'Indeed, it's a good likeness. He is about to commit a mass
murder.'

"I said nothing and finally she produced her merchandise."
Mayneth indicated the photograph. "I examined it carefully, then
said, 'This is admittedly an excellent picture, but which is Tree-
song?'

" 'I don't know.'

" 'Then how do you know he's here?'

" 'I was told so, by someone who knew.'

" 'He might have been joking.'

" 'If so, he was killed for his joke.'

"'Really?'

" 'Yes, really.'

" 'May I inquire your name?'

760

THE DEMON PRINCES

" *Is it important? In any event, I won't give my proper name.'
" 'Where was the picture taken?'
" 'If I told you that, other people would suffer.'
" 'Madam, be practical. Consider the circumstances. You show
me a photograph; one of the persons, so you say, is Treesong, but

you can't point him out to me.'

" 'That proves I'm honest! I could easily point to anyone in the

photograph; that man there, for instance.'

" 'Quite true. As a matter of fact, he's my own choice. All this
aside, and conceding your own honesty, how do you know that the
picture is authentic? Someone has been killed. Who? Why? With-
out these details the picture has no particular value.'

"She thought a moment or two. 'Can you guarantee confiden-
tiality?'

" 'Naturally.'

" 'One of Treesong's aides is named Ervin Umps. His brother

was a waiter at the restaurant where the picture was taken. He was
also my husband. He spoke with Ervin, and discovered that Tree-
song was at the banquet. The photograph is automatic, for the
restaurant's records, and my husband took this copy, which he left
in my keeping. He told me only that Treesong was in the picture,
and that Treesong had murdered everyone else present. The pic-
ture, he said, was very valuable. That same night he was killed. I
knew that I'd be killed too, whether I gave up the photograph or
not, so I left at once, and that's all I can tell you.'

" 'And where is the restaurant?'

" 'I won't tell you. It's not necessary that you know.'

" 'I don't understand. You've told me everything else.'

" 'I have my reasons.'

"That's where the matter rested. We had a long discussion
about the price. I explained that I was taking her on trust; that the
photograph might not be worth a hollow dinket. She agreed but
wouldn't yield an inch. I asked, 'How much do you expect me to

pay?'

" 'I want ten thousand SVU!'
" 'That is out of the question.'

"'WTiat will you offer?'

"I told her I'd risk a hundred SVU of company money and fifty
of my own. She started to leave. I decided that I couldn't risk letting

THE BOOK OF DRR4MS 761

the picture get away. I offered another hundred and guaranteed that
if Cosmopolis used the picture she'd be paid two hundred more.

"She caved in. 'Give me the money. I must leave here at once.
The picture is dangerous.' I paid her off. She ran from the office
and I saw no more of her." Mayneth filled the goblets with Swal-
lowtail beer.

"What happened next?"

Mayneth cleared his throat. "I inspected the picture with great
care. I found few clues. The clothes are diverse, and suggest a va-
riety of backgrounds. They seem to be lightweight, which indicates
a warm local climate. Those little semaphores—I can't understand
them. Nor can I identify the food."

"You hinted at one or two details in connection with the
woman."

"So I did. Her clothes were standard, but she spoke with an
accent. Around the stars you'll hear a thousand accents and dialects.
It is one of my interests, and my ear is fairly keen. I listened care-
fully but I could not place her particular speech."

"What else?"

"At the corner of each eye she wore a little blue shell. I've seen
these before but I can't connect them with any particular place."

"She never mentioned her name?"

Mayneth pulled on his chin. "Her husband's brother is Ervin
Umps. She might or might not use the same name."

"Possible. Not necessarily probable."

"My own feeling. Still, I became curious and decided to make
inquiry at the spaceport, and I did so, although the trail by then
was three days cold. I checked passenger lists, asked questions, and
to make a long story short, I found no 'Umps.' She apparently
called herself Lamar Medrano. She transferred aboard the ship at
a place called Virgo Junction, out on Spica Six. I checked the place
in Universal Travel Routes. A dozen different liners touch there. I
doubt if she could be traced away from Virgo Junction."

"When did she leave New Concept?"

"Possibly never."

"How so?"

"She booked passage to Altair aboard a Green Star packet, the
Samarthi Tone, departing three days after her consultation with me.
I checked around the hotels and found her at Hotel Diomedes,

TUP DFMON PRINCES

762

where she had stayed two nights. They remembered her well, be-
cause she skipped without settling the bill."

"Odd."

"Sinister. I made further inquiries at the Diomedes, and learned
that she had become acquainted with a certain Emmaus Schahar, a
salesman in sports equipment from Krokinole. One morning Scha-
har paid his account and departed. Lamar Medrano went out the
previous night and never returned."

Gersen gave a dour grunt. "As to this Schahar, whsit of him7"

"A saturnine fellow, soft spoken, with plenty of money."

"He's not now in Starport?"

"He left on the Gacy Wonder. One of its way-points is Virgo
Junction."

"Interesting."

"Very much so. I don't know whether or not to be reassured."

"You wonder why Mr. Schahar did not call on you7"

"Exactly."

"Schahar might conceivably be an innocent salesman with only
ordinary interest in Lamar Medrano."

"Conceivably."

"Assuming that Schahar is not an innocent salesman, Lamar
Medrano might have become fearful and fled, so that she is now
hiding somewhere on New Concept."

"Possible."

"Thirdly, Lamar might have died before revealing where she
had taken the photograph. Perhaps she convinced Schahar that she
had put it in the mails."

"Possibly she had two copies of the photograph. Schahar con-
sidered his mission accomplished and is now pleased and happy."

Gersen laughed. "When Howard Treesong reads Cosniopohs,
sometime in the near future, Schahar will not be so pleased and
happy." He brought out stylus and paper, wrote a few words, placed
five hundred-SVU certificates on top, pushed all over to Mayneth.
"Your expenses and a bonus for constructive activity Please sign
the receipt so that I may recover from the central bursar."

"Thank you," said Mayneth "That is indeed generous of you.
Perhaps you will take lunch -with me7"

"It will be a pleasure."

Mayneth touched the gong, the white-haired girl appeared
Mayneth made signs and sounds, the girl slid off, easy and soft of

THE BOOK OF HRMMS

76-i

motion She returned with beer, paused to watch as Mavneth filled
the goblets, peering in fascination at the foam, her lavender-pink
tongue darting in and out of her mouth

"She loves beer," said Mayneth. "I won't allow her anv because
she becomes agitated. She'll lick all the foam from our empty gob-
lets."

Daringly the girl hooked some foam from Gersen's goblet with
her finger and put it into her mouth. Mayneth slapped her hand
without any great vehemence, and the girl (umped back like a play-
ful cat. She hissed at Mayneth, who hissed in return and gestured;

the girl departed. Passing through the door she bent to arrange a
tassel in the fringe of the rug, Gersen noted that under the short
white smock she was nude.

Mayneth sighed and swallowed half a goblet of beer. "I'll be
leaving New Concept before long. I came originally as a collector.
The original settlers created many beautiful things- hand-
illuminated books, grotesques, musical instruments. Notice that
gong yonder, it sounds to no more than a touch. The best are
supposed to sing even before they are touched. Some were ex-
ported, but the best were hidden in caves I've explored a thousand
miles of caverns, acquisitiveness conquering my claustrophobia."

Gersen leaned back in his chair and looked out across the tells
The sun stood at its zenith, across a low ridge in the middle distance
ran a pack of animals, gamboling and curvetting on long lank legs.
They darted into the shadow of a thicket and began to graze on a
growth of green sedge.

"This doesn't seem a particularly w^ll managed world," said
Gersen. "I don't see any signs of agriculture."

"It's been tried. The Feeks destroy crops before they get
started. There's no keeping them out short of poison, which is pro-
hibited."

"I noticed classical ruins out near the space terminal Do they
represent the 'New Concept'7"

"The original structures were the gift of a mad philanthropist.
The 'New Concept' was dietary—vegetarianism, in fact, mixed with
stints of meditation For fifty years the settlers lived in the great
Temple of Organic Unity. They ate alfalfa sprouts, collard greens,
and odd bits of the native vegetation. The human form is wonder-
fully adaptable. The settlers adapted all too well, and there they are
now"—Mayneth pointed to the pack of lank animals gra/mg under

THE DEMON PRINCES

764

the thicket—"having their lunch.. . . Speaking of lunch, we might
as well go examine our own."

Mayneth led Gersen to his dining room, where the white-
haired girl stood staring in fascination at the table. Sudden illumi-
nation came to Gersen. "She is one of the locals?"

Mayneth nodded. "They leave babies lying out on the fells.
Simple forgetfulness, I suspect. Sometimes they're brought in and
trained, more or less successfully. Catch them early and they'll learn
to stay clean and walk on their hind legs. Tiptoe here is a clever
one; she serves beer and fluffs pillows and generally behaves her-
self."

"She's fascinating to look at," said Gersen. "Is she, well, affec-
tionate?"

"It's been tried, with generally poor results," said Mayneth-
"Are you curious? Touch her."

"Where?"

"Well, to begin with, on the shoulder."

Gersen approached the girl, who swayed back, blinking her
great gray eyes. Gersen reached out his hand; she uttered a quick
spitting hiss and sprang back, mouth open to show sharp teeth,

hands raised and fingers curled.

Gersen drew back, grinning. "I see what you mean. Her opin-
ions are very definite."

"Some of the local lads use a bait of molasses candy," said May-
neth. "They like it and while they're eating they can't bite. . . .
Well, here's our lunch. She'll go away now, because she can't tol-
erate anything but lettuce and occasionally a bit of boiled carrot.
Such is the dark side of vegetarianism."

3

From Life, Volume I, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

... I often reflect upon the word "morality," the most
troublesome and confusing word of all.

There is no single or supreme morality; there are many,
each defining the mode by which a system of entities op-
timally interacts.

The eminent entomologist Fabre, observing a mantis in the
act of devouring its mate, exclaimed: "WTiat an abominable
custom!"

The ordinary man, during a day's time, may be obliged to
act by the terms of a half dozen different moralities. Some
of these acts, appropriate at one moment, may the next
moment be considered obscene or opprobrious in terms of
another morality.

The person who, let us say, expects generosity from a bank,
efficient flexibility from a government agency, open-
mindedness from a religious institution will be disap-
pointed. In each purview the notions represent immorality.
The poor fool might as quickly discover love among the
mantises.

Gersen, returning to Aloysius, landed at Dunes Spaceport a few
miles south of Pontefract. The time was late on a dark purple-gray
afternoon. Mist blowing in from Bottleglass Bay almost obscured

766 THE DEMON PRINCES

the terminal buildings. Gersen bowed his head and walked to the
depot across a boardway of weathered sea-wood.

He rode first by underground train, then by taxi to the mansion
ofJehan Addels, his financial adviser and general business factotum,
in Ballyholt Woods.

Addels greeted him with his usual air of sour disapproval, which
Gersen believed to be a mask for esteem and possibly even affec-
tion, though this might be asking a bit too much from Addels,
whose views of man and the universe were filtered through a life-
time of mistrustful cynicism. Addels looked the part, with a gaunt
yellowish face, a tall thin forehead, a long thin nose with a trem-
ulous tip. His hair was scanty and yellow-brown, his eyes a bland
pale blue.

Gersen went to his usual room, bathed, dressed in garments left
on a previous occasion. He dined with Addels and his numerous
family in a grand dining room, at a table illuminated by candles.
The tableware was antique silver and they ate off ancient Wedge-
wood.

After dinner the two men returned to Addels's yampang-pa.ne\ed
study and sat before a fire with coffee served from a silver coffeepot.

Gersen displayed the photograph, to Addels's consternation. "I
had hoped that you were finished with this sort of thing."

"Not quite," said Gersen. "What do you think?"

Addels feigned stupidity. "Regarding what?"

"We want to identify Treesong and discover where he makes
his headquarters."

"And then?"

"Perhaps we'll bring him to justice."

"Bah! And perhaps someone will get himself killed by being
hung on a hook a mile in the air, which was what happened to poor
Newton Flickery."

"A shame, that. Well, we must hope for the best."

"Therefore I hope that you will have nothing to do with this
business. Here, let me throw the photograph into the fire."

Gersen ignored him, and for the hundredth time studied the
photograph. "Which is Treesong? How can we identify him?"

Addels said crossly, "He's one often persons. The others must
know him, or at least know themselves. Treesong can be identified
by eliminating the others."

"First we must identify the others."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 767

"Why not? Each must have many friends and acquaintances.
But let us talk no more of this foolishness."

Gersen wandered the crooked old streets of Ponteftact. He sat in
small irregular squares, planted with boxwood and wallflowers. He
idled along valleys smelling of age and wet stone; he took several
meals at a restaurant suspended over Bottleglass Bay on rotten black

pilings.

He saw little of Addels except at the stately dinners which Ad-
dels considered a basic element of civilized existence. Addels refused
to discuss Gersen's preoccupation, and Gersen had only small in-
terest in the highly profitable dealings by which Addels augmented
Gersen's wealth.

On the fourth day Gersen settled upon a method to increase
the leverage of his single tool to the utmost. For several years the
Cosmopolis directorship had contemplated a companion magazine,
to be known as Extant. Much of the preliminary work had been
done. The new journal would rely heavily upon Cosm-opolis produc-
tion and distribution facilities, with an editorial policy intended to
appeal to a livelier and less sedate readership than that ofCosmopolis.

Through a linkage of holding companies, Gersen owned Cos-
mopolis outright. Now he ordained the instant existence of Extant.
Overnight it came into being. Copy long prepared entered printing
machines, and Extant surged out through the Cosmopolis distribution
adits to the far edges of the Oikumene.

To increase its impact on the market this first issue would be
given away free. It featured a remarkable contest, certain to attract
the attention of all its readers. A photograph on the cover depicted
ten persons at a banquet. The caption read:

WHO ARE THESE FOLK?
NAME THEM CORRECTLY AND WIN
100,000 SVU!

The inside cover added qualifying details. Only the first three
contestants to identify all the depicted faces would win prizes.
Should no one name all persons correctly, then those three persons
identifying the largest number of faces would receive the prize. Six
additional rules stipulated the prizes to those who were first, or
among the first, correctly to identify fewer than all the faces. Entries

THE DEMON PRINCES

768

were to be mailed to: Extant; Corrib Place, 9-11; Pontefract, Aloy-
sius (Vega VI). Such entries would be adjudicated by members of
the Extant staff.

Wherever periodicals were sold Extant impinged on the eye, the
more so for the prominent overprint on its cover: FREE.

At refuges on the frozen salt tundras of Irta; under the lime
trees of Duptis Major; at halts along the cableways of the Midor
Mountains; at kiosks along the grand boulevards of Paris and Oak-
land; on Alphanor, Chrysanthe, Olltphane and Krokinole, and every
other world of the Rigel Concourse: Extant. In spaceports, barber-
shops, jails, hospitals, monasteries, bordellos, construction camps:

Extant. Millions of eyes saw the faces, usually with only casual in-
terest. Not a few studied the photograph with care, and even fas-
cination, and took occasion to write letters to Contest Editor,
Extant. Two persons especially, separated by light-years of space,
saw the photograph with startled amazement. The first sat frowning
through his window as he pondered the significance of the contest.
The second, occasionally sounding a rather harsh chuckle, took pen
in hand and addressed a letter to Contest Editor, Extant.

Gersen decided to move into town, closer to the Extant office. Ad-
dels recommended the Penwipers Hotel. "It is convenient to your
office, and quite the best address in town, very respectable." His
gaze lingered thoughtfully upon Gersen's costume. "In fact..."

"In fact what?"

"Nothing whatever. You will be made comfortable at Penwip-
ers. They take good care of their guests. I will call to make arrange-
ments; they seldom accept new clientele without favorable
recommendation."

The facade of Penwipers Hotel, six stories of carved brownstone
and fluted black iron, surmounted by a Flemish mansard roof of
green copper tiles, overlooked Old Tara Square. An inconspicuous
portal opened into first a foyer, then a reception hall, with the
lounge to one side and the dining room to the other. Gersen reg-
istered at a counter of carved brown marble, supported by pilasters
and corner columns of glossy black gabbro. The receptionists wore
formal morning clothes of old-fashioned cut—how old-fashioned
Gersen did not immediately appreciate. The style, in fact, had

THE ROOK OF DRI^AMS

769

changed by not so much as a buttonhole since the hotel's opening
eleven hundred years before. At the Penwipers, and in Pontefract
generally, tradition yielded grudgingly, if at all, to novelty.

Gersen waited while the registration clerk quietly consulted the
head porter, the two glancing at Gersen from time to time. The
consultation ended; Gersen was conducted to his suite. The chief
porter led the way, an assistant carried Gersen's small handbag, a
third carried a velvet box. At the door the chief porter opened the
box, withdrew a damask cloth scented with lavender, with which he
briskly wiped the door handle, which he then twitched with thumb
and forefinger. The door opened; Gersen entered a set of high-
ceilinged rooms, famished in a style of austere comfort, something
short of luxury.

The porters moved swiftly around the room, adjusting the
placement of furniture, wiping surfaces with their scented cloths,
then departed, swiftly and quietly as if they had merged into the
shadows. The chief porter said: "Sir, the valet will attend you at
once to assist with your wardrobe. The water-is already drawn for
your bath." He bowed and prepared to leave.

"One moment," said Gersen. "Is there a key to the door?"

The chief porter smiled benignly. "Sir, you need not fear in-
trusion at Penwipers."

"Possibly not. But, for instance, suppose I were a jewel mer-
chant carrying a parcel of gems, and a thief wished to rob me. He
need merely saunter to my room, open the door, and divest me of
my wealth."

The chief porter, still smiling, shook his head. "Sir, such a ter-
rible thing could never happen here. It would simply not be tol-
erated. Your valuables are quite safe."

"1 don't carry any valuables," said Gersen. "I merely suggested
a possibility."

"The inconceivable, sir, is rarely possible."

"I am totally reassured," said Gersen. "Thank you."

"Thank you, sir." He drew back as Gersen extended his hand.
"The staff is adequately paid, sir. We prefer to accept no gratui-
ties." He inclined his head crisply and departed.

Gersen bathed in a sunken tub carved, like the reception desk,
from a block of brown marble. He emerged to find his belongings
packed neatly into a bottom drawer of an ancient wardrobe. The
valet, deeming his garments unsuitable, had laid out new: sedate

THE DEMON PRINCES

770

dark brown trousers, a lavender-and-white striped shirt, a cravat of
white linen crash, a knee-long coat of black twill, pinched at the
shoulders, belled at the hips.

In rueful resignation Gersen dressed in the new garments. If
nothing else, Jehan Addels would be pleased.

Gersen descended to the lobby and crossed to the main en-
trance. The chief porter stepped forward to intercept him. "A mo-
ment, sir, I will fetch your klapper." He tendered a large black
velvet hat with a wide rolled brim, a coil of dark green, and a small
stiff brush of black bristles. Gersen looked askance at the hat, and
would have slipped past had not the doorman contrived to position
himself between Gersen and the door. "You'll find the air a bit
brisk, sir. It is our pleasure to assist you in the use of appropriate
attire."

"That is kind of you," said Gersen.

"Thank you, sir. Allow me to arrange the hat. Just so ... Af-
ternoon wear will be laid out for your use at the stroke of the second
gong. The weather portends a drifting wet mist, with showers later
in the day."

In the foyer Gersen paused to glance at himself in the mirror.
Who was this somber exemplar of Old Pontefract gentility who
stared back at him? Never had he worn a disguise more deceptive.

Gersen wandered along the crabbed streets, under tall narrow-
fronted buildings, across the ubiquitous small squares, each with its
boxed beds of wallflowers, pansies, native bulrastia, and St. Olaf's
Toe. From time to time the mist parted to allow a shaft of Vega-
light down to glisten on wet stone and infuse a sudden gush of
color into the flower beds. At a public telephone he called Jehan
Addels and arranged a meeting at the Extant office, at Addels's
convenience.

"That will be in one hour's time," said Addels.

"I will be there."

Gersen turned into Corrib Place, a short street somewhat wider
than ordinary and paved with slabs of polished granite, dovetailed
each to each, and laid down long ago as an act of penance by the
Estebanite monks.

Corrib Place occupied the oldest part of Pontefract Old Town.
To one side the ancient Estebanite monastery had been converted
into commercial suites; the structures opposite, built of age-
darkened mace and ganthar wood, bound with brackets of black

THE BOOK OF DRIL4MS

iron, stood tall and gaunt and compressed, often with upper-story
bays overhanging the street.

With time to spare before his appointment with Addels, Gersen
sauntered along Corrib Place, looking into shops, which here af-
fected a special eclat and offered only goods of distinction and el-
egance: fancy pastries and imported sweetmeats; rare gems, pearls
from the local rorqual, crystals won from dead stars; gloves, cravats,
gaiters, kerchiefs; perfumes, philtres, magic Duhamel oil; bibelots,
curios, portfolios ot antique art: Giotto and Gosl-wane; William
Snyder and William Blake; Mucha, Dulac, Lindsay; Rackham, Niel-
sen; Durer, Dore, David Russell. Gersen paused ten minutes to
watch a pair of puppets at a game of chess. The puppets were Ma-
holibus and Cascadine, characters from the Comic Masque. Each
had captured several pieces; each in turn, after deliberation, made
his move. WTien one captured a piece, the other made gestures of
rage and agitation. Maholibus made a move and spoke in a creaking
voice: "Checkmate!" Cascadine cried out in anguish. He struck
himself on the forehead and toppled backward-off his chair. A mo-
ment later he picked himself up; the two arranged the pieces and
started a new game. . . .

Gersen entered the shop, bought the chess-player puppets, and
ordered them delivered to Penwipers: one of the rare occasions of
his life when he had encumbered himself with a trivial article.

Strolling along Corrib Place, Gersen found himself opposite the
offices of Extant Publications. He paused by the window of the
Horlogicon, to study a timepiece seemingly fashioned from puffs
and swirls of mist, with spots of colored light designating the time.
Interesting, but impractical, thought Gersen. .. .Jehan Addels
turned into Corrib Place and approached, placing his feet carefully
one before the other. The time was several minutes early. He
stopped beside Gersen to catch his breath and inspect the Extant
offices. After an incurious sidelong glance, he ignored Gersen and
continued peering toward the Extant offices.

Gersen spoke. "Sir, are you expecting someone?"

Addels swung around, stared in hemusement. "My dear fellow,
I failed to recognize you!"

Gersen smiled a wintry smile. "The hotel has allowed me the
use of these clothes. They feel that my ordinary attire is a bit too
ordinary."

Addels spoke in a precise voice. "A person makes a statement

THE DEMON PRINCES

772

about himself with his clothes A genteel person wears genteel
clothes to establish his status, and status, whether we like it or not,
is a key factor in human interrelations."

Gersen said, "At the very least I am provided an excellent dis-
guise "

Addels's voice rose a quick tone or two. "Why should you need
a disguise5"

"We are dealing, you and I, with a remarkable man He is a
ruthless murderer, but at the same time a paragon of gentility who
could lodge without qualm at Penwipers Hotel "

Addels gave a glum grimace. "You surely don't expect him

here?"

"I don't know what to expect. We are publishing his photo-
graph, which he has been at great pains to conceal "

"Please do not use the word 'we' so loosely But I agree that
the contest will attract his attention."

"That is part of my plan. He will wonder who is interested m
him and investigate "

Addels sniffed "Or he might simply decide to destroy the enure
building "

"I think not," said Gersen. "First, he will want to discover the

facts "

"He will try to infiltrate your organization It will be very dif-
ficult to forestall him."

"I won't even try In fact, I'll make it easy."

"Risky business' What good can come ofit7"

"His infiltration in effect becomes our infiltration We will lure
him close, then work to arrange a meeting. You will be the inter-
mediary—"

"By no means' Never' Not in a million years'"

"I expect no danger until after he satisfies his curiosity "

Addels refused to be convinced "That is like telling a staked-
out goat that the tiger will not bite until after he sniffs around a
bit"

"I wonder if the parallel is quite exact "

"Regardless, I do not intend to participate in this scheme. I
have had my fill of scares and frights' My proper work lies else-
where."

"Just as you say We will make our plans accordingly "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

773

Addels was not \et reassured "When do you expect him to

-> K

act"

"As soon as he sees the photograph He will then send someone
here to investigate, or possibly he will arrive on the scene himself
We still have a few days to prepare "

"The lull before the storm," muttered Addels

Gersen laughed "Don't forget, we are laying the plans, not
Treesong. Come along, I'll take you to lunch at Penwipers, if you
think they'll allow you in the dining room "

On the door of the Extant offices appeared a sign

NOTICE TO THE PUBLIC
STAFF IS NOW BEING ENGAGED. TEMPORARY
HELP IS REQUIRED TO ASSIST WITH PHO-
TOGRAPH IDENTIFICATION CONTEST. IT IS
PREFERRED, BUT NOT ESSENTIAL, THAT AP-
PLICANTS MAKE APPOINTMENTS FOR AN IN-
TERVIEW.

An applicant, upon entering the Extant offices, found himself
in an anteroom divided by a counter 'I o the left was a door with
a notice reading

CONTEST PROCESSING ROOM
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

the door to the right was imprinted

EDITORIAL OFFICES

At the counter the applicant would be met by Mrs Millicent Ench,
a brisk, dark-haired lady of middle age, who invariably wore, day
after day, a long black skirt, a pale blue blouse with a red sash, a
cap with a red visor, glossy black shoes which laced up past the
ankles Mrs Ench performed a screening process, turning away
those applicants who were patently unsuitable Others she sent into
the adjoining room, where the\ filled out an application form, un-
der the eye of the personnel manager This was Mr Henry Lucas,
who, from the evidence of his clothes, fancied himself a patrician
of the most refined gentility His features were good if a trifle harsh,

774 THE DEMON PRINCES

his mouth was wide, thin, and crooked. Black ringlets were arranged
with care across his forehead and down past his sallow-pale cheeks.

After a casual word or two with the applicants, Henry Lucas
seated them in cubicles, back to the room, and asked them to re-
spond to a questionnaire. The cubicles and desks were apparently
improvised and roughly constructed for the occasion. Actually, they
concealed and disguised exceptionally sensitive sensors and stress
gauges which recorded every slight tremor of the applicant, each
flicker of his eye, every variation of blood pressure, every alteration
of brain-wave pattern. The findings, when collated, were indicated
as colored lights at Gersen's desk and colored marks upon a facsim-
ile of the questionnaire.

Gersen had composed the questionnaire with care, in order that
the responses and their associated reactions should provide the max-
imum information, even though the questions in themselves seemed
innocuous.

The first questions were straightforward, in order to establish
normal circumstances and to calibrate the equipment.

Name-
Type of Employment Desired
Local Address
Birthplace

Se?

Age-




Name of Parents: Father Addrp*;*,
Mnrhpr ArMrP'-'-
Occupation of Father Mother
Rirthnlapp of Father Morhpr

The next group of questions, so Gersen calculated, would place a
rather greater strain on other than a legitimate applicant.

How long at local address-


Local references (List at least two. These people may or may
not be consulted in regard to your character and competence.):

1.___________________________________

3.

Previous address, if any.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 775

List at least two persons who have known you at this address.
(They may be consulted.):

1.___________________________________

2.___________________________________

3.___________________________________

Your address previous to address noted above, if any:

List at least two persons who knew you at this address:

1.

2.

3.

NOTE: You will understand that, under the circumstances^ Extant
must diligently ensure the integrity of its personnel.

The following questions were intended to exert maximum stress
upon any person intending deception.

If nonresident, why have you come to Pontefract? (Give specific
reasons. Do not generalize.) —————————————————————

Contest personnel must necessarily he impartial. Examine the photo-
graph here depicted, which is submitted to the contestants. Do you
know or recognize any of the persons herein? Write '0' in the boxes
of the persons you do NOT know. Fill in solidly the boxes of the persons
you DO know.

1    2    3    4    5    6    7    8    9    10

aaaDDnaoaa

(Read clockwise from bottom left center.)
What is his/her name, or their names?

(List names with corresponding numbers.)

THE DEMON PRINCES

776

What are the circumstances of your acquaintances? (Please be

specific.) ________________________________

If engaged, when can you start work?

In due course applicants for employment presented themselves
to the office: students from Saint Griegand's Seminary and the
Celtic Academy, and as many middle-aged women with time on
their hands. Gersen rigorously applied his sensors to each applicant,
in order to adjust the mechanism and to establish the accuracy of
his methods. Apart from a few fluctuations and trivial exceptions,
his system of colored imprints certified the innocence of each ap-
plicant. Of these, Mrs. Ench, who also supervised the Judging pro-
cedure, selected a group to process the beginning flood of entries.
Each envelope as it entered the office passed through a numerator
to establish the priority of its reception.

Gersen himself opened and examined a number of envelopes,
but found a wide disparity of response, lacking all consistency.

On the afternoon of an uncommonly sunny day Gersen re-
turned from lunch to encounter among the applicants a slim, slight
red-haired girl, in whom he took an immediate interest, for at least
two reasons. In the first place, she was very pretty in a style at the
edge of the unconventional. Her face, rather wide of forehead and
cheekbones, slanted across flat cheeks down to a small chin and a
curving pink mouth, which even when still seemed to express in-
triguing possibilities. Her gray-blue eyes, under dark lashes, were
clear and direct. She was perhaps a trifle smaller than average but
constructed of apparently durable material; she was engagingly sun-
tanned, as if she spent much of her time outdoors. She might have
been a student from one of the local institutions, but Gersen
thought not. He noticed her first through his window, standing
across the street, wearing pale gray trousers, black sash, and a pale
gray cape, not at all in the local mode. . .. She stood a moment
with a bleak expression on her face, then squared her shoulders,
crossed the street, out of range of Gersen's vision. A moment or
two later Mrs. Ench allowed her into Gersen's office.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

Gersen gave her a brief stare. The bleak expression had van-
ished; she now seemed composed, and here was the second reason
for Gersen's interest. There was a third rising from his subcon-
scious, and perhaps most important of all.

She spoke in a pleasant husky voice, with the trace of an accent
Gersen could not identify. "Sir, you are offering employment?"

"To qualified persons," said Gersen. "I suppose that you are
aware of the Extant contest?"

"I've heard something about it."

"We need temporary clerks to help with the contest, and we
are also hiring permanent personnel."

She considered his remarks. Gersen wondered whether her art-
lessness was real or most carefully contrived. He took care to ac-
centuate his half-debonair, half-supercilious formality. She offered
a polite suggestion. "Perhaps I could start as a contest clerk, and
then, if I do well, you might consider me for a permanent job."

"That is certainly possible. I'll ask you to fill in this form, which
is self-explanatory. Please answer all questions."

She glanced at the questionnaire and uttere'd a soft sound under
her breath. "So many questions?"

"We consider them necessary."

"Do you investigate all this for everyone you hire?"

Gersen spoke in a flat voice: "A great deal of money is involved
in the contest. We must ensure that our personnel is absolutely
honest."

"I quite understand." She took the form and went to the booth.

Gersen, pretending to occupy himself with paperwork, touched
a switch and watched a pair of desk screens, as the red-haired girl
filled in the questionnaire. To the left appeared her face, tu the
right the questionnaire and colored lights to indicate the verdict of
the stress detectors.

She had started to write.

Name: Alice Wroke
Sex: Female

The question as to gender and its response, certifying- a self-
evident condition, calibrated the instruments at base level. Con-
ceivably, as in the case of a man disguised as a woman, the question
might generate stress, thus distorting the interpretation of every
other reading. In addition to the colored-light indicators, a graph

778 THE DP;MON PRINCES

recorded responses in terms of absolute units; anomalous responses
might therefore be identified. In practice the color-coded indexes
had provided reliable information. Blue lights now signified that
Alice Wroke had truthfully declared her name and her gender; al-
though before she wrote her name, the light flickered into pink for
a moment, as if she were debating the use of a false name. The
warnings from his subconscious were apparently vindicated. Sur-
prising! He had hoped for Treesong to attempt infiltration of Ex-
tant, but that the infiltrator should be someone like Alice Wroke
was quite unexpected. Gersen felt a surge of primitive excitement.
The game had begun. With his own pulse accelerated, Gersen
watched Alice Wroke write responses to the questions he had
framed.

Age: 20'
A clear blue light: no dissimulation.

Type of Employment desired:

Here, Alice hesitated. The color, wavering from blue into blue-
green, indicated indecision rather than stress. She wrote:

Clerical or journalistic work. I am qualified for either.

As she wrote the final sentence the blue-green verged momen-
tarily into green, as if perhaps she were not as sure of her qualifi-
cations as she professed.. . . She still hesitated and the green
gradually became sharper and more acid. She added to her re-
sponse:

However, I am prepared to work in any capacity, and do
whatever is required of me.

As she considered the next question, the color shifted back to
blue-green, indicating a heightened state of consciousness.

1. By general convention, age and almost all other units of duration were reckoned by
terrestrial standards.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

779

Local address:

The color shifted not an iota. Alice wrote:

St. Diarmid's Inn.

This was a large cosmopolitan hotel at the heart of the city,
frequented by tourists and offworld travelers, considerably less pres-
tigious than Penwipers, but not without distinction and certainly
not inexpensive. Alice Wroke would seem to be in no immediate
need.

Birthplace: Blackford's Landing, Terranova, Denebola V.
Name of Parents:

Father: Benjamin Wroke

Address: Wild Isle

Occupation: Engineer

Mother: Eileen Sversen Wroke

Address: Wild Isle
Occupation: Accountant

These questions were negotiated without stress, except in re-
gard to Father's Occupation, where the light glowed yellow green.

Now commenced those questions which were intended to apply
pressure upon a dissembler.

Hoiv long at present address?

Alice had defused this question by identifying her residence as
a transient hotel. Still, the indicator shifted into the bright green
as she wrote:

Two days.
Local references: list at least two:

1. Mahibel W^roke

The Blawens, Gungold Street

2. Sean Paldester

Dingle Lane, Tuorna

780 THE DEMON PRINCES

On this response the indicator glowed placidly blue. The first
was evidently a relative, as might he the second who resided at
Tuorna, a nearby village.

Your previous address, if any:

The blue brightened to green, flashed momentarily into yellow.
Watching Alice's face, Gersen saw her compress her lips, then lean
forward with a determined expression; simultaneously the indicator
swung back through green toward blue. She wrote:

Wild Isle, Cvtherea Tempestre
The references were:

1. Jason Bone
Wild Isle

2. Jade Channifer
Wild Isle

To the next question, inquiring as to previous address, she re-
sponded without tension:

1012-792nd Avenue, Blackford's Landing, Terranova, De-
nebola V

As references she cited:

1. Dain Audenave
1692-753rd Avenue

2. Willow Tarras
1941-777th Avenue

The following questions were those designed to exert maximum
pressure.

If nonresident, u'hy have you come to Pontefract?

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 781

As Alice studied the question the indicator glowed yellow and
flickered into orange. Her tension diminished. . . . The indicator re-
turned to green. She wrote:

To secure employment.

Turning the page, Alice discovered the photograph of the con-
test, and the question:

Do you know or recognize any of the persons here depicted?

The indicator light glowed yellow, then orange. She deliberated
a moment and the color became yellow green. Presently she filled
in all the boxes with 0's. At box 6, the light glowed pink. She
quickly turned the page, to avoid looking at the photograph, and
her tension diminished slowly into green.

What is his or her name, or their names?

The light glowed vermilion. Alice answered the question with
a dash.

What are the circumstances of your acquaintance?
The light glowed red. Alice answered with a second dash.

If'engaged, •when can you start work?

The light cooled quickly into green and greenish blue, as if in
relief.

At once.

The questionnaire now was complete. As Alice reread it, Ger-
sen watched her face. This slender red-haired girl was the instru-
ment of Howard Alan Treesong. Conceivably she knew him by
another name, and in this case she might or might not know his
reputation. In due course the truth would become known. ... Ger-
sen rose to his feet and sauntered across the room. She looked up
with an uncertain smile. "I've just finished."

782 FHP Dt'MON PRINCFS

Gersen glanced at the responses. "This looks to be in order.
.. . You're originally from Terranova, it appears."

"Yes. My family moved out into Virgo five years ago. My father
is—well, a consultant at Wild Isle. Have you ever been there?"

"No. I understand it's rather a different environment than
here." Gersen contrived to speak in a voice of tired disapproval.

Alice encompassed him with a glance, expressionless save for a
nicker of wonder. She responded without intonation. "Yes. It's a
kind of dreamland, not altogether real."

"Out of idle curiosity, why did you leave7"

Alice shrugged. "I wanted to travel, and see something of other
worlds."

"Do you intend to go back7"

"I hardly know. At the moment I'm only interested in working
for Extant. I've always wanted to be a journalist "

Gersen paced slowly back and forth, hands behind his back, a
figure of pompous elegance. lie spoke in a ponderous voice. "Allow
me a moment to consult Mrs. Ench. I'll find what positions are
open."

"Certainly, sir."

Gersen wandered through the contest room, where a dozen
clerks processed great stacks of contest envelopes. He checked the
computer readout. Thirteen persons already had identified number
seven as John Gray, and ten knew number five as Sabor Vidol:

identifications which might well be considered definite. The tall
gaunt man with the philosopher's forehead and the foxy ]aw was
known by a variety of names Bentley Strange, Fred Framp, Kynl
Kyster, Mr. Wharfish, Silas Sparkhammer, Arthur Artleby, Wilton
Freebus, a dozen more.

Gersen returned to his office. Alice Wroke had moved to a
chair close to his desk. Gersen halted to look at her, admiring the
pleasant accord between her orange-red curls and her dusky ivory-
tan skin. She smiled. "Why are you inspecting me so?"

Gersen spoke in his most pompous and nasal voice. "If nothing
else. Miss Wroke, you are indeed a most decorative bit of work.
Though I will ask, should you choose to enter our employment,
that you dress a bit more sedately."

"Then I am to be hired7"

"Tonight we will check your references, and I am sure that they

THE BOOK OF DRKWS 783

will reinforce my favorable opinion of you. I suggest that you report
for work tomorrow at the second gong."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Lucas." Alice's smile conveyed no
great emotion. If anything, she seemed strained and disheartened.
"Where will I be working?"

"At the moment Mrs. Ench is adequately staffed; however, I
need an assistant to manage the office when I am out. I believe that
you are well equipped to handle the job."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Alice rose to her feet. She turned
Gersen a glance over her shoulder, flirtatious, demure, puzzled, sad,
and apprehensive, in equal proportions.

She departed the office. Gersen looked after her. Curious, most

curious.

4

A former colleague recalls Howard Alan Treesong, then about
eighteen years old, when they worked at the Philadelphia factory
of the Elite Candy Company.

"He was restless and fluid and unpredictable, like a puddle
of quicksilver on a table, but I always got along well with
him. He seemed mild and rational. Certainly he was clever
and amusing, and he had an inclination for wild practical
Jokes. Sometimes he carried the mischief too far—much too
far. One day he brought in a box of dead bugs—cock-
roaches, bumblebees, beetles—and carefully fixed up a box
of chocolate creams, each candy containing a big bug. He
put it out for shipment, and said to me with a faraway look
on his face: 'I wonder who will receive my little surprise.'

"But that wasn't what got him fired. There was a foolish
old lady named Fat Aggie who always wore high-topped
black shoes, which she took off when she sat down to work.
Howard stole the shoes and filled them to the brim with
peanut fondant in one and our Supreme Molasses Taffy
Delight in the other, then put them back under Aggie's
chair.

"That trick cost Howard his job. I never saw him
again."

In the morning Alice Wroke appeared at the Extant offices wear-
ing a skirt and jacket of a soft blue stuff which clung lovingly to
her slender haunches. A black ribbon confined her orange hair;

coming through the old black wood doorway she made an arresting

THE BOOK OF DRK-^MS 785

picture. She was intelligent enough to realize as much, so Gersen
felt assured. The costume was hardly as conservative as that which
he had suggested, but he decided to let the matter rest; he gained
nothing by exaggerating his role as a pompous frump. Alice Wroke,
who seemed not only intelligent but perceptive, might not be de-
ceived.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas," said Alice in a soft voice. "What
do you wish me to do?"

This morning the valet at Penwipers had laid out for Gersen
gray trousers with a lavender pinstripe, a black frock coat, pinched
at the shoulders, flaring at the hips, with a white high-collared shirt
and a black-and-lavender striped cravat, to which the chief porter
had added a black hat with a foppish side-slanting brim and a purple
ribbon. In the costume Gersen felt cramped and constricted; he
needed only to hunch his shoulders to split the coat down the back.
His discomfort and annoyance, together with the need to hold his
chin high over the stiff collar, imposed upon him a manner which
might easily be interpreted as priggish disdain for the commonalty
with whom he was forced to associate. Well, so be it, thought Ger-
sen. He said, in a voice to suit his costume: "Miss Wroke! I have
taken counsel with Mrs. Ench and temporarily at least you will be
assisting me, in the capacity of private secretary. I am discovering
more paperwork than I care to handle and, if I may say so, you add
a colorful accent to an otherwise drab office."

Alice Wroke gave a small involuntary grimace of annoyance,
which amused Gersen. A most peculiar situation. Alice Wroke, were
she intimately associated with Howard Alan Treesong, must be a
wicked woman indeed. Hard to believe . . . Gersen invented work
to keep Alice occupied, and went out to check the tabulations.

Incoming mail now filled a bin. Six clerks opened the entries,
examined the contents, entered the information into the rational-
izer. Gersen went to the readout screen at the end of the room,
which only he and Mrs. Ench were allowed to use. He touched a
button to call up the tabulations to date.

Nineteen persons now had identified number 7 as John Gray,
of Four Winds, on Alphanor; his identity might be regarded as
certain. The same could be said for number 5, Sabor Vidol, of
London, Earth; number 1, Sharrod Yest, of Nova Bactria; and num-
ber 9, A. Gieselman, of Long Parade, Espandencia, Algenib IX.
Number 6 was known far and wide across the Oilumene by a variety

786 THE DE.MON PRINCP;S

of names: Kyril Kyster, Timothy Trimmons, Bentley Strange, Fred
Framp, Silas Sparkhammer, Wilson WTiarfish, Oberon. Number 4
was named twice as lan Bilfred, of the Pallas Technical Institute,
at Pallas, Alcyone.

Gersen returned to his office, remembering, as he passed
through the door, to reassume the role of Henry Lucas.

During his absence, Alice had reconsidered her tactics. Now,
the better to manipulate this overdressed dunderhead, she thought
to try breezy affability, perhaps even a bit of flirtation. Good
enough, thought Gersen. Why not?

"I wonder if I have read any of your articles, Mr. Lucas. Your
name is very familiar."

"Possibly, Miss Wroke, quite possibly."

"Do you have special subjects you write about?"

"Crime. Vice. Dreadful deeds."

Alice looked at him askance. "Really?"

Gersen realized that for an instant he had let his mask slip. He
made an airy gesture. "Someone must write such things. How else
is the public to know?"

"But you hardly seem the sort to be interested in such things."

"Oh? What topics would you consider appropriate for me?"

Again Alice turned him a glance of wary speculation. "Civilized
things," she said brightly. "The best restaurants, for instance. Or
the wines of Earth. Or Lily Milk,' or Si Shi Shim dancing."

Gersen gave his head a sad shake. "Those aren't my subjects.
What of yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not expert at anything."

"This Si Shi Shim dancing, how does it go?"

"Well—one needs the proper music. Gongs, water flutes, a kur-
daitsy—that's a rather repulsive trained beast which squeals when
its tail is pulled. The costumes are mostly feather anklets, but nei-
ther the dancers nor the audience seem to mind. Actually, I can't
do it well, if at all."

"Oh, come, I'm sure you're over-modest. How does it go?"

"Please, Mr. Lucas. Suppose someone looked into the office
and saw me gyrating about, what would they think?"

"Quite right," said Gersen. "We must set an example of de-

l, A precious ceramic ware, produced along the Susimara Islands of Yellow Sun Planer.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 787

corum. At least during working hours. Where are you staying
now?"

"I'm still at St. Diarmid's." Alice Wroke's response was
guarded and cool.

"You're here alone? That is to say, you have no local friends
or relatives?"

"I am quite alone, Mr. Lucas. W^hy do you ask?"

"Simple curiosity, Miss Wroke. I hope that you are not of-
fended?"

Alice gave a tolerant shrug, returned to the work which Gersen,
at some effort, had contrived for her.

At noon a caterer's van arrived at the premises. Lunch was
served to Mrs. Ench and her clerks in a small refectory; to Gersen
and Alice Wroke in Gersen's office.

Alice expressed surprise at the arrangements. "Why don't we
all eat together? I'm curious as to how the contest is going."

Gersen gave his head a magisterial shake. "That is not possible.
My superiors have stipulated maximum security, especially in view
of the rumor."

"Rumor? W^hat rumor is that?"

"A notorious criminal has interested himself in the contest:

that's the rumor. Personally I am skeptical. Still, who knows? We've
even arranged sleeping accommodations here for our clerks. They
won't leave the premises until after a winner is declared."

"It seems a bit exaggerated," said Alice. "Who is the notorious
criminal?"

"It's absolute rubbish," declared Gersen loftily. "I refuse to dis-
seminate such nonsense!"

Alice became haughty. "I'm really not interested." And during
the lunch she retreated into herself, from time to time darting
opaque glances toward Gersen.

After lunch Gersen invented more work for Alice, then carefully
set the slant-brimmed hat on his head. "I'll be gone an hour or so."

"Very well, Mr. Lucas."

Gersen went to the Penwipers Hotel. From his room he called
St. Diarmid's Inn. "Miss Alice W^roke, please."

After a pause the receptionist replied: "Miss W^roke is not cur-
rently in the hotel, sir."

"I believe she's in room 262?"

"No, sir, it's room 441."

788 FHE DEMON PRINCFS

"Is any other member of her party in the room7"

"She's alone, sir Will you leave a message^"

"No, it's nothing important "

"Thank you, sir "

Gersen assembled various articles of gear, packed them in a
case To forestall difficulty at the front desk, he changed into af-
ternoon wear, then departed the hotel

At this time of day, afternoon tea break, the dank old streets of
Pontefract were crowded with men in flare-bottomed brown and
black suits and buxom pink-faced women in voluminous patterned
skirts and black capes. Gersen soon arrived at St Diarmid's Inn
He entered and surveyed the lobby, but saw nothing he could con-
sider consequential

He approached the registration counter and pretended to make
calculations on a sheet of paper. The clerk watched a moment, then
approached "Sir, may I oblige you3"

Gersen wrote several numbers on his paper while the clerk
watched in perplexity "I need a room for several days or a week,
during the Numerologists Congress Mathematical vibrations in-
dicate number 441, and I will engage this room." Gersen placed an
SVU on the counter, and the clerk hastened to consult a readout
screen

"A pity, sir' That room is already engaged "

"Then I must have either 440 or 442 "

"I can oblige you with room 442, sir "

"It will serve adequately I am Aldo Bnse "

Established in room 442, Gersen went to the wall and placed a
microphone against the paneling. From 441 came no sound

In the corner he dropped to his knees, drilled a minute hole,
and inserted a near-invisible audio pickup He attached a recorder,
which then he coupled to the telephone He placed the recorder in
a drawer, opened the circuit, made tests, and departed

Returning to his office he entered, stalked across the room,
carefully doffed his hat, placed it on a shelf Then he favored Alice
with a stately nod, to which she returned a demure murmur and a
quiet side-glance from under her long dark lashes Gersen settled
himself at his desk with a grunt, sat frowning into space for five
minutes, as if deep m thought Then he rose to his feet, went out
into the passage, and so to the workroom

The clerks were at the full tide of work Gersen looked over

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 789

the current listing at the rationalizer Identification of all the sub-
)ects could now be considered complete, save for number 6, who
was known by a variety of names As yet no one had used the name
Howard Alan Treesong

Gersen went back to his office Alice looked up from her desk
"How goes the contest3"

"Extremely well, from a promotional standpoint Response ex-
ceeds our pro)ection by seventeen percent "

"But no one has won the grand prize3"

"Not yet "

"Why did you use that particular photograph3"

Gersen went to his desk and seated himself with the gravity of
a judge He spoke m his nasal voice: "I have never thought it ap-
propriate to ask "

Alice pulled in the corners of her mouth but said nothing

After a moment Gersen put the tips of his fingers together. tt!
think that I can inform you, in absolute confidence, of course, that
all our sub)ects except one have been correctly identified "

Alice gave an indifferent shrug "I'm not all that interested, Mr.
Lucas."

"Come now," said Gersen, heavily facetious, "let's not have our
noses out of joint I believe you mentioned that your home is Cyth-
erea Tempestre3"

"For several years now, yes "

"I understand that people conduct themselves most informally
on Cytherea "

Alice considered "I'm not sure I know what you mean by 'in-
formally.' "

"Isn't there often—let us say—a bit ofexcess3"

"Yes, that's occasionally true Tourists often misbehave when
they're away from home Some of the worst offenders are from
Pontefract "

Gersen laughed Alice, watching him sidelong, thought The id-
iot iv human after all

"Have you ever visited the Wild Isle casinos5 I'm told people
gamble away vast sums of money "

"They can hardly expect to win "

Gersen said with plangent severity. "The money they lose lines
the pockets of notorious criminals "

"So I've heard," said Alice. "My father lines his pockets, so to

790 'IHF DP\U)N PRINCTS

speak, at the casinos, but I don't think that he is a notorious crim-
inal."

"I should hope not. Is he a gambler?"

"To the contrary. He designs gambling machines and adjusts
them so that they fleece the gamblers. He finds his work entertain-
ing. I've heard him say that he lacks all sympathy for gamblers. He
considers them self-indulgent, foolish, and lazy, if not psychotic."
Alice inspected Gersen with an innocent expression "1 hope that
you're not a gambler, Mr. Lucas. I wouldn't care to hurt your feel-
ings."

"Rest easy, Miss Wroke. I am neither vulnerable to casual dep-
recation nor a gambler."

"In regard to the contest, which one has not yet been properly
identified5"

Gersen said evenly: "Number six."

"When will the contest be over^"

"I don't know." Gersen looked at his watch. "I have no further
work for you today, Miss Wroke. You may leave at any time."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Alice slipped on her )acket and went
to the door. She paused and gave Gersen a tentative smile. "Will
there be anything more tonight, Mr. Lucas?"

"No, thank you, Miss Wroke. I'll see you in the morning."

Alice departed. Gersen went out into the contest room and
stood watching the operatives. Then he returned to his office, re-
moved his coat, and subjected walls, windows, floor, ceiling, and all
the contents of the room to a slow and expert inspection. Had the
need arisen, he could have carried detection devices to measure the
quiver of energy flux, but the process might well attract attention
to his vigilance. High in a corner of the ceiling he noticed a few
strands of web, which might have been spun by a spider, something
the eye would slide away from, unheeding.

After five minutes of scrutiny he decided that the web indeed
was the work of a spider and brushed it away.

He sat in his chair, collar open, cravat loose, and reflected. The
time was now late afternoon. Gersen went out into the workroom
to find that the evening shift had come on duty He watched a
moment, then, adjusting his garments for the street, departed the
office and strolled through cool evening mist to Penwipers.

The doorman acknowledged his arrival with a grave bow; the

THE BOOK OF DRE.1MS 791

footman hurried forward to take his hat and to assist him up the
stairs, as if he were a centenarian.

Gersen went up to his rooms. He removed his coat and seated
himself at the telephone. .. . He hesitated, hand in midair. He gave
a snort of sour mirth. Eavesdrop devices at Penwipers5 Unthink-
able'

To make absolutely sure—after all, the doors were innocent of
locks—he tested the premises with his detector, the specifications
of which he himself laid down.

The room was clean of spy cells.

Gersen went to the telephone and called room 442 at St. Diar-
mid's Inn.

"Mr. Bnse is not in," stated his answering device. "Please leave
a message."

Gersen spoke a code word to activate the recorder. A musical
tone notified him that material had been recorded and announced
the time of the reception: only half an hour previously.

The first sound was Alice's voice. "Mr. Albert Strand, please."

"Thank you, madam." An institutional voice, thought Gersen.
A moment later: "Hullo Alice'"

"Hello, Mr. Sparkhammer. I—"

"Tish, Alice' Also tush! Remember, here I am the gentleman
Albert Strand of the Wambs County Strands."

"Sorry. Does it make any difference?"

"WTio knows?" The voice was airy. "We are dealing with clever
people. Not that we can't deal with them, but let us nurture our
advantages. Boldness, power, stealth, decision' Let these be our
watchwords'"

"Don't forget fear," said Alice in a soft, bitter voice.

"And of course, fear' So then, what have you learned?" This
was a rich voice, under exquisite lilting control. Gersen listened
with rapt attention.

Alice responded in a voice almost without expression. "This
morning, when I arrived at work, Mr. Lucas told me I ^vas to be
his private secretary."

"Oh, dear me. I had not reckoned upon that. So then, what of
Mr. Lucas?"

"He is careful about security—extremely so. 1 am not allowed
into the contest room Today I tried twice while he was out, but
Mrs. Ench turned me away. I asked Mr. Lucas how the contest was

792 'I HP DP MON PRINCES

going and he became insufferably pompous He said that everyone
in the picture had been identified except one—number six. No one
as yet has come near winning the prize."

"And that is all'-"

"I'm afraid so. Mr. Lucas says very little. He's a silly over-
dressed fool but rather a cunning fool, if you gather my meaning."

"Perfectly. Still, it seems that he is not impervious to your
rather remarkable charms."

"Well—I'm not sure "

"Well then, find out' We can't waste time. I have important
commitments in the near future."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Strand." Alice hesitated, then said: "Ac-
tually, you've never explained exactly what you want me to find
out."

"Haven't 1, though7" Mr. Strand's voice became briefly acrid
and venomous. "Find out why they are using this specific picture'
When and where did they get it? There's something going on,
something in back of this contest, and I want to know what."

The conversation ended.

On the following day Alice made her second report. "Mr. Strand?"

"I am here, Alice."

"I don't have much to tell you. Today was much like yesterday.
I tried to talk about the contest but Mr. Lucas won't answer my
questions. He just sits and looks down his nose at me."

"Time is becoming critical, Alice " Mr. Strand spoke in a harsh
hissing voice, curiously at odds with his mellifluous tones of the day
before. "I want results. You know the circumstances "

Alice's voice became dull. "I'll try again tomorrow "

"You had better try something effective."

"But I can't think of anything. He is totally secretive'"

"Take him to bed. It's hard to be secretive without any clothes
on."

"Mr. Sparkhammer—I mean Mr Strand—I can't behave like
that' I wouldn't know how'"

"Tush, Alice, everyone knows how'" Mr Strand chuckled and
his voice lost its menacing rasp, rising in pitch to become gay,
quick, and almost brittle in quality. "If you must, you can—and
indeed you must'"

"Mr Strand, really, I don't—"

THE BOOK OF DREA W.S 793

"Alice, you make such an affair of it all' It's most simple. You
smile at him, he takes you to dinner. One thing leads to another,
and presently you find yourselves without your clothes Mr. Lucas
is panting like a beached haddock. You start to snivel. 'My dear
Alice!' cries Mr. Lucas. 'Why, at this ecstatic moment, all these
tears3'

" 'Because, Mr. Lucas, I am sad and afraid. You are only trifling
with me, isn't it true?'

" 'Not so, Alice' I am ardent; can't you tell? The thought of
your orange curls on that white pillow yonder sets me aquiver' Feel
my pulse' Trifling5 Never! I am deadly in earnest!'

" 'But you treat me like an outsider' WTly can't you truly dem-
onstrate your regard for me?'

" 'I am ready and anxious to do so''

" 'Not in that fashion. I want your full trust and esteem. For
instance, when I show a natural interest in office affairs, such as the
contest, you turn away your head. This is why I am sad.'

" 'Hrrumph, harra—I wouldn't want so petty a matter to come
between us. Tomorrow at the office—'

" 'No, Henry, you might become cold again. You must tell me
now, to prove your faith.'

" 'Well, it's really a simple matter.' And so—out come all the
secrets, in a great vulgar belch. In the morning, tired but happy,
you communicate what you have learned to me, and all will be well.
Otherwise"—here Mr. Strand paused—"otherwise," and his voice
dropped half an octave, "I can offer no such assurance."

"I see."

"You can handle the job7"

"I suppose so."

"Remember, time is of the essence, as I have a commitment
which cannot be disrupted: a gathering of old school chums, in fact.
So please put your best efforts into this project, in the manner
which I have outlined. After all, you were brought here to Ponte-
fract for precisely this function."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Strand."

"Your best, I'm sure, will be adequate."

The conversation ended; there was silence in the room

From- Fauna of the Vegan Worlds, Volume III-
The Fish ofAloysius, by Rapunzel K. Funk:

Gaid, also known as the night-tram- this is a splendid
fish of a lustrous black color, often reaching a length of
twenty feet The body is exceptionally well shaped, with an
almost round cross section. The head is large and blunt
with a single visual bulb, an aural pod, and a wide mouth,
which when open displays an impressive dentition. Imme-
diately behind the head and almost to the tail grows a row
of dorsal spines, to the number of fifty-one, each tipped
with a lummophor which at night emits a bright blue light.

By day the gaid swims beneath the surface, where it
feeds upon wracken, borse, and similar creatures. At sun-
down the night-train rises to the surface and cruises steadily
with all lights aglow

The pelagic voyages of the night-train remain a mys-
tery; the fish peregrinates on a direct course, as if to a spec-
ified destination. This may be a cape or an island or perhaps
an unmarked station in the middle of the ocean. Upon
reaching its destination, the night-tram halts, floats quietly
for half an hour, as if discharging cargo, or taking on pas-
sengers, or awaiting orders; then it swings about with ma-
jestic and ponderous deliberation. It hears a signal and sets
off once more to its next destination, which well may be
five thousand miles distant

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 795

To come upon this noble fish by night, as it cleaves the
black waters of the Aloysian oceans, is a stirring experience
indeed

Gersen felt restless, on edge. He went out into the evening and
wandered the crooked streets of Pontefract.

Somewhat to his surprise he found himself at St. Diarmid's Inn.
He halted and looked along what was by Pontefract standards a
garish facade, of pale blue and purple tiles. Gersen moved on, across
Mullawney Square into Portee Old Town, a tawdry district of tav-
erns, odd shops, artists' studios, fned-fish booths, and discreet
brothels, each showing an illuminated green-glass globe, in accor-
dance with ancient law. Presently he arrived at the waterfront.

He stood looking across Bottleglass Bay, to the far lights of
Port Rufus. A breeze brought him the smell of the Aloysian mud-
flats. Gersen had stood beside many shores, on many worlds. No
two had smelled alike. ... At the end of a nearby pier a string of
colored lights festooned the front of a restaurant. Gersen walked
out on the pier, looked into the restaurant, which seemed cheerful
and clean, with red-checkered cloths on the tables. The name of
the restaurant was Murdock's Bay View Grill.

Gersen entered and dined upon the house specialties, which
were in the main derived from the ocean Aloysian cooking tended
to blandness; Murdock, however, seemed to have no fear of sharp
herbs and piquant sauces. . .. Gersen sat a long time looking out
the windows toward the lights of Port Rums and listening to the
mutter of slow waves on the ancient piles below.

It seemed that as time went bv Gersen found himself ever more
susceptible to strange moods, to which no name could be applied.
In the early years his emotions focused along a single axis: hate,
grief, revengeful lust. He had been humorless, clenched, passionate
only in his dedication. Now there were numerous axes, in many
directions. Was the intensity thereby diluted^ A profitless line of
inquiry.. . His strategies, so he reflected, were at least partially ef-
fective. Howard Alan Treesong had been lured into tantalizing
proximity, conceivably in Pontefract itself Possibly at this instant
he strolled the cramped old streets, or took his ease in one of the
formal hotels, where now he sat thinking dire thoughts, contriving
plans.

796 FHE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen looked around the restaurant. Somewhere Howard
Treesong might be at his evening repast... . Among the patrons of
Murdock's Bay View Grill there was no tall spare man with a phi-
losopher's forehead and a cunning foxy )aw. Treesong was else-
where.

Gersen went to the telephone, called the Penwipers Hotel.

"Henry Lucas here. Has my friend Mr. Strand registered? . . .
No7 What about Mr. Sparkhammer^ . . . No one of that name ei-
ther^ . . . Then do me a service, if you please. With discretion—do
not mention my name—try to find where Mr. Strand and Mr.
Sparkhammer are staying."

"I'll do my best, sir."

Gersen returned to his table. Small chance of locating Treesong
so easily He must be teased, baited, and tricked, and Alice Wroke
must necessarily be the intermediary. It would be a fascinating
game, mused Gersen, especially since Alice thought him pompous,
stuffy, vain, overdressed, and silly.

Gersen departed the restaurant and returned to Penwipers. The
desk clerk, as expected, had been unable to locate either Mr. Strand
or Mr. Sparkhammer. Gersen assured him that the affair was of no
consequence and went to his room.

No one had passed through the door since his departure, the
telltale he had installed was still in place.

In the morning the valet outdid himself and dressed Gersen m a
costume so splendid that even the doorman stared in admiration.
Gersen arrived at the Extant offices to find Alice Wroke already at
her desk. Gersen gave her a civil greeting, to which she replied in
kind. Today she wore a knee-length skirt of a dark brown stuff and
an ash-beige singlet, which suited her coloring to perfection. The
costume showed her slender figure to advantage; her orange hair
had been brushed till it shone. Sitting at his desk, Gersen pre-
tended to ignore her presence. Several times, glancing across the
room, he found her eyes upon him, pondering, appraising, won-
dering.

Gersen went out into the contest workroom. Mrs. Ench
brought him a letter. "A near winner, Mr. Lucas' Perhaps even a
winner! And how very strange it all is'"

Gersen read the letter:

THE BOOK OP /WXVf.S 797

Contest Manager, Extant
Ponterract, Aloysius

Sirs.

1 can identify the persons in your photograph. It was
my duty to attend them at the terrible event which cost
them their lives This photograph was taken in the Rain-
flower Room at Wild Isle Inn. They are about to sup on
the charnay which unaccountably poisoned them all, save
only Mr. Sparkhammer. The names of those at the table
are, reading from left to right

Sharrod Yest

Dianthe de Trembuscule

Beatrice Utz

Robun Martiletto

Sabor Vidol

Stanley Sparkhammer

John Gray

The men standing are

lan Bilfred
A. Gleselman
Artemus Gadouth

I know their names from the place cards which I myself
prepared Two other men were present. Neither of them
ate charnay and so both survived. The picture, incidentally,
is customarily made m order to record the sign of the chef
who prepared each serving of charnay. The signs are the
little colored signal posts of each place. In this case the
wonder persists, as several chefs prepared the charnay. Poi-
son was evidently transmitted by a tainted utensil.

I trust that I have satisfied the conditions of your contest
and will win the prize.

Cletus Parsrval

Wild Isle Inn

W^ild Isle, Cyntherea Tempestre

"Most interesting," said Gersen. "The letter is evidently gen-
uine "

798 THE DEMON PRINCES

"So it seems to me." Mrs. Ench turned Gersen a curious glance.
"Did you know what this Parsival fellow tells us—that these men
died of poison?"

"I am as surprised as you. But it won't hurt Extant^s circula-
tion."

"Why would anyone eat this charnay if it is known to be poi-
son? Very strange goings-on!"

"Exactly so, Mrs. Ench."

"Well, this Mr. Parsival seems to have the names correctly,"
said Mrs. Ench.

"All except number six. Sparkhammer is not his proper name."

"Hmmf," said Mrs. Ench. "That number six is a will-o'-the-
wisp in the matter of identity."

"Yes, he seems a strange case."

"I'd be inclined to name Mr. Parsival the winner and let be,"
said Mrs. Ench. "Surely no one has given us so long a list."

"I'm inclined to agree," said Gersen. "But still we'll have to
wait out the rest of the contest. How is the mail?"

"About the same. Perhaps slacking a trifle."

"Very well, Mrs. Ench, keep up the good work. And ask your
people to be most attentive in regard to mention of number six."

"I will do so, Mr. Lucas." Unlike Alice Wroke, Mrs. Rnch
considered Gersen a polite and gracious gentleman, "without any
side to him," as she put it to her sister.

Gersen returned with the letter to his office.

Alice asked brightly, "Do you have exciting news?"

Gersen ponderously settled himself at his desk. Alice waited,
her face frozen in a mask of cheerful expectancy.

Gersen spoke in his most nasal and affected drawl. "As a matter
of fact, we have a letter identifying all our faces."

"Correctly?"

"He claims to have inscribed the place names at the banquet."

"Then the names would seem to be correct."

"Not necessarily. There is one very dubious identification."

"Oh? Which one?"

Gersen darted her a stern glance. "I'm not sure that it's proper
for me to comment upon these matters, Alice. Not just yet, any-
way."

Alice's face fell. She gave a small grimace. Gersen, watching
surreptitiously, thought: No'w she considers ho'w best to arrange her
begiiilements.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 799

Alice Jumped to her feet, went to the commode, where she
poured two cups of tea. She placed one of these before Gersen,
took the other to her own desk, where she poised herself, half-
leaning, half-sitting. "Have you always lived here in Pontefract, Mr.
Lucas?"

"I have traveled, of course, to many places."

Alice sighed. "Pontefract seems so impersonal, even a bit dreary
after five years at Wild Isle."

Gersen proffered no sympathy. "I can't understand why you
came here in the first place."

Alice gave a dainty shrug. "A dozen reasons. Wanderlust. Rest-
lessness. Have you ever visited Cytherea?"

"Never. I'm told that it's a most hedonistic environment, and
that the residents live very unconventional lives."

Alice laughed and turned Gersen a saucy side-glance. "In some
cases that's true. But not all. At Wild Isle you'll find every range
oflifestyle. My mother is almost as conventional as you."

Gersen raised his black eyebrows. "What? You consider me
conventional?"

"Yes, to some extent."

"Aha." Gersen gave a scornful grunt, as if to imply that Alice's
opinions were callow and superficial. "Tell me more about Wild
Isle. Is it true that criminals manage the casinos?"

"That is a considerable exaggeration," said Alice. "My father is
not a criminal."

"But no one ever wins."

"Naturally not."

"Do you ever go into the casinos?"

"No. It's not at all amusing."

"Wild Isle is a city?"

"It's more like a tourist resort: casinos, hotels, restaurants, yacht
harbors, beaches, and lots of little villas in the hills. It's no longer
wild, of course."

"Have you ever visited a charnay restaurant?"

Alice turned him a look of wary perplexity. "No."

"What is charnay like?"

"W^ell, it's a purple fruit with rough skin. Inside, tubes full of
poison run along the husk. The fruit itself is said to be delicious,
but I've never tried it. I don't want to die. And it's fearfully expen-


sive.

800 THE DKMON PRINCES

Gersen leaned back in his chair. "We've received a suggestion
that our contest photograph depicts a charnay banquet."

Alice picked up a copy of the photograph and examined it. "Yes
. . . That might well be true."

"Very strange! You might have passed some of these people in
the street."

Alice's response was cool. "Possible. But not likely. Thousands
of transients pass through Wild Isle. And there's no indication when
the picture was taken; it might be ten years old."

"It's a recent picture. Everyone has been identified, and we're
now into authentication."

"So someone has won the contest?"

"I made no such statement."

Alice asked ingenuously: "How did you come by the picture?"

"I rescued it from the trash can, as a matter of fact. But I
mustn't gossip about the contest; all results are not yet in. W^hy
don't you take the rest of the day off, Alice? I'll be busy away from
the office."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas. I don't quite know what to do with
myself. I'm acquainted with no one in town but yourself—and
you're so remote."

"WTiat nonsense!" declared Gersen. "You can't really think

i »<

so

"But I do! Perhaps you don't think it proper to have social
contacts with the staff. Is that company policy?"

"I'm sure there's no such rule."

"Do you think I'm dowdy and plain?"

"To the contrary," said Gersen in all sincerity. "I consider you
most engaging. Extraordinarily so. I'm sorry that you find Ponte-
fract so dreary. Perhaps we might have supper together sometime."

Alice's lips trembled. A smile? A grimace? In a demure voice
she said, "That would be nice. WTiy not tonight?"

"WTiy not indeed? . . . Let me see. Where are you staying?"

"St. Diarmid's Inn."

"I'll meet you in the lobby, at Median."

"I feel much better already, Mr. Lucas."

In Praise of Charnay!

Of all the good things to be had in this bountiful universe,
there is nothing to exceed a fine ripe charnay, except two
or three more of the same.

—from Gustations, by Michael Wiest

If one must die—and this seems to be the general fate—
why perform the act in mean and vulgar style? Rather, die
splendidly, in a manner all will envy, engorged with char-
nay.

—Gillian Seal, chef, musician, and bon vivant

Believe or disbelieve as you will, but a safe, salubrious, and
nonpoisonous charnay could easily be developed, grown,
and harvested. But every effort in this direction has been
thwarted by the Charnay Growers Association, nor is there
any great public clamor for such a development. Is it pos-
sible that the admittedly fine flavor of charnay is enhanced
by the presence of awful danger?

—Leon Wolke, journalist, writing for
Cosm-opolis,

who, two weeks after publication of his article,
ate improperly prepared charnay and died

St. Diarmid's Inn had passed through the hands of various owners.
Each had contributed original ideas to the decor, eventually pro-
ducing an effect of considerable novelty. The lobby occupied the

802 THE DEMON PRINCES

entire ground floor. Heavy columns, decorated in ancient Cretan
style, supported the ceiling, which was patterned in lavender and
pink. Beside each column Rhodanthus palms, in terra-cotta pots,
grew to the ceiling, where the bare boles terminated in balls of dark
green foliage. By Vegan standards the decor was garish. The move-
ment of many folk, in costumes from every corner of the Oileu-
mene, added life and drama to the hectic and vaguely disheveled
atmosphere which characterized St. Diarmid's.

Gersen arrived punctiliously on time, wearing what the valet
had considered appropriate for an informal evening on the town:

skintight black trousers, a shirt vertically striped in black, dark gray
and light gray, with a high black neckband in lieu of a cravat. The
black jacket, responsive to the dictates of high Pontefract style, was
cut away in front, cramped at the shoulders, and almost bell-shaped
around the hips. Gersen had refused a plumed hat, and the valet
somewhat sulkily had allowed him the use of a soft, square black
cap. With his harsh saturnine face, black curls, and pallid skin tone,
he made a striking picture, one which, however, brought him sat-
isfaction other than a kind of mischievous pleasure in playing dis-
guises and bemddling poor Alice Wroke.

Gersen saw her coming along the central aisle, looking diffi-
dently this way and that. Gersen examined her as if he had never
seen her before: the wistful mouth, short delicate nose, cheeks slant-
ing to a small chin. Tonight her orange hair hung loosely past her
ears, almost to the shoulders of her simple smoke gray frock.

She saw Gersen; her expression became charged with a syn-
thetic enthusiasm. She nipped up her hand in a gay greeting and
crossed the room at a half trot, to halt ten feet from Gersen. She
gave him an admiring head-to-toe inspection. "I must say, Mr. Lu-
cas, that you turn yourself out most elegantly."

"It's Penwipers all the way," said Gersen. "Give the credit to
my valet."

Alice heard him without any great comprehension. Still smiling
brightly she said, "Well then, where shall we dine7 Here? The
Escutcheon Room is pleasant."

"Too loud, too crowded," said Gersen. "I know a place far
more exclusive."

"I place myself completely in your hands," said Alice.

"This way then, out into the Vegan night."

They left St. Diarmid's and Alice gingerly took Gersen's arm.
"Where are we going3"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS S03

"It's a pleasant night," said Gersen. "We can walk, if you like."

"I don't mind."

They crossed Mullawney Square to Beaudry Lane, and so into
Partee Old Town. Unreal' muttered Gersen to himself. We walk
the streets of Pontefract, she in her masquerade, I in mine.

Alice sensed something of Gersen's mood. "Mr. Lucas, why are
you so somber?"

Gersen evaded the question. "You may call me Henry. We are
not at the office."

"Thank you. Henry." She looked uneasily over her shoulder.
"I haven't been in this part of town before."

"It's not at all like Wild Isle3"

"Not at all."

Presently they arrived at the waterfront and Murdochs Bay
View Grill. Alice considered Gersen thoughtfully. Mr. Lucas, so
stuffy and meticulous, seemed to have unconventional facets to his
character.

They sat in a corner of the restaurant, beside a window. Below
them the water heaved in slow swells and sighed through the piles;

stars and far lights reflected from the dark surface. Gersen asked,
"Can you find your home star5"

"I don't know the patterns from here."

Gersen looked around the sky. "It's already set But there's old
Sol yonder."

Their dinner was served a soup of native artichokes, a stew of
crustaceans, onions, and herbs bubbling in brown pots, a salad of
fresh greens. Alice nibbled at this and that, and in response to Ger-
sen's question, pleaded lack of appetite. She drank several glasses
of wine and achieved a degree of vivacity.

"And what of the contest5" she asked. "Is it still a mystery5
Especially from me5"

"Mystery5 No longer. But let's not talk shop. You're the mys-
tery. Tell me about yourself."

Alice frowned out across Bottleglass Bay "There's nothing
much to tell. Life at Wild Isle isn't all that exciting, except for the
tourists."

"I'm still baffled about why you came to Pontefract."

"Oh—circumstances."

Dessert was served, fruit tarts and heavy coffee smothered with
cream, in accordance with Aloysian taste.

Gersen, who felt that he had lapsed far enough from character,

804 I'HF DKMON PRINCES

attempted a ponderous analysis of Pontefract politics, of which he
knew next to nothing. Alice sat apathetically, looking out the win-
dow across the dark water, her own thoughts obviously not focused
on Gersen's remarks.

Finally Gersen asked: "Where now? There isn't much enter-
tainment m Pontefract, except at the Mummery, and we're too late
for the program. Would you care for a carouse in one of the taverns
along the docks?"

"No ... I suppose we should go back to the hotel."

A top-heavy old cab conveyed them back to St. Diarmid's Inn.

In the lobby Gersen halted and performed a pontifical bow, as
if to take his leave. Alice said quickly, "Oh, please don't go so
soon." Looking off across the lobby she spoke m a carefully offhand
voice. "You can come up to my room, if you like."

Gersen protested politely. "But you must be tired."

Still looking away and with a trace of a flush coming over her
face, Alice said, "No. Not really. In fact, I'm—well, lonely."

Gersen bowed formally once again, in acquiescence. "In that
case I'll be happy to come up with you." He took her arm; they
went to the lift and rode up to the fourth floor.

Alice opened the door and walked into the room, rigid as a
prisoner.

Gersen followed warily. He halted m the doorway and surveyed
the room. Alice watched incuriously, not even troubling to inquire
the reasons for his vigilance.

Reassured, Gersen came slowly forward. He closed the door.
"Henry," said Alice breathlessly. "May I call you Henry?"

"I've told you so already."

"I forgot. Isn't that idiotic? Let me take your hat and coat."

Gersen tossed the hat into a chair and relinquished his coat.
"That's a relief. The Pontefract tailors have no concept of the hu-
man form."

"Sit down. Henry—there."

Gersen obediently eased himself down upon the couch. Alice
brought a silver tray from the sideboard. "What is all this?" asked
Gersen.

"Candied flower petals. Hydromel crystals. This is Liquor of
Life, from Sirsse " She poured clear green tincture into a pair of
small bowls. "At home, lovers drink Sirsse together," said Alice.
"Of course we've not lovers, you and I, but.. ."

THE BOOK OF DRE.4MS 805

"But what?"

"Oh—nothing particular."

Gersen tasted the liquor, which seemed heady and subtle.

Alice asked, "Do vou like it?"

"It's unusual, certainly. And very fragrant."

Alice settled beside him and sipped from her own bowl. "It
makes me feel shudder)'." Gersen was surprised to find his arm
around her shoulders, he had intended to maintain his decorum.
She relaxed against him and he kissed her—rather more than sheer
decorum mii^ht have dictated

Alice looked at him with pupils dark and dilated. Gersen asked,
"What's wrong2 Have I offended you2"

"Oh no." She laughed nervously. "You frighten me, just a little.
You're so different from Mr. Lucas at the office I don't know how
to describe it "

"There's definitely only one of me."

She poured out more of the liquor. "Drink."

"The lovers' potion2"

"If you want to call it that."

"Do you have another lover2"

"No...Whatofyou="

"I'm quite alone."

Alice put up her face and he kissed her again. Her dress fell
apart at the front, revealing her torso and a small round breast. She
seemed not at all perturbed

Gersen heaved a deep sigh. "This can't go any further."

"No2" Alice touched his cheek.

"I can't dispel a cruel suspicion."

Alice stared at him m consternation "WTiat do you mean?"

"I'd be very hurt to learn that you were cultivating me only to
gain information about the contest. Absurd, of course."

Alice sat tense and pale. "Absurd, indeed."

"Well, then, could we be lovers if I told you nothing whatever
about the contest2"

"This becomes so intellectual. . . 1 couldn't love someone who
places no trust in me "

"In other words—no "

"But I don't want it to be that way," said Alice earnestly.

Gersen reflected a moment. "It seems that, to demonstrate my
trust, I must tell you everything I know."

806 I HP DI-MON PRINCES

"If you wish."

"Very well, why not7" Gersen stretched his legs out and put
his hands behind his head. "There's really not much to tell. The
persons in the picture have been identified, all except one, whose
identity is known to us under a different name " From his pocket
Gersen brought a list, from which he read names: "Yest, de Trem-
buscule, Utz, Bilfred, Vidol, Sparkhammer, Gray, Gadouth, Gie-
selman, Martiletto; all correct except 'Sparkhammer,' who is know
by dozens of other names. No one has submitted his real name.
Does that surprise you?"

"No. Why should it?"

Gersen tossed the list upon the table and leaned back once.
"Because he would seem to be a notorious criminal named Howard
Alan Treesong."

"Howard Alan Treesong? That can't be true!"

"Why not?"

Alice had no answer.

"The people in the photograph are all dead—except number
six, who is Treesong. What does that suggest to you?"

Alice, with her thoughts far away, responded with a gloomy
shrug. "I don't understand any of this."

"There's another aspect to the matter," said Gersen. "If num-
ber six is Howard Treesong—and he surely is—I'd like to interview
him. Extant could very profitably use such a piece, or a short au-
tobiography. I wish I knew some way to get this message to him. I
want him to communicate with me."

Alice stared across the room and away into nothingness. Gersen
rose to his feet. He picked up his coat and hat Alice looked up and
spoke in a husky half whisper. "Are you going7"

Gersen nodded. "I've told you everything I know "

"But you haven't!" Alice blurted despairingly. "How did you
get the photograph?"

"I walked into the Cosmopolis library: I looked into the trash
basket and found this photograph. No one could tell me anything
about it, and so the Extant contest was born."

"Who put the picture into the trash basket5"

"A young and foolish clerk."

"Still—why did you choose this particular photograph2 There
must have been many others equally suitable."

"Someone unknown had written 'Treesong is here' on the pic-

THE BOOK Of- ORMMS 807

ture. I became interested because there are no known likenesses of
Treesong available. I felt that the picture would have considerable
news value. As it happens, that is the case "

Alice sat silently. Gersen went to the door. "Good night."

Alice looked at him with a tired gaze. "I wonder how much you
know of me."

"Not a great deal. Is there anything you want to tell me7 Trust
works both ways."

Alice gave her head a sad shake. "I haven't anything to tell."

"Good night then."

"Good night."

Alice sat where Gersen had left her, leaning back on the couch, legs
stretched out, a wintry expression on her face. She ran her fingers
through her orange hair, pushing the curls back from her forehead
into a tangle. For ten minutes she sat deep in reverie. Then, rousing
herself, she went to the telephone and made a complicated con-
nection.

A voice spoke. "Alice, so early? You're a pair of fast workers."

Alice responded in a level voice. "I have your information. The
persons in the photograph are as follows—" She read names from
the list Gersen had left behind.

"What is the source of these names?"

"All the different entries. There's also at least one entry listing
the names all correctly, except one."

"And which name is that7"

"Mr. Lucas said that 'Sparkhammer' seems to use many differ-
ent names: Fred Framp, Bentley Strange, Howard Alan Treesong.
. .. I've forgotten the rest."

A silence. Then in a different voice, calm and meditative,
"WT^at did Mr. Lucas make of this?"

"I think he's anxious that Mr. Sparkhammer, or Mr Treesong,
should get m touch with him for an interview. He wants to publish
Mr. Treesong's autobiography."

The response was prompt and definite. "He is doomed to dis-
appointment Mr. Sparkhammer, or Mr. Treesong, whatever his
name, has no taste for such a vulgar antic. How did Extant come
into possession of the photograph3"

"Mr. Lucas found it in a trash basket in the Covrnopolis library.
A clerk had thrown it away."

"Odd, most odd . . . Are these facts?"

S08 I'HF DFMON PRINCPS

"1 think so."

"How did the photograph arrive at CosmopohsV

"I didn't think to ask; I suppose it came in whatever way is
usual."

"And what led him to select this particular photograph?"

"Someone had written on it 'Treesong is here.' That attracted
Mr. Lucas's attention."

"So he proposed a contest to identify Mr. Treesong and his
colleagues."

"That is what he told me."

"Did he say why7"

"He said he very much wanted to publish Mr. Treesong's au-
tobiography. As I told you, he wants Mr. Treesong to get in touch
with him."

"Small chance of that. Mr. Treesong is very busy with urgent
affairs." Mr. Strand became silent, for so long an interval that Alice
began to fidget. Then: "What else did he tell you7"

"Not very much. He knows that the photograph was taken at
Wild Isle, and that everyone died of charnay except Mr. Sparkham-

n

mer.

Another long silence. Then: "Very good, Alice. In the main
you have done well."

"I can go back home7 And you will do as you promised?"

"Not yet' Oh dear no, not yet' You must remain at your post!
Keep your eyes and ears open. This Henry Lucas person, what do
you make of him7"

Alice spoke in a bleak voice: "I don't know what to make of
him. He's a contradiction."

"Hmmf. That tells me nothing. But no matter, continue as
before. Tomorrow I am going away; and for a day or so you will
not be able to reach me. Continue your intimacy with Mr. Lucas.
I have a feeling that there is something more here, beyond what he
has told you."

"For how long7"

"In due course I will let you know."

"Mr. Strand, I've done all I can' Please—"

"Alice, I have no time for your complaints. Continue as before
and all will be well. Is this understood7"

"I suppose so."

"Good night then "

"Good night "

Excerpt from an address by Nicholas Reid, Fellow of
the Institute, Phase 88, at the Madera Technical Col-
lege:

The Institute is dedicated to human excellence. We try
to augment beneficial processes and discourage those which
are morbid and septic.

Our credo derives from the history of the human race,
which evolved across millions of years in the natural envi-
ronment.

What happens when a saltwater fish is transferred into
fresh water7 It goes into spasms and dies. Consider, then,
a creature whose every sense, capability, and instinct have
been shaped by the natural environment, by interaction
with sun, wind, clouds, rain; the look of mountains and far
horizons, the taste of natural food, contact with the soil.
WTiat happens when this creature is transferred to a syn-
thetic environment3 He becomes neurotic, a victim of hys-
terical fads, willful hallucination, sexual perversion. He
deals with abstractions rather than facts, and so becomes
mtellectuahzed and incompetent. Confronted with a real
challenge, he screams, curls into a ball, closes his eyes, be-
fouls himself, and waits. He is a pacifist who fears to defend
himself.

From Better Understanding of the Institute, by Charles
Bronstem (82):

IHF DI-MON PRINCES

Urbanized men and women experience not life but the
abstraction of life, on ever higher levels of refinement and
dislocation from reality They become processors of ideas,
and have evolved such esoteric occupations as the critic, the
critic who criticizes criticism, and even the critic who crit-
icizes criticism of criticism It is a very sad misuse of human
talent and energy

From The Institute A Pf imef, by Mary Murray

Our tutelar}' genius is the titan Antaeus
Urbanity is an unnatural habitude.

Are we elitist, as it is often asserted^ Well, we surely do not
consider ourselves the dregs of society

We approve of contrast, social disequilibrium, extremes of
wealth Often we are accused of sponsoring chaos, however,
this has never been admitted

The Urbanites Strike Back'
"Elitist prigs'"

"If they like the Pleistocene so much, why don't they wear
skins and live m caves5"

"Residents of very lofty and very remote ivory towers which
they confuse with 'natural habitat' "

"I'd rather push a pencil in an air-conditioned office than
push a wheelbarrow in the mud "

In almost the same terms

"I'd rather pick flaws in someone's manuscript than pick
tomatoes in the hot sun "

Again
"I'd rather drive my Fissel Flasher than a balky mule "

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 811

Gersen stood at a window of his sitting room at Penwipers, brood-
ing down across old Tara Square The time was midnight, Tara
Square was dark and still Starlight illuminated the roofs of Pon-
teftact, casting black shadows down tall gables, under crooked eaves
and thousands of crotchety chimney pots

Gersen's mood was reflected in his posture, he felt morose and
drained of energy The great scheme had failed The program had
gone with precision Howard Treesong had reacted as positively as
Gersen could have hoped, in Alice Wroke he had found a conduit
leading to Treesong Then, almost casually, defeat. For whatever
motives—pride, press of affairs, the workings of his uncanny war-
iness—Howard Treesong had refused to consider the publication
of his autobiography, or so much as an interview.

There was no further leverage to be found in the contest In
the morning he would put Mrs Ench in charge of the entire pro)-
ect

What next5 Alice Wroke remained his single avenue of access
to Howard Treesong, but the linkage had become fragile and un-
certain.

Two questions remained unanswered How did Howard Tree-
song control Alice Wroke3 Why had Howard Treesong poisoned
nine people with charnay5

The answers were probably to be found at W^ild Isle, but, so
Gersen reflected glumly, the information would most likely be stale
and useless

Of far more interest what was Howard Treesong's present "ur-
gent business"7

Of this Alice Wroke evidently knew nothing No other source
of information suggested itself

Gersen looked over the starlit roofs In the pubs of Partee Old
Town lights would still be burning. He looked toward St Diarmid's
Inn and wondered if Alice Wroke was still awake

Gersen turned away from the window and stood motionless
Then he threw off the Penwipers shirt, donned a dark gray space-
man's blouse, pulled a soft cap down over his forehead, and started
for the door    A chime at the communicator turned him back
He stood frowning at the instrument Who would be calling him
at this hour^

The screen came alive and presented the long pale face of
Maxel Rackrose "Mr Lucas5"

812 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Speaking."

Rackrose spoke in a carefully languid voice. "The information
you wanted—authentications and so forth—has come together, ex-
cept for a few bits and pieces."

Maxel Rackrose spoke with such hushed restraint that Gersen
instantly became alert. Rackrose said without any great conviction,
"I do hope I haven't jerked you from your bed?"

"No. I was on my way out the door."

"Then why don't you step over to the office for a few minutes?
I think you'll be interested in what's turned up."

'Til be right there."

The Cosmopolis offices were never closed; work proceeded every
hour of the day, every day of the year. A tall glass door whisked
aside at Gersen's approach; he entered the foyer, where luminous
slabs of colored glass blacked out a Mercator map of Earth.

Gersen rode a lift high into the North Tower and so to the
offices of Maxel Rackrose, who now used the title Superintendent
of Miscellaneous Operations. The outer chamber, which reflected
Rackrose's pose of fastidious sophistication, was an exercise in the
most exquisite excesses of the High Clapshott style. The inner
room, where Rackrose spent most of his time, was a jungle of dis-
order. A long table supported stacks of books and periodicals, pa-
pers, photographs, oddments, curios, and perplexing trifles of junk.
There were several stools, a communicator, a complicated device
for the brewing of tea, another for the projection of kaleidoscopic
patterns on the wall, an attenuated statue of a nude womaiT nine
feet tall, whose belly opened on the hour to permit a bird to step
forth and cry "cuckoo."

Rackrose, a tall, angular young man in expensive if unconven-
tional garments, with a long, somewhat equine face, lank blond hair,
and heavy-lidded blue eyes, greeted Gersen in a carefully offhand
manner. "Sit down, if you will." He waved a limp white hand to-
ward one of his precious antique chairs. "Perhaps you'd take a cup
of tea? And a biscuit?"

"That would be nice."

With tea poured and anise cakes set forth, Rackrose settled into
a chair beside a kidney-shaped table. "And how goes your contest?"

"Quite well. One entry names nine of ten, and if no one does

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 813

better I think we'll nominate him the winner. What of your au-
thentications?"

Rackrose leaned back, pressed the tips of his fingers together,
looked toward the ceiling with pursed lips.

"In accordance with your instructions, I processed all available
information. I started with the Index' and information from our
own files. I may say that there was no trouble with authentication.
The subjects are persons of substance and reputation. Except for
number six. None of his purported names correlates with anything
other than disreputable activities. In short, he seems to be a crim-
inal."

"What of the others?"

"Aha! That's where we make an interesting discovery. I found
recurring references to the Institute, and such remarks as 'said to
rank high in the hierarchy,' and 'an apparently high-ranking Fel-
low.' In fact, Beatrice Utz is identified as '103.' Artemus Gadouth
was the Triune."2 Maxel Rackrose paused to allow Gersen to reflect
upon the implications of his information.

Gersen studied the photograph, which he already knew in mi-
nute detail. A startling suspicion formed in Gersen's mind, an idea
strange and terrible, "Ten faces; could it be the Dexad?"

"The same idea occurred to me," said Rackrose.

Gersen reflected a moment. Rackrose knew nothing of the

1. A directory or identities, originally compiled by the IPCC and continually augmented
by other agencies. The Index includes the records of history social welfare registrations,
military rosters, passenger lists of interplanetary vessels, birth, marriage, and death records,
telephone directories, school and university graduation lists; criminal identifications, the
memberships of clubs, associations, and fellowships, names culled from the daily news bv
automatic scanners.

2. The Institute grades its Fellows with Ranks 1 through 111- Number 111 is the Triune.
Ranks 110 and 100 are always empty

Ranks 101 through 109 are limited to a single Fellow- With the Triune, these ranks
make up the Dexad, though as often the nine Fellows from 101 through 109 are known
as the Dexad.

Fellows advance from 101 to Triune in order of precedence.
Three Fellows only occupy Rank 99. When a vacancy occurs in the Dexad, usually by
reason of death, surviving Fellows elect one of die three 99s to fill the vacancy

From the three Fellows in Rank 98, one is elected to Rank 99- Similarly, Fellows
advance up the ranks from 90- Below 90, there is no limit upon the Fellows allowed into
each rank

To achieve Rank 89 is difficult. To attain Rank 99 is much more difficult. A Fellow
elected to Rank 101 has a good chance of becoming Triune. This is not necessarily true
in Rank 99, where a Fellow who has made enemies among the Dexad may never be
advanced

814 THE DEMON PRINCES

charnay poisonings, nor did he realize that number six was Howard
Alan Treesong. He asked, "Who ranks highest locally?"

Rackrose frowned toward the ceiling. "There's a hermit out on
Boniface who is supposed to rank high. I've heard he's in the Dexad.
If so, this picture would not seem to be the Dexad, because there's
no one here from Boniface."

"Who ranks high in Pontefract?"

"I'm not sure. Let me ask Condo; he knows such things." Rack-
rose spoke into the communicator using a soft voice only a trifle
louder than a whisper. He made notes on a pad of pale pink paper.
"Good enough." He turned back to Gersen with a page torn from
his pad. "Her name is Leta Goynes. She lives at seventeen Flaherty
Crescent, out in Bray, and she might be as high as a sixty or sixty-
five."

Gersen took the address to his own small office, which was far less
splendid than that of Maxel Rackrose. At his communicator he
placed a call. A moment passed, then an unemphatic female voice
spoke. "Leta Goynes here."

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Mrs. Goynes. My
name is Kirth Gersen, and I want to consult you on a matter of
great importance."

"Now?"

"Unfortunately yes. It's Institute business of extreme urgency.
If you'll allow me, I'll come directly out to your house."

"Where are you now?"

"At the Cosmopolis offices."

"Take Transit to Bray Junction; a cab will bring you out to
Flaherty Crescent."

As Gersen approached the cottage at 17 Flaherty Crescent, the door
slid back; backlighted in the opening stood a dark-haired woman,
sturdy, solid, and obviously in good physical condition. She gave
Gersen a cursory inspection and stood back. Gersen entered; the
door closed behind him. "This way," said Leta Goynes, and led
him to a neat parlor. "Tea?"
"Yes, please."

She poured and handed Gersen a cup. "Sit anywhere you like."
"Thank you." Gersen seared himself; Leta Goynes remained
standing, a rather handsome woman in her early maturity, her black

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 815

hair cut close to her head, her eyes dark and direct under strong
black eyebrows. "There is no Kirth Gersen known to Cosmopolis."

"For a good reason. I call myself Henry Lucas, Special Writer."

"You are a Fellow?"

"No longer. At Phase eleven I discovered that the Institute and
I often worked at odds with each other."

Leta Goynes, smiling faintly, inclined her head in a terse nod.
"So then?"

Gersen handed her the contest photograph. "Have you seen
this? It appeared in Extant."

"I haven't seen it before."

"What do you make of it?"

"Nothing particular."

"You recognize no one?"

"No one."

"It might well be the Dexad. Artemus Gadouth is this gentle-
man. He is Triune, as I suppose you are aware."

Leta Goynes nodded. "I've never met him."

"This is Sharrod Yest. .. Dianthe de Trembuscule . . . Beatrice
Utz, rank one hundred three . . . lan Bilfred . . . This gentleman
calls himself Sparkhammer . . . Sabor Vidol, rank ninety-nine . . .
John Gray . . . Gadouth . . . Gieselman, rank one hundred six ...
Robun Martiletto." Gersen paused.

Leta Goynes said, "This is not the entire Dexad. There are
three persons—those numbers five, six, and seven—who are prob-
ably ninety-nine. Last month we lost Eimo Shookey. This banquet
precedes, so I presume, the elevation of a ninety-nine."

"The elevation may not have occurred," said Gersen. "All ex-
cept number six were poisoned by charnay."

Leta Goynes's face became cool and faintly scornful. "The In-
stitute is not only strong; it is flexible. Normal adjustments are
being made."

"In this case the adjustment will not be so easy. The survivor,
number six, poisoned the others. His name is Howard Alan Tree-
song."

Leta Goynes stared at the photograph. "That is terrible infor-
mation—if it is true. And I see that it must be true. . . . How did
he gain rank ninety-nine?"

"Through fraud, extortion, fear, mind bending—so I suppose.
Certainly he never rose through the ranks. But a more important

816 THE DEMON PRINCES

question: What members of the Dexad are missing from the pic-
ture? And where are these members?"

Leta Goynes managed a harsh cold laugh. "Under the circum-
stances that becomes highly important information."

"True. And I might be one ofTreesong's colleagues."

"Or Treesong himself"

Gersen handed her Jehan Addels's business card. "Telephone
this man. He is a local resident of good reputation. Ask him what-
ever vou like about me."

Leta Goynes went to the communicator. "First I will ask some-
one about Jehan Addels."

She made a set of guarded inquiries, watching Gersen mean-
while from the corner of her eye. Then she telephoned Jehan Ad-
dels. After some delay he responded, displeased that his rest had
been disturbed. Gersen spoke to him: "This lady is Leta Goynes.
Answer any questions she cares to ask."

Leta Goynes questioned Addels for fifteen minutes, then slowly
turned away from the communicator. She had gradually resumed
that manner typical of the Institute's upper ranks: a serene and
exasperating indifference to events, including personal convenience.

"Addels gives you a remarkable reputation." She thoughtfully
sipped her tea, then spoke in a pensive voice: "The Institute tends
to ignore ordinary social problems, even criminals as egregious as
Howard Treesong. Still. . ." Leta Goynes set her chin. "I will give
you your information. Three of the Dexad are not present in the
photograph. They are one hundred one, one hundred two, and one
hundred seven. The death of one hundred seven was the occasion
for the conclave, one hundred one lives in isolation on Boniface, at
a place called Athmore Violet, in the wildest part of World's Moil.
His name is Dwyddion and he is our Triune, although he may not
know it, since he sees no one and refuses to communicate."

"And what of one hundred two?"

Leta Goynes smiled a strange crooked smile. "His name is Ben-
jamin Wroke. He drowned in the Shanaro Sea. Last week his body
was washed up on the beach at Cele, which is near Wild Isle."

From Everyman's Guide to the Stars:

Vega; Alpha Lyrae:

... The three inner planets, Padraic, Mona, Noaille,
are cinders of scorched stone, baking in the austere glare
of the Great White Star. Noaille holds one face steady to
Vega, and is noteworthy for the rains of liquid mercury
which fall on the dark side, flow to the hot side where they
vaporize, and return to the dark side.

Next are the inhabited worlds: Aloysius, Boniface, and
Cuthbert. Cuthbert is humid and unpleasantly marshy, with
few areas comfortably habitable, in part due to the numer-
ous insects which give Cuthbert its sobriquet: "Bug Hun-
ter's Paradise."

Aloysius is next in orbit, temperate, if damp, and most
densely populated of the Vegan worlds.

The early history of Aloysius is dominated by rivalry
between religious sects; the effects of the hatred and warfare
so engendered persist to the present, most especially in the
countryside, in the form of provincial suspiciousness. The
cities Pontefract, New Wexford, Yeo are relatively cosmo-
politan.

Boniface, outermost and largest of the habitable worlds,
is gloomy, dank, and like a caricature of the other two,
exaggerating all the harshness and oddities of its sister plan-
ets. The oceans are bedeviled by awful storms, the land
masses are notable for an extravagant topography: vast
plains supine to the force of winds and rain; mountains,

81S 1HF DFMON PRINCES

caves, crags, chasms, broad rivers flowing from sea. to sea
Here and there the land allows habitation, though never
ease or comfort.

From earliest times the shrewd and provident folk of
\loysms, wresting value from dross, used the inhospitable
wastes of Boniface as a penal settlement, and here were
discharged the atheists, incorngibles, and irredeemables of
the Vegan worlds

Arriving at Port Swaven, the convicts were processed at
a staging compound operated by the Order of St Jedasias
A certain Abbot Nahut, through divine revelation, received
instruction in a new regimen to which arriving convicts
must be subjected, the better to prepare them for life on
Boniface The methods were drastic and unique Many of
the survivors suffered genetic damage which stabilized, and
a new human species was thereby more or less accidentally
created These were the "Fops," one of the curiosities of
the human universe The typical FO)O was tall, with thin
arms and legs, big hands and feet, gnarled heavy features,
and a shock of white quills in place of hair The Fops be-
came functionally the indigenous race of Boniface and mi-
grated to all the most sheltered nooks, crannies, and lonely
valleys of their harsh world.

In a few little towns—Slayman, Cashel Creary, Na-
hutty, Kaw Doon, Fiddletown—a few ordinary men and
women operate shops and agencies and perform technical
services, dealing with the FO)OS in a state of mutual distaste

The Order of St Jedasias is long extinct, but by one of
the more acrid cosmic ironies, the FO)OS still espouse a var-
iant of the Jedasian creed, and in every little FO)O village
exists a square Jedasian church

Time suddenly had become a critical factor, inasmuch as Dwyd-
dion, hermit and new Triune, must surely represent one of Howard
Treesong's "urgent affairs " Gersen made all possible haste, from
Leta Govnes's cottage to the spaceport, aboard his Fantamn Flit-
tenvmg, and away into space

The automatic pilot sw^ng the boat high over Vega and down
on the opposite side, to where Boniface coasted in orbit A primitive
world, with nothing of value to be plundered, looted, or kidnapped,

7 HE BOOK OF DRE/1\J^ 819

Boniface lacked all entry controls, Gersen dropped unchallenged
down to the harsh blue-black-and-white disk

Gersen searched the Vegan Gazetteef, but found only a single
vague reference to Athmore Violet The Skak Range ran diagonally
across a section known as World's Moil, in the middle of St Cro-
decker's continent Along the southern flanks of the Skak, the river
Meaughe meandered down Meaughe Vale, where Gersen noted the
town Poldoolie, which might well be a source of local information

The surface of Boniface, obscured by clouds and camouflaged
by cloud shadows, revealed no obvious landmarks Gersen oriented
himself with the help ot radio beacons, calculated the coordinates
of the town Poldoolie, and slanted down into the heavy atmosphere

Over Meaughe Vale the sky was clear Gersen located Pol-
doolie, a huddle of stone structures beside a growth of purple
voitch ' Gersen descended in a spiral and landed the Flittering in
a soggy meadow a quarter mile east of the town

The time was local noon Gersen stepped from the Fhttef'wi'ng
into a dank cold wind smelling of mud and rancid vegetation.

Out from the town bounded a dozen gangling ragamuffins, the
larger thrusting the smaller aside, the smaller cursing and tripping
the larger. All wore dirty white smocks which they hiked up as they
ran, revealing white legs and knobby knees Their heads were nar-
row, their facial structures crude and gnarled Irorn each narrow
scalp rose a bush of stiff white spines The first to arrive halted two
feet from Gersen and screamed "I'm the guardian, I'm here first,
the others are smashers, pay them naught' I'm Keak, for me the
gautch "

"Gautch3 What is gautcrr" asked Gersen

"That is my payment I want either five SVU or five picture
books"

The other boys cried out in eager voices "Give him books for
gautch' Good books, with bosers' Vetch bosers1"

"Bosers3 What are bosers2"

The question evoked strangled guffaws Keak wiped his mouth
and explained "Bosers—with the wide areas and no clothes on
Yetch they're the good bosers'"

1 -\ single org.mism comparable tu A gi^ntiL lichen voin-h supports a bliLk mat ten
tttt thick on [BVMIV or pale gra\ stilks ntn CLLI till C ercain growths ut ^oitch are poi
sonous others predatory and carnuurou'i I he benign specimens furnish food drink hber
shelter and pharmaceutical-,

820 THE Dt- MON PRINCE S

"I see," said Gersen "And suppose I pay neither coin nor pic-
tures of naked bosers—then what5"

"Then the smashers—those ugly chuts yonder' They'll muck
up your ferberator crystals and pour stale dog piss into your air
intakes So pay up and I'll fend them off "

Gersen considered "How can you control so many smashers5"

"They know better than to flout me Cukkms' Tell what I'll do
to you "

"Faith, and I smash so much as a twittle, he'll shove me head
up my own bum He's a scarfer, is Keak, and he knows how to do
it"

Gersen nodded "Well, Keak, I see that you mean business
Still, I think I had better make sure of everyone This way, then,
around the boat, I've got fine things in the cargo hatch for lads like
you"

"Eh5" asked a small youth "What sort of fine things2"

"What of boser books5" asked Gersen "Dozens of them, all
rotten scurrilous'"

"That's the talk'" cried Keak "Let's have a look'"

"This way " Gersen went around the ship, followed by the
youths, loping and hopping. Gersen slid open the cargo port and
drew down the ladder He pointed to Keak. "First choice goes to
you, quick now, I can't waste time."

Keak hopped up the ladder, followed by the others, with Gersen
at the rear

"There's naught for light in here," croaked Keak "Make light'
Show us bosers "

"Wide arse, big udders "

Gersen touched a button, light came to the chamber, which
was starkly empty

"Hey'" called Keak "There's naught here'"

Gersen grinned "Only a clutch of young blackguards I'm go-
ing now about my business and I'm locking you in If you make
any mess I'll fly you into the mountains and turn you out, and you
won't be home for supper tonight So mind your conduct'"

Gersen backed down the ladder, closed and locked the hatch
He set off across the dank meadow and presently found a lane which
flanked a stagnant drainage ditch choked with magenta slime

At the outskirts of town he passed a small cottage, raised from

THE BOOK OF DRHAM^ 821

the bog on posts Under the porch crouched an old man, sorting
rocks from a sack into three piles

Gersen called out, "Hoy' Can you direct me to Athmore Vio-
let5 I can't find it on my map.'

The old man merely crouched in the shadow Thinking that he
had not been heard, Gersen approached. The old man threw a cloth
over his rocks and, spraddling on long legs like an ungainly spider,
scrambled back into the muck under his house.

Gersen turned away and continued along the lane, passing an-
other cottage, somewhat more substantial, with a black energy unit
on the roof, surmounted by a religious fetish In the gateway of the
low wall stood a man wearing a tall conical hat

Gersen halted and tendered an affable greeting. "Good day,
sir"

"Yes, yes," replied the FO)O in a patronizing drawl.

Gersen )erked a thumb toward the first cottage "Why does the
old man hide under his house5"

The FO)O chuckled at Gersen's naivete "He is a miner, isn't
that clear5 Those are his new ores Look under the house, notice
how his eyes gleam' He carries a bylo-by Had you touched his ores
he would have blown away your head and ears "

"I only want information Where is Athmore Violet5 My map
doesn't show it"

"Naturally not At Athmore Violet Bugardoig mines alexan-
drites'"

"I am not interested in alexandntes I want to find a man who
lives nearby Can you direct me to Athmore Violet5"

The FOJO )erked his thumb toward the town "Bugardoig is the
man to ask "

"I'm in a hurry I don't want to waste time looking for Bugar-
doig "

"Rest easy, he will find you as soon as he notices your vessel
on his water meadow, and he won't waste time "

"What of yourself5 Do you care to earn a hundred SVU5 Help
me find my friend "

"Near Athmore Violet, you say That must be the hermit of
Voymont "

"He is a solitary man, true "

"Athmore Violet and Voymont perilous parts, if only because
of Bugardoig's mines "

822 I HE DEMON PRINCF S

From inside the cottage came a hoarse voice "Take the money,
Lippold Do as required' It is a small thing "

Lippold made no acknowledgment of the advice Apparently he
had lost interest in Gersen and stood staring serenely off across
Meaughe Vale Overhead the sky broke apart and Vega darted light
of resplendent clarity across the landscape Objects came alive with
color swamp gorse in maroon and ocher, the mountains behind
Poldoolie blue-black and white; the voitch, purple, with an inex-
plicable blue-green umbra below. The clouds closed like a trap,
Vega-light was gone Lippold stood unmoved by the sudden
splendor and its equally abrupt disappearance Gersen turned away
and continued toward the town an irregular huddle of stone huts,
sties, stables, and sheds, a dozen shops and agencies, a tavern, a
squat Jedasian church

Above, clouds from east and west collided They swirled and
churned, rain began to fall Gersen looked over his shoulder, Lip-
pold, in a blur of rain, stood as before

Gersen ran into town and took shelter under the eaves of a
shuttered mechanic's shop Only the tavern seemed open for busi-


ness

Gersen waited a moment The ram continued to fall m gray
sheets, momentarily illuminated with flashes of lightning Gersen
saw tall figures loping through the drench toward the tavern, paus-
ing at the door to shake and kick off the wet, then enter For a
moment the rain paused. During the lull Gersen ran up the street
to the tavern

He entered a long room, with a counter to one side, benches
and tables to the other. A line of high windows with panes of yellow
mica allowed a dreary light into the room At the tables sat groups
of FO|OS, hunched over cups of mulled liquor The pungence of hot
brew mingling with the sour steam of wet clothes and damp flesh
brought a twitch to Gersen's nostrils

As he advanced into the room, all conversation halted and all
heads turned and rows of milk blue eyes scrutinized Gersen Each
man wore a stocking cap pulled down over his spike of hair, similar
caps hung on poles beside each table Gersen nodded politely to
the company and went to the counter The barman, wiping great
hands on the dirty towel tied around his stomach, approached
"What is your want2"

I HE BOOK OF DREAMS 823

"I'd like a few words with someone named Bugardoig," said
Gersen "Is the gentleman here at the moment2"

"There's no Alois Bugardoig here, and what are you needing
from him that you wouldn't be better without2 And will you not
wear a hat5 Where's your manners3"

"Sorry, I don't own a hat "

"No matter, you'd look a silly )ape with the prut hanging past
your cheek like a spent coigel Aha, who is this2"

Into the tavern lumbered a man, thick and heavy, with slit pale
blue eyes almost closed by bulging apple-red cheeks He went to a
pole, took off a "prut," and with a deft twist brought it down over
his spike of hair Gersen turned to the barman "Is that Bugardoig2"

"Ha-ha' That's cause for laughter, or—should you be Bugar-
doig—a great twinge of rage That is Looke Hollop, and he empties
the town swill Notice his arms He's a strong man, is Hollop, but
never like Bugardoig Are you drinking7 Do you like our boiled
twirps2"

"What else do you serve7"

"Little else It's good enough for us, are you for fluting and
luting with your nose over our good twirps2"

"Never," said Gersen "Be good enough to serve me a portion "

"Well said Jocko' A battern of twirps for this outlander And
here, since I'm taking pity on you, let me wrangle up a semblance
of decency for your head." The barman stuffed paper into a soiled
and oily prut and pulled it down over Gersen's brow, so that the
stuffed part wobbled first to one side, then the other "Not good,"
said the barman, "but better, especially since your business is with
Alois Bugardoig, who is a rare stickler for the niceties of life, in
fact, he's sworn never to harm another man on the Holy Day, can
you believe it2 Some declare he's only that much worse other days
Oh, worry, who is this3"

Into the tavern came a FO)O with a great barrel chest and a face
splayed and gnarled like a jungle fungus Gersen asked "Is that
Bugardoig3"

"Him2 Never That's Shirmis Poddle Shirmus, what's it to be3
The usual2"

"The usual, since there's naught better I wonder where is my
brat2 He should have been out back addling the deckers and not a
flap of his shirttail Well, no matter It's his bones I'll bruise and
not my own "

THE DEMON PRINCES

824

The barman slid across a jar of heavily spiced twirps. "Drink
in joy, Shirmis. Today so far has been quiet."

"Is that surly thing on his way? Or will I have a moment's
peace?"

"Only the High Eye sees so far. Hush! Do you hear him now?"

Shirmis again looked toward the door. "That's only thunder.
Still"—he raised his jar and drank—"you've roused my nerves. I'm
away for places more serene."

The barman watched him depart and gave a sad shake of the
head. "Fear is a strange sense and can't be explained. Ah then, is
that yet thunder, or is it Bugardoig shaking his leg?"

A Fojo entered the tavern, his shoulders tilling the doorway.
Twin buttresses of ropy muscle arched up to support his jaw, so
that the head seemed more narrow than the neck. His mouth was
a gash, his nose a jut of cartilage.

Gersen looked to the barman. "And there . . . ?"

"There you see Bugardoig, and today he has flame in his eye.
Someone has treated him poorly, and it may be hard for all of us.
Is your prut on straight?"

"I hope so. What does he drink?"

"The usual and several more like it."

"Serve up a double order." Gersen turned toward Bugardoig,
who stood looking among the patrons of the tavern with an air of
glowering purpose. Turning toward the bar he took notice of Ger-
sen, and gave an exaggerated jerk of displeasure. "And what is this
here, with hat askew and face like a gargoyle?"

"A friend in Pontefract asked me to seek you out. He suggested
that I put down my ship in your water meadow, as you are noto-
riously generous. Incidentally, I have ordered a double portion of
liquor on your behalf."

Bugardoig lifted one mug in his right hand, drained it; he took
the second mug in his left hand, poured it down his throat with
equal facility, and set the empty containers back on the counter.

"And so to business. Since I make no exceptions, pay me now
and at once a hundred SVU for landing fees, demurrage, and berth-
ing for the month."

"First, let us discuss a larger matter," said Gersen. "Have you
a few hours to spare at this moment?"

"On what kind of business?"

"Profitable business."

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS S25

"Explain yourself."

"Near Athmore Violet lives an important man whom we must
visit at once."

"Eh? Who is this? The crazy hermit on Voymont?"

"He is not altogether crazy," said Gersen. "In fact, he has rec-
ommended you as most qualified to take me to Voymont, since your
properties are nearby."

Bugardoig uttered a great boom of laughter. "Not so nearby
that I care to risk my life on V^oymont. So pay me my fee and go
to Voymont alone. If you approach Arthmore Violet, expect my
intense displeasure."

Gersen nodded slowly. "Well then, come along to my boat; I
carry no money on my person."

Bugardoig contorted his face into an astonished scowl. "Must
I plod the wet marsh because you have been fool enough to forget
your money?"

"Whatever you like," said Gersen. "Wait here. I will go for the
money and bring it to you."

"Ha!" roared Bugardoig. "I am not to be tricked so readily.
Come; if I must, I must. To your ship, and I will collect a surcharge
often SVU."

"Hold a moment!" bawled the barman. "I want a three-piece'
for the liquor!"

Gersen put a coin on the counter and signaled to Bugardoig.
"Let us hurry before the rain returns."

Bugardoig grumbled under his breath, then followed Gersen
from the tavern. They walked back along the lane under a plum-
colored sky, past the cottage where Lippold stood as before, past
the hut of the miner, who was nowhere to be seen, and out upon
Bugardoig's water meadow.

They approached the Flittefiving. Gersen said to Bugardoig:

"Wait here. I will jump aboard and fetch the money."

"Don't waste my time with foolishness!" said Bugardoig.
"Open up. You won't stray beyond the clutch of my fingernails until
I heft what is due me."

"The Fojos are a suspicious race," said Gersen. He climbed the
ladder and opened the port, with Bugardoig close at his heels. "This

1. A coin worth three-quarters of an SVU.

826 THE DEMON PRINCES

way," said Gersen. At the after bulkhead of the saloon he slid open
a door, gestured to Bugardoig. "Through here."

Bugardoig shoved impatiently past and into the cargo hold;

Gersen slid the door shut and engaged the clamps, even as Bugar-
doig realized his error and hurled himself against the door. Gersen
pressed his ear to the panel and heard strident voices. Grinning, he
went to the controls, took the boat into the air, and new away up
Meaughe Vale. Below, the river moved south like a sullen gray
snake through terraces splotched with various sorts of vegetation:

gray goiter bush, purple voitch, pale green wax plant, black smut-
trees. Minarets of pink and yellow land-coral thrust a hundred feet
into the air; poisonous orange smears delineated colonies of wan-
dering musk.

Ten miles slid behind. Gersen dropped the boat upon a
meadow of broad-leaved silver-grass. He alighted from the boat and
walked to the cargo hatch and slid it open, lowered the ladder. He
called, "Keak! Keak! Speak up!"

A surly voice replied: "W^hat do you want?"

"How much mess have you created?"

A short pause; then in airy tones, cracking up into falsetto: "I
personally? Nothing of consequence."

"Keak! Listen carefully—very carefully indeed! I am now about
to let the brats go free. All but you. We will look over the cargo
hatch. If conditions offend me, I will carry you two hundred miles
into the mountains. There you, and you alone, will scour that cargo
hatch until it glistens and smells sweet as the roses of Kew. Then
you will go your way and I will go mine."

Keak's voice came somewhat tremulously: "Conditions are tol-
erably good. 1 notice a bit of mess here and there—"

"You had better clean it now, while you still command help,
and while you are still close to home."

"We have no cleaning stuffs."

"There is water in the meadow. Use your shirts."

Keak uttered a furious spate of barking orders. The boys came
blinking and winking down the ladder. Then appeared a pair of
massive legs, next a great torso, and finally the head of Alois Bu-
gardoig. At the base of the ladder he halted to stare at Gersen, his
cheeks pulsing in and out, his mouth a giant scarlet polyp. Slowly
he hunched his shoulders and started for Gersen, who burnt a line

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 827

of crackling dazzle almost across Bugardoig's toes. "Don't provoke
me," said Gersen. "I'm in a hurry."

Bugardoig drew back a pace, his face flushed and dismal. Gersen
w^ved the gun toward Keak. "Faster! Remember how fast you ran
out from town?"

Half an hour later Gersen took the boat aloft, leaving a discon-
solate a^roup of shirtless boys staring up after him. As he watched
they turned and, tucking elbows against skinned white chests, loped
off down the valley.

Bugardoig now sat in the saloon, a cord limiting his scope of
action. Knots of muscle played up and down his cheeks; his eyes
showed as cracks of blue glitter. Bugardoig clearly was not one to
show a tolerant or even fatalistic face to adversity.

Gersen took the ship high under the first fleeting layers of
cloud. He turned to Bugardoig. "Are you acquainted with Dwyd-
dion?"

"The hermit? Certainly I know him. He lives over Voymont
from Athmore Violet. Have I not said he was crazy?"

"Crazy or not, we've got to get him away from Voymont or
he'll be killed."

"And this is important?"

"Quite important. So, where is Voymont from here?"

"Yonder. Across the Skak."

"And what are the landmarks?"

Bugardoig uttered a rasping groan. "All, the inconveniences I
owe this evil yetch and his gun . . . What if 1 am struck down by
lightning?"

"That then will be your fate."

Bugardoig heaved himself erect and looked out the ports. "Go
west and a slarsh-tit' north. Voymont is beyond those three sharp
peaks. Notice that black shadow? That's the Pritz, across from Voy-
mont, with Airy Gulch between. Notice the devil's-light! Ah,
there's weird tricks along the Pritz!"

Gersen took the FUttefiving high, across ascending ramparts of
dreary black rock, and over an awesome badlands of crag and cre-
vasse. To the west loomed the Pritz. Lightning flashes up and down
its face became ever more noticeable.

1, Sl.irsh^ Fojo renii tor a pre.idolesc-'em girl. Slarsb-dt is a vulgar colli.iqui,iliM]i for "tri-
fling .imounr," or "ro an .ilmusr negligible degree."

THE DEMON PRINCES

S28

A jumble of confused ridges passed below, which Bugardoig
named in a despondent voice: "The Shaggeth . . . Morney's Tooth,
and yonder, Athmore Violet. . . Hunckertown Trabble, with a bore
of palladium . . . Mount Lucasta; there's the head of Poorleg's River
. . . Now the Vovmont. .."

The Flitterwing cruised out over an enormous gulch, with a
silver trickle of water far below.

"Below is Airy Gulch," said Bugardoig.

The Flitterwmg hovered and settled slowly. From churning
clouds spasms of lightning clawed the Pritz. Gersen asked in a voice
unconsciously taut: "Where is Dwyddion?"

"Lower your vessel into Old Airy ... There, yonder, the ledge,
where only a madman would live."

Gersen slid the Flittering close to the Voymont, settled through
gusts of wind.

Bugardoig pointed a red-knuckled finger, "There, Dwyddion's
house. I now have done my undertaking; take me back to Pol-
doolie."

"We'll stop only long enough to make sure of Dwyddion."

"Bah," grumbled Bugardoig. "I am tempted to pound your
head with my fist, gun or no gun."

"Be patient," said Gersen. "We will not be long. In fact, the
faster the better."

The Flitterwing drifted close to the mountainside. Dwyddion's
house was a simple structure: a block of welded stone and glass,
perched precariously on a ledge. To the north the ledge had been
widened by an artful piling and wedging of large boulders, creating
first a viaduct a hundred feet long, then a small shallow landing
area: a place open and exposed to view. South of the house the
ledge became a path leading to a cramped level place in the angle
of a crevice. Here sat a small black flier, and beyond, half excavated
into the stone, a structure which Gersen assumed to be a workshop.
This area was concealed and unobtrusive. He lowered the FUtter-
iving to a landing behind Dwyddion's black flier.

Bugardoig made a sneering criticism of Gersen's choice of land-
ing place. "Are you yetch so foolish? Why do you not use the
convenient area? Is it too easy and obvious an operation?"

Gersen replied in a measured voice: "A criminal is coming to
kill Dwyddion. I don't want him to know that I'm here."

Bueardoier erave a rattling snort of derision.

THE BOOK OF ORE-IMS 829

Gersen opened the port and jumped to the ground. "I can't
leave you alone in front of those controls," he told Bugardoig.
"Something strange might happen. You'd better come along with
me."

Bugardoig folded his massive arms. "I stay here."

"Right now!" said Gersen. "There's no time to waste."

"For crazy yetch business any time is a waste," growled Bugar-
doig. "Get along with you."

"Then it's the cargo hatch for you."

"No."

Gersen held out his hands. "Watch me." He Jerked his right
bleep; into his hand as if by magic appeared a projac. "You know
what I can do with this." He Jerked his left bicep and displayed that
complicated weapon known as a dedactor. "Is this familiar to you?
No? It discharges three sorts of glass needles. The mildest causes
a maddening itch of three weeks' duration. I will use ten needles
on you unless you make a very quick move to the cargo hatch."

"At last you persuade me," said Bugardoig. He groaned,
belched, and with maddening deliberation lowered his bulk to the
ground. "I'll go with you and watch your tricks."

Gersen looked around the sky. "Let's make haste."

He set off along the ledge with Bugardoig ambling behind.

A door at the back of Dwyddion's house slid ajar; in the shadow
stood a tall thin man. He took a step forward and his features be-
came clear; a dome of a forehead with a high receding mat of dust-
colored hair, black eyes brooding in shadowed eye sockets, gaunt
cheeks, a delicate pointed chin: a face implying great intellectual
force and a cheerless disposition. He inspected his visitors without
amiability.

Gersen halted. "You are Dwyddion?"

"I am he." Dwyddion's voice was deep. "Do not the terms of
this place suggest my earnest desire for solitude?"

"Death is also solitary. You must listen carefully as we have
very little time. I am Kirth Gersen; this is Alois Bugardoig, a gen-
tleman of Poldoolie, who consented to guide me here."

"To what purpose?"

Gersen again searched the sky, and ag-ain saw only dark overcast
and low clouds whirling down the wind.

A gust howled across the mountainside, pelting their faces with
drops ot half-fro/'en rain. Dwyddion made an impatient sound,

THF DFMONPRINCFS

830

hunched his head between his shoulders, and retreated into his
house Gersen and Bugardoig followed, with the poorest possible
grace Dwyddion allowed them to pass

They had come directly into the main room of the house Ger-
sen received an impression of austere proportions, neutral colors,
humorless and marginally comfortable furnishings The message of
the room was ambiguous Here might be the expression of Dwyd-
dion's personality, his overview of existence, or he might simply
have subordinated the room to the view from its wide windows, the
vast gulch blowing with winds and mists, the Pntz, and the inces-
sant play of purple-white lightning

Dwyddion spoke coldly "Again may I inquire the reason for
your intrusion3"

"Certainly You were notified in regard to a recent conclave of
the Dexad at W^ild Isle3"

"Yes I chose not to attend In discussions I find myself consis-
tently a minority of one, and my presence seems unnecessary "

Gersen held out his photograph "You know all these men3"

"Of course."

"And this person here2"

"He is Silas Sparkhammer, a ninety-nine I consider him intel-
ligent, spontaneous, extremely inventive, and totally unsuitable for
the Dexad "

"I agree entirely," said Gersen "His name, incidentally, is
Howard Alan Treesong He poisoned the Triune and the entire
Dexad with charnay. There were two exceptions Benjamin Wroke,
whom he drowned, and you, who must now be considered the new
Triune Upon your death, Treesong becomes Triune, and he is now
on his way here to murder you "

Dwyddion stared, blinking from the photograph to Gersen
"All are dead?"

"All "

"Ha hum I find this simply incredible "

"No doubt It is shocking news But we have no time to waste
You must come with us—" Gersen gestured toward the door

Dwyddion drew back "I know nothing, I have no facts I cannot
act so abruptly    Who, then, are you3"

"I'll tell you everything as soon as we're away from here Come
now "

THE BOOK OF DREAVIS 831

Dwyddion gave his head a fretful shake "No, of course not
This is sheer hysteria I can't—"

Gersen gestured to Bugardoig. "Seize this fellow, carry him
out" With Dwyddion safe and out of the way on the FliTtei-wing,
an ambush of Howard Treesong would become feasible With luck,
the affair could be brought to its finish on this very day

Bugardoig blinked, then advanced upon Dwyddion, who cried
out in a choked voice of outrage "Stand back'" He flailed out with
his fists as Bugardoig stepped forward Bugardoig uttered a grunt
of annoyance for the foolish position in which he found himself
He seized Dwyddion, slung him aloft and over his shoulder Bu-
gardoig growled at Gersen: "And what now3 I am bored with this
nonsense "

Gersen opened the door. "Carry him to the ship, and quickly
It's a thankless task, agreed " Bugardoig stalked out upon the ledge
with Gersen close behind

Three men who had been advancing upon the house stopped
short The person on the left was sleek as a seal in a suit of black
velvet His face was round and white and distinguished by an ornate
artificial nose wrought from gold filigree. At the center stood How-
ard Alan Treesong, wearing green trousers, plum red coat, flapping
black cape, and black cheese-slice hat To the right a chisel-faced
man with a black skin and black beard stared at Bugardoig in won-
der

Treesong called out in a quick gay voice "Hola' What goes on
here3"

Gersen brought forth the projac He aimed at Treesong only
to find Bugardoig in front of him. Leaning aside, he pulled the
trigger, the bolt struck into Treesong's long taut thigh. Treesong
whirled to the ground in a flutter of his black cape. Gersen dropped
to his knee and fired again, but Treesong had slid over the edge of
the viaduct, and lay among the boulders, where he gave vent to a
set of peculiar many-voiced outcries

Gersen fired at the black-skinned man and killed him )ust as he
aimed his own weapon Gold-nose, dropping to the ground, fired
a bolt which tore open Bugardoig's great corded neck Bugardoig
toppled like a tree and fell upon Dwyddion, who fretfully pulled
himself free and crawled away, while Bugardoig lay pumping \ivid
red blood across the stones

Gersen fired again Gold-nose ]erked, cursed, rolled over the

832 THE DEMON PRINCES

edge of the viaduct. Gersen rose to stand in a wary crouch, watching
for motion. Treesong had halted his remarkable multivocal yam-
mer; Gersen ran a few steps forward and searched over the declivity,
hoping to surprise Treesong. He saw nothing. Treesong had evi-
dently taken shelter behind a squat boulder of gneiss.

Gersen ran crouching across the viaduct. He saw motion and
dropped flat. A bolt sizzled through the air a foot above his head.
Gersen fired his projac; rock splinters sprayed the head and neck
of Gold-nose, who screamed in pain. He lost his footing and slipped
down the slope. Gersen watched in fascination as Gold-nose rolled,
slid, and tumbled, slowly gathering momentum to become a top-
pling limp object, bounding, rolling, falling free to strike the rock
walls, glance away, and disappear into the murk.

Gersen clambered back upon the viaduct, in time to see a smalt
airboat raise from the landing-plat and slant into the sky. Howard
Alan Treesong had not taken shelter behind the boulder; he had
crawled back through the rocks and so had made his escape.

For ten seconds Gersen stared after the airboat. So near, and
now so far. His intrigues and strategems gone for naught, and poor
Bugardoig a corpse, now drained of blood. He turned to Dwyddion,
who stood to the side, watching Gersen with an unreadable ex-
pression.

"Get into the ship," said Gersen gruffly. "We've got to leave
here in a hurry."

"I see no reason—"

Gersen put his anger and frustration under icy control. "That
was Howard Alan Treesong. He came to kill you. He used a ship's
boat. Somewhere not too high hangs his ship; in fact it's already
dropping to pick him up. As soon as he's aboard, the ship will
destroy your house and us as well, if we are fools enough to wait."

Dwyddion gave a fatalistic shrug, but made no further protest.
The Flittef-wmg rose into the sky and flew off to the west. Down
from the clouds eased a dark hull, toward Voymont. "There's his
ship. We're not away too soon."

"I understand none of this," gloomed Dywddion. "It is an out-
rage that I, who seek only seclusion, should be harassed, coerced,
and inconvenienced.

"Sad," said Gersen. "Still, if it's any satisfaction to you—and
to Bugardoig—we have blown Treesong's master plan sky-high,
and we have also shot him in the leg."

THE BOOK OF HRK4MS

833

"What plan is this?"

"With you dead, he would have become Triune. He's already
tried for the IPCC and failed—although the way is still open to
him. He rules the criminals of all the major worlds. There is his
power base. In ten years he would be emperor of the Oikumene."

"Humm ... At Pontefract, before the day is out, I'll appoint a
new Dexad. The man is a megalomaniac'"

"He is all of that." Gersen reflected upon Howard Treesong's
outcries in what seemed a multitude of voices. "He is something
very strange indeed."

Three recollections, vivid beyond all others, in connection with
Dwyddion's house on the Voymont persisted with Gersen to haunt
him all the days of his life.

First, the Pntz itself, hunched to the attack of a thousand fu-
rious lightning bolts, and Airy Gulch, reverberating to wind and

thunder.

Second, the corpse of Bugardoig, face astounded by the un-
thinkable tragedy which had overtaken him, his topknot daubed red

with his own blood.

The third recollection, strange and marvelous, would be the
many-voiced babble of lamentations and threats produced by How-
ard Treesong as he lay among the rocks. "—by the sibyls of Hades,
such pain'" "—no matter, no matter—" "—that mad dog; who
knows him=" "Not 1 " "Nor I." "Enough' Elhur padache^ "Staunch

Green'"

The Flittefwing once again swung high around Vega. Dwyddion
sat stiff and resentful, mouth drooping, face glum. Presently he
began to turn sidelong glances toward Gersen. But Gersen sat in
silence, occupied with his own problems.

At last Dwyddion broke the silence. In a dignified voice he said-
"I would be interested in learning the reason for your involvement
in this business."

"There's no great mystery," said Gersen. "I hold something of
a grudge against Treesong. It's as simple as that."

Dwyddion managed a sour chuckle. "Something of a grudge,
eh^ What occurs when you're seriously offended? . . Well, no mat-
ter, I suppose I should feel grateful to you."

"Probably so."

I HE BOOK OF DREAVIS

"Ah, you concur^ Then allow me formally to tender my grat-
itude. ... I may have been solitary tor too long a time. For a fact,
with the Dexad destroyed, I have no further cause for isolation
The secret now is known only to me."

Dwyddion sat musing and twitching his long white fingers.
Now that he had started talking he found it hard to contain his
loquacity. "You probably wonder why I chose isolation From bit-
terness and disillusionment—there is the answer. Or, if you prefer,
I learned 'the Secret.' Perhaps I was callow, perhaps naive—but no
one had ever faulted my zeal. There was never such a swotsman.'
I was very early selected as an 'Exemplar' and cited for my 'nobility
and ease'; I spent all my time at monstrances and on walking tours.
I've trudged a thousand landscapes, I've exhorted countless granges.
The places T've seen' Berenskaya, Kotop, the Long Hills, Old
Home and Prairie Lands, the Green Star Swantees, the Polders of
Pedder-Dulah: I've walked them all' I was |ailed at Chlodie on Mar-
skens; the Factors of Pollardich on Copus shaved my head, I be-
came resident Thwarterman at Vasconcelles. Perhaps you recall the
crusade against electric sports m Mvra, on the south continent ot
Alphanor5 What is its name^"

"Trans-Iskana."

"Do you remember the crusade^"

"No."

"I led the march and we did great things, but not without suf-
fering. Oh' when I recall the toil, the heat, the derision and abuse,
not to mention insects, crawlers, and bane-bugs' But we thrust on
through to Cattlesbury and won the day. . . . How long ago it
seems' And suddenly I was rank fifty, and sixty' I directed the cam-
paign against pesticides on Wirfil; I worked as liaison officer with
the Peas and Beaners at New Gorcherum, I served with the Natural
Jungle League ofArmongol. All considered me the definition of an
Institute activist; I was compelling, trenchant, sublimely assured
that my ideals were the best of all possible ideals. My rank soared
aloft- through the eighties and nineties and now no more cam-
paigns, no more programs—now I was concerned with policy. I had
time to rest, to think. I went before the Dexad, I watched their
deliberations and I )omed their banquets, and at last I was appointed
ninety-nine. Suddenly I was in line for the Dexad I met the other

1 Institute argut <i person who energeucaily strnes [Q climb the ranks r,ipidl\

836 THE DEMON PRINCES

ninety-nines, my rivals and my peers One was Benjamin Wroke, a
person not unlike myself", who had arrived at his status much as I
had We had much in common, yet we never achieved full amica-
bilitv which, after all, could not be expected when three men vie
for the Dexad The other ninety-nine called himself Sparkhammer.
He was a man I could not fathom, he was impenetrable to the usual
processes of analysis I found him by turns charming, repellent,
soothing, infuriating He demonstrated both competence and con-
fidence, his decisions were effortless He might have been consid-
ered a certainty for the Dexad, except for a certain flamboyance
which hurt his chances Both Benjamin Wroke and Silas Sparkham-
mer yearned for the Dexad—Sparkhammer almost shamefully so
Cloyd Free, rank one hundred four, died in the Kankashee |ungles
The Dexad voted in Benjamin Wroke and brought Sabor Vidol up
to ninety-nine Sparkhammer could barely conceal his fury Only
two weeks later, Hassamide was murdered by a Thracian footpad.
I was elevated into the Dexad and lan Bilfred was raised to ninety-
nine Sparkhammer congratulated me with grace and composure;

in truth, he was far too anxious and everyone knew it. As for me,
the Dexad meant nothing I perceived suddenly—in the space of
ten seconds—that this supreme achievement—I refer to member-
ship in the Dexad—was factitious. I had overshot my goals. I saw
my old self as a child playing games It was a point of view, so I
now suspected, in which the Dexad quite concurred I had invested
thirty-two years of toil and sacrifice in a cause which the leadership
regarded at best with indulgent approval. Mind you, these were the
best intellects of the Oikumene, they were neither corrupt nor dis-
honest' I gradually understood that in the processes of maturity and
wide purview, they discerned that the strength and virtue of the
Institute lay not in its goals, nor in the hopeful achievement of these
goals, but in its operative function as a system into which persons
like myself could spend their energies, and in so doing leaven an
otherwise ponderous society "

Dwyddion paused and stared off along an avenue of memories,
his mouth trembling in a bitter smile Gersen asked "You changed,
so you say, in a space often seconds Was that not abrupt7"

"Yes .  Well, why should you not know5 I was approached by
Rob Martiletto, the one hundred eight He said 'Dwyddion, you
are now Dexad Needless to say you have earned the rank May I

THE BOOK OF DREA MS 837

ask if, in your appraisal of the Dexad, you have noticed what I shall
call a transcendental serenity7'

" 'Yes, I have noticed something of the sort I ascribed it to age
and a waning of energy '

" 'That is not altogether the explanation The jump from
ninety-nine to one hundred one is farther than from, say, seventy
to ninety-nine This is because the Dexad shares a secret, which
now I will impart to you In the Dexad you advance a long step
past the rationale which brought you up to ninety-nine The new
ideology is contained in the Secret' He then told me the Secret.
The ten seconds to which I referred passed by I said, 'Sir, not only
can I not endorse your views, I will not seaf myself with the Dexad.
In short, I now and forever resign from the Institute '

" 'Not possible' You have sworn to serve for the duration of
your days, and so you must'

'* 'Good-bye,' I said 'You will see me never again '

" 'W^here are you going7'

" 'Where no one will ever come to seek me out *

"Martiletto showed neither surprise nor resentment, in fact he
seemed amused 'Well then, do as you must Solitude may bring
you a new perspective '

"I went away I sought and found solitude, and I must say it
has been until today the most peaceful time of my life "

"And the Secret7"

"It is implicit in what I have said The Dexad perceived society
as separated into three elements In order of consequence, they
were humanity at large, the Institute, and the Dexad Humanity
and the Institute were seen as opposing forces in a state of dynamic
equilibrium I he Dexad functioned to maintain the tension, and to
prevent either side from overwhelming the other The Dexad
therefore has often acted in opposition to the Institute, creating
situations constantly to outrage and stimulate the membership.
That is the Secret "

"Now you are Triune, and you will appoint a new Dexad. How
do you regard this point of view7"

Dwyddion uttered a short bleak laugh "I have discovered
something about myself The Secret embarrassed me. I saw myself
across thirty two \ears the earnest swotsman, the sweating dupe
controlled by Institute cant, reverent toward Triune and Dexad,
contemptuous of the general population Then I learned the Secret,

THE DEMON PRINCES

838

to my distress. Now that I am Triune, 1 must either impart the
Secret to the next Dexad or suppress it."

Gersen said, "You are not yet free of Treesong. Today he was
thwarted and hurt. He will be crazy for revenge."

"Revenge?" cried Dwyddion, with as much ordinary human
emotion as Gersen had yet seen him display. "When he came to
kill me? Absurd. It is I who demand revenge, for the murder of my
fellows, for the great indecency perpetrated upon the Institute."

"Let me offer advice," said Gersen. "At Pontefract you must
make a public disclosure of events. The role of Silas Sparkhammer,
ninety-ninth of the Institute, will no longer be possible for Tree-
song."

"I intended to make a statement."

"The sooner the better. In fact, when we reach the Pontefract
spaceport, we can call into Cosmopolis."

10

Feature article in Pontefract Clarion:

INSTITUTE TRIUNE DESCRIBES
FANTASTIC MURDER BANQUET

Accused: Howard Alan Treesong

Entire Leadership Poisoned; Plot to Control Institute
Ascribed to Notorious "King of Criminals," "Demon
Prince" Howard Alan Treesong.

"I personally escaped death by a combination of luck, quick
thinking, and the assistance of my aide," declared Dwyd-
dion, formerly of Institutional rank 101 and now Triune, a
title indicating rank 111. "I did not attend the banquet,"
said Dwyddion. "I learned of the event through Institute
intelligence. I was informed that the notorious criminal
Treesong, by some means, had preempted to himself rank
99, naturally not in his own identity. He called himself
Sparkhammer, and in due course I will discover the decep-
tion by which he gained rank 99.

"Needless to say, his spurious ranking is canceled.

"I have appointed a new Dexad from a roster of authentic
rankings. The work of the Institute proceeds.

"I did not attend the murder banquet, for a number of
reasons. The Dexad and the Triune met at Wild Isle, on
the planet Cytherea Tempestre, to elevate one of three 99s
to the Dexad; and to enjoy a banquet including charnay,

THE DEMON PRINCES

which is a delicacy known only on Cytherea. I have tasted
eharnay and find it delectable, but if not prepared properly
it is a deadly poison.

"Howard Alan Treesong obtained eharnay, extracted the
poison, injected it into the already prepared, certified
wholesome fruit, which was then served to Triune, Dexad,
and the candidate 99s. Treesong himself abstained from
eating, or perhaps ate wholesome fruit. Benjamin Wroke,
rank 102, who like myself chose not to attend the banquet,
was subsequently drowned by Treesong.

"Why did he perform such an atrocious act, when he still
might have been elevated into the Dexad? Because twice
already he had been passed over, and probably had received
information that he was to be rejected again, in favor of
either Vidol or Bilfred. When a 99 is gainsaid for the third
time he must face the bitter fact that he will never attain
the Dexad, and so might as well retire from candidacy.

"Treesong chose, rather, to murder all ranks above him,
whence, by Institute law, he ascended to the highest rank
left open: in this case only 109, until I could be disposed
of. I, naturally, being of higher rank, would precede him to
Triune."

Gersen rubbed his face with sallow skin tone, arranged a hairpiece
of effusive black curls over his own short black pelt, and donned
his exquisite garments, to achieve once more the semblance of an
indolent wastrel.

He set off across Tara Square. The day was gray, and a gray
mist hung on the air. The folk of Pontefract marched stolidly past.
Their black and brown costumes made a muted richness against the
wet stone and old black iron.

Gersen turned into Corrib Place, halted to inspect the Extant
offices. Nothing seemed amiss. The aged structure, black with
grime, seemed as placid as ever. The duration of his absence could
be measured in hours; the psychological time seemed far longer.
... He crossed the street, entered the building, and went directly
to the contest workroom. Today, so he recalled, saw the end of the

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

841

contest; the workload had decreased significantly and only a half
dozen sacks of mail lay in the bin.

Mrs. Ench bustled forward to greet him. "Good morning, Mr.
Lucas!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Ench. Any startling developments?"

"Not yet, Mr. Lucas. The Cytherea entry is still the closest.
But have you seen the newspapers this morning? It's absolutely
remarkable!"

"Yes, most amazing."

"How will it affect our contest?"

"In no way whatever, or so I hope. We are lucky that our dead-
line is today. Otherwise we might have multitudes of opportunistic
winners."

"We still might have some."

"We'll simply have to judge each entry on its own merits."

"Quite right, Mr. Lucas."

Gersen turned away but Mrs. Ench called him hack. "Oh, Mr.
Lucas, one interesting letter—at least I consider it interesting. I set
it aside for you, since it concerns our number six." She handed
Gersen an envelope.

"Thank you, Mrs. Ench." Gersen read the letter. "Interesting!"
He read the letter a second time. "I suppose it has no particular
bearing on our contest, as the newspapers have established Spark-
hammer's true identity."

"My feeling exactly. Our contest seems remarkably timely. Is
it all a coincidence?"

Gersen laughed politely. "In case anyone asks, we are all dumb-
founded by the new developments."

"No one has asked, but many may be wondering."

"That's as may be. The publicity can't do Extant any harm."

Gersen went on into the front office. Alice sat quietly at her
desk. She wore a simple black shirt and jacket, upon which the tips
of her orange hair rested and then curved upward. At the sight of
Gersen she made an abrupt motion toward the newspaper on her
desk, then restrained herself.

"Good morning, Mr. Lucas."

"Good morning, Alice. You've seen the news, evidently."

Alice feigned no misunderstanding. "Yes." She looked down at
the journal. "It is—interesting."

"No more than that?"

THE DEMON PRINCES

842

Alice only gave a noncommittal shrug.

Gersen said, "Treesong is a terrible man. He is one of the
'Demon Princes/ "

"I have heard the name, certainly," said Alice stiffly.

Gersen said, "There's mention of a 'Benjamin Wroke' who
drowned in the Shanaro Sea. I hope that he is no connection of

yours."

Alice looked up with somber eyes, then turned away. "Yes. He
is a close connection."

"That's a great pity. You have my sincere sympathy."

Alice made no reply. Gersen went to his desk. He sat down and
studied Alice's profile. "I still wish very much to meet Howard Alan
Treesong."

Alice's chin rose an eighth inch. She spoke a bitter monosyl-
lable. "Why?"

"He is now more than ever a superb subject for an interview."

Alice lowered her chin to its original position. "Do you think
it wise to publicize the exploits of such a man?"

"Certainly. Sooner or later he will come to a bad end. How do
such men function? What are their motivations? How does he re-
gard himself?"

"He would never allow you to write undignified things about

him."

"He could write the copy himself, for all I care. What with the
contest and the murders, we'd sell a hundred million copies."

Alice abruptly rose to her feet. "I don't feel well. If there's
nothing for me to do, I think I'll rest for an hour or two."

"Just as you like," said Gersen. He rose politely to his feet. "I
hope you're better soon."

"Thank you." With a final swift glance toward Gersen, skep-
tical and dubious, Alice left the office.

Gersen sat back. He brought out the letter tendered him by
Mrs. Ench and read it for the third time.

Director of Extant Contest:

Please consider this letter as my entry in your contest.
I can definitely identify one person in the photograph.
This entitles me to one-tenth of a share in the contest

prize, which I claim.

That person marked "Number 6" was born at Home

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

843

Farm, near Gladbetook, in the Land of Maunish. He was
named by his mother Howard Alan, after the television wiz-
ard H. A. Topfinn and Arblezanger, in remembrance other
grandfather. With his patronymic he was and is Howard
Alan Arblezanger I lardoah and so do I identify him. He has
not been a close son, and indeed left us some years ago. I
have heard that he is successful and doing well and I hope
to see him shortly at the school reunion to which he has
been invited.

In any case, I render this identification and I will expect
my share of the contest money at once.
I am Adrian Hardoah,

at Home Farm

Gladbetook, Land of Maunish

Moudervelt

Van Kaathe's Star

Gersen reflected a moment, then called Information Service.
Moudervelt he found to be the only populated planet of Van Kaa-
the's Star. It was a world somewhat larger than Earth, with a single
continent sprawling two-thirds of the way around the equator. The
world was old and its soil was mellow. The mountain ranges of its
youth had eroded low, leaving wide prairies and meandering rivers.
Moudervelt had first been settled by a variety of small groups: re-
ligious sects, clans, sporting associations, philosophical societies,
and the like. They had quickly exterminated the race of semi-
intelligent beings in residence, parceled out tracts of land, estab-
lished frontiers for their 1,562 realms, and for century after century
occupied themselves with their own affairs. The Land of Maunish
occupied a section of the Goshen Prairie, in the eastern midlands
of the great continent. The capital, Cloutie, maintained a popula-
tion of three thousand. Eighty miles north in F'luter Township on
the banks of the W^iggal River was Gladbetook, with a population
of three thousand. Maunish had been settled by the Partitioners of
the Pure Truth; the Teachings discouraged space travel, and the
nearest spaceport lay three hundred miles south, at Theobald Sta-
tion, in the Land of Leiander.

Gersen turned away from the communicator. Howard Tree-
song had been born a country boy, in one of the most placid back-
waters of the human universe. Gersen decided, upon reflection, that

844

THE. DEMON PRINCES

the fact had no general significance. There were many country boys
who never became criminals.. . . He turned back to the commu-
nicator and made connection with room 442 at St. Diarmid's Inn.
Alice would be arriving at her own room just about now.

His timing was exact. He heard the door open and Alice's steps
as she crossed the room. For a few moments she moved here and
there, rather listlessly, then came to rest.

She sat five minutes arranging her thoughts. Then he heard her
speaking, in a voice resolute and steady. "Alice Wroke here."

A minute passed. Then Howard Treesong's voice replied, in
tones strident and harsh: "Yes, Alice, I hear you. What have you
accomplished?"

"As much as possible."

"I am satisfied only with achievement."

"Where is my father? According to the newspapers he is dead."

"Do not presume to question me. Make your report."

"1 can report only what you already know. Mr. Lucas told me
again that he is anxious to interview you."

The voice became even more harsh. "He knows you are in

contact with me?"

"Certainly not. He is as callous as you are. He wants to publish
your biography, or your autobiography, so that he can sell a hun-
dred million copies of his journal."

"And he considers me an altruist?"

"I doubt that, but then I am only reporting his remarks. Do as

you see fit."

"Just so."

Alice hesitated, then asked, "The contest is over. I have kept
to the terms of my bargain. Is my father truly dead?"

Treesong's voice, changing once more, became flat yet throaty,
acrid yet thick. "You now know my name."

"Yes."

"And you know who I am."

"I have heard of you."

"Perhaps you divined my great scheme."

"You planned to be Triune of the Institute."

The stridency returned to Treesong's voice. "That plan has
hatefully and viciously been thwarted. Benjamin Wroke—who was
he? WTiat did he matter? Naturally he is dead, and why did I trouble
myself? The plan is broken, by the journalists and their contest!"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

845

"So he has gone?"

"Who? Wroke? How could you think otherwise?"

"You assured me otherwise."

A rasping laugh. "People believe whatever they want to be-
lieve."

"I am now done with you."

"Go your way. You are destructively beautiful; you have
brought dissent among the colors of my soul. Red lusts; Blue feels
a melancholy longing, while Green would cause you pain. But noth-
ing will be done; I have taken injury and I suffer. There is no time;

also you have soiled yourself; you bedded with the journalist.
Granted, at my behest, but you should have pleaded and made out-
cry."

"I showed poor judgment," said Alice tartly.

When Treesong responded his voice was stern and sullen. "I
am about to depart. Vega has not been kind; nor was it ever. I am
wounded and sore, but in due course I will set things straight—and
then! My pain will be remedied a thousand times over."

"WTiat happened to you?" Alice spoke with ingenuous interest.

"We met ambush. A demon in the shape of a man sprang out
ofDwyddion's house and fired his projac into my leg."

"I should think you'd be expecting such things."

Treesong seemed not to hear the remark. Another brief silence,
then a new voice, clever and electric: "The Extant contest ends
tomorrow?"

"No. Today."

"And there is yet no winner?"

"That's correct."

"Then these are your instructions: Do not call me again."

"I am free of you! Save your instructions!"

Treesong ignored the interruption. "Continue as before." But
the conversation had ended.

At noon Vega burnt away the overcast, leaving the sky suffused with
bright milky haze. Alice returned to the office looking pale and
drawn.

"You're feeling better, I hope?" asked Gersen.
"Yes, thank you." She went to her desk and seated herself. She
had changed into a gray-green frock with a prim white collar which
her orange curls barely brushed: the colors of some exotic desert

THE DEMON PRINCES

846

flower, thought Gersen. She became aware of his attention and gave
him a quick glance. "Is there anything I should do?"

"Not really. The contest is essentially over. There have been
interesting developments, don't you think?"

"Definitely so."

"Still, it's not much better than a standoff. Treesong failed to
take over the Institute. On the other hand, he's still alive and his
career goes on. Your father is dead, which is your private tragedy.
If you had known that Sparkhammer was Howard Alan Treesong,
you could never have hoped otherwise."

Alice turned in her chair to stare at Gersen. "How did you
know that Benjamin Wroke was my father?"

"It's on your application," said Gersen. He smiled a rather lame
smile. "Also, not to put too fine a point on it, I tapped into your
conversations with Treesong."

Alice sat like a statue. "Then you knew—"

"From the moment you walked into the office. Even before. I
knew when I saw you across the street."

Alice flushed suddenly pink. "And you must have known . .."

"So I did."

"But still..."

"What would you think of me if I had taken advantage of you?"

Alice showed a strained, meaningless smile. "What difference
does it make what I think?"

"I don't want your self-esteem to be damaged—especially for
the wrong reasons."

"This is an idiotic conversation," said Alice. She rose to her
feet. "And it is idiotic for me to stay here any longer."

"Where are you going?"

"Away. Am I not discharged?"

"Of course not! I admire your courage! WTien I look across the
room, I like to see you sitting there. Furthermore—"

The desk communicator chimed. Gersen touched a button; a
voice spoke: "Howard Alan Treesong calling Henry Lucas."

"Henry Lucas here. Do you have a face?"

"I do indeed." Upon the screen appeared an image: a face with
a high square forehead, clear hazel eyes, a fine straight nose. long
chin, w^de easy mouth, an expression of prideml verve and vivacity.
Gersen pulled the black curls of his hairpiece forward and down
across his white cheeks, half closed his eyes and dropped his jaw,

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

in order to project an impression of aristocratic languor. Alice
watched in sardonic amusement as Gersen transmitted the image
to Howard Treesong.

The two men studied each other. Treesong spoke in a rich
flowing voice. "Mr. Lucas, I have been following your contest with
interest, since, as you know, I am included in the photograph."

"So I understand. Naturally it augments popular interest in the
event."

Treesong said airily: "I am not sure whether or not you intend
to flatter me."

"For the purposes of this occasion I am a journalist, which is
to say, an automaton, without personal feelings."

"If so, then you are unusual. But no matter. Since you make
no specific bans or debarments, I wish to submit my personal so-
lution to your contest. Be kind enough to note my identifications,
or better, ask your remarkably beautiful secretary to do so."

Gersen said thoughtfully, "I doubt if this could be considered
regular procedure. All our other entries have- arrived in written
form."

"You make no stipulation to this effect, so why should not a
verbal identification be valid? I can use the prize money as well as
the next person."

"Quite so. Our award ceremony takes place shortly. If you were
adjudged the winner, could you be on hand to accept the prize?"

"A bit awkward, I'm afraid. Unless the occasion were celebrated
in the far Beyond."

"That might be troublesome, from our point of view."

"Then you must send the money to an address which I will
supply. Now for the identifications."

"Quite so, quite so ... Alice, take notes."

"I wi\\ identify as you have numbers. One is Sharrod Yest. Two
is that acidulous harridan Dianthe de Trembuscule. Three, the cor-
pulent Beatrice Utz. Four is the once-voluble lan Bilfred, whose
agile tongue, alas, is now forever stilled. Five is the overeager Sabor
Vidol. Six is that person known on this occasion as Sparkhammer,
but more generally known as Howard Alan Treesong. Seven is John
Gray. Eight is that otiose lummox the Triune, Gadouth. Nine is
Gieselman; ten, Martiletto. I hope that I am the first correctly to
identify these folk."

"I'm afraid not. As soon as Dwyddion's revelations were made

848

THE DKMON PRINCES

public, dozens of opportunists swarmed into our office with correct

identifications."

"Pah! Greed is rampant everywhere! Another score to be set-
tled with Dwyddion!"

"Something may still be salvaged. I want to publish your bi-
ography, at terms to be arranged. You are a unique individual and
your memoirs should interest our readers."

"It is something to think about. I have often felt the need to
express my views. The public regards me as a criminal- By ordinary
definition, 1 am a very paragon of the trade; I recognize no peer.
By the very nature of my accomplishments, I have created a new
category by which I and I alone may be judged. I will not now

enlarge upon the idea."

"In any case, public interest will not be diminished."

"I must consider the matter carefully. I don't like to station
myself in a designated place at a specific time. If you w^ll reflect
upon the conditions of my existence, you will perceive that the need
for vigilance is one of its very few disadvantages."

"Yes, so it would seem."

"Certain folk do not yield gracefully to my instructions; they
thereby incur penalties. This is sheer simple fact. I am meticulous
in regard to rewards and penalties, I assure you. I usually take the
rewards and others must make do with the penalties, but no matter.
Is not the cosmos a more vital and adventurous place for my pres-
ence? Of course! I am indispensable."

"All this will fascinate my readers. I hope you agree to the

interview."

"We shall see. At the moment I am pressed for time. I have a
rendezvous to keep upon a distant planet and 1 must make my ar-
rangements. That is all for now."

The screen went dim. Gersen leaned back in his chair. "Tree-
song seems to have an elastic disposition."

"He changes from minute to minute," said Alice. "He terrifies
me. Still, I hope to see him at least once again."

Gersen was intrigued by her lackluster voice. "Why so?"

"I'll try to kill him."

Gersen stretched his arms into the air. The narrow-shouldered
coat constricted him. He pulled it off and threw it aside. Then he
took off his hairpiece and threw it after the coat. .Alice watched him
sidelong, but made no comment.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

849

"He is cautious," said Gersen. "I was lucky to get a single shot
at him out on the Voymont."

In a soft wondering voice Alice asked, "Who are you?"

"In Pontefract I'm known as Henry Lucas, a writer for Cos-
mopolis. Sometimes I use a different name and do different things."

"Why?"

Gersen rose, sauntered across the room to her desk. He reached
under her arms, pulled her up so that her face was close. He kissed
her forehead, her nose, her mouth, to which she remained passive.

He eased the pressure of his arms. "If Treesong calls to ask
about me, you can't tell him if you don't know."

"I will tell him nothing in any case. He has no more power
over me."

Gersen kissed her again, to which she yielded but again made
no response. She drew back. "Then you want me to remain here?"

"Very much so."

She turned and drew away from him. "I have nothing better to
do."

"Then you'll be here when I get back?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going out to a strange old world, to take part in a social
occasion."

"Where Howard Treesong is going?"

"Yes. I'll tell you all about it when I return."

Alice asked wistfully, "When will that be?"

"I don't know." Gersen kissed her again, and now she re-
sponded, and for a moment relaxed against him. Gersen kissed the
top other head. "Good-bye."

11

Life^ Introduction to Volume II,
by Baron Bodissey Unspiek:

As we traverse the river of human time in our wonder
boats, we notice recurring patterns in the now of peoples
and civilizations.. . . The disparate races coalesce only
when territory is limited, cramped, and crowded, with corn-
pressive social pressures. Strong, exact governments are
typical of these circumstances; they are both necessary and
welcome. Conversely, when land is vast and easily available,
as in the broaching of a new continent or a new world,
nothing can keep different sorts of people in close contact.
They migrate to new places and particularize, whereupon
languages mutate, costumes and conventions elaborate, aes-
thetic symbols take on fresh meanings. Now the public
mood turns inward; government imposed from another
place cannot be tolerated. The processes, as the race wan-
ders from its native star, are of infinite richness and a source
of endless fascination.. . .

Mouderuek: Then and NOTV, from Studies in Comparative
Anthropology, by Russell Cooke;

Had the astute Baron chosen to adorn his famous In-
troduction to Volume II with examples, he might well have
selected the remote world Moudervelt, orbiting Van Kaa-
the's Star, as a felicitous paradigm for the illumination of
his general principle.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS 851

Moudervelt is a world benign and fertile, with an ex-
pansive land area. The flora is generally compatible with
Earth stock; the fauna offers no menace except for a few
predatory sea creatures.

Moudervelt is an old world. The ancient mountain
ranges are now forested hills; rolling plains extend horizon
to horizon, under blue skies and flotillas of tall white cu-
mulus. Great slow rivers wander the prairies, where the soil
is deep and the climate fair. Except for rivers, the land lacks
natural boundaries, but boundaries and borders aplenty *
have been created, to delineate 1,562 separate dominions,
each jealous of its identity, each cherishing its own roteh
and rites, each celebrating its distinctive cuisine and scorn-
ing all others as filth and scum, each considering itself the
single home of civilization among 1,562 barbaric, incom-
prehensible, and unpleasant neighbors.

Moudervelt knows no true cities. Most of the lands
maintain a spaceport. Commerce is carried on the rivers,
which are all interconnected by canals. Only a few land
routes connect the states.

Moudervelt is by no means isolated from the universe.
It exports a considerable quantity of special foodstuffs for
the use of former inhabitants,1 and imports technical goods,
special tools, a few books and periodicals: in total bulk, no
great amount. Moudervelt by and large is self-sufficient.

From Popular Handbook to the Planets, 330th edition,
1525: Moudervelt, Van Kaathe's Star;

(After the usual exposition of physical data and an his-
torical summary, the text devotes a paragraph or two to
each of the 1,562 dominions.)

Maunish, at the center of Goshen Prairie, occupies an
area of about 40,000 square miles and supports a population
of about a million, descended from a mission of the Pure
Truth Partition. The area is bounded bv the Dalglish River
on the south and east, by the Land of Puck to the west,

1. Ships trading in offworld fuods roam even where .leniss the settled worlds- Old Earth
supplies perhaps a third of all such comestibles. The wines of Earth are especially prized.

852

THE DEMON PRINCES

Amable and the River Bohuloe on the north, the lands of
Ganaster and Erquhar to the east. The principal town is

Cloutie.

Notice to Offworld Arrivals: There are no spaceports
within the confines of Maunish. Indeed, space vessels, air-
craft, hoppers, or sky-riders flying at an elevation over
forty-nine feet are prohibited. Entry must be made by
surface transportation at an authorized checkpoint. Border
controls are strict, as are import regulations. Bring in no
weapons, intoxicants, erotic materials, medicines, except
those personally required. Border searches are thorough;

penalties are severe.

Gersen lowered the Flittefwing down upon Theobald Station.
Farmlands punctuated by white houses spread away from the town
in all directions. The Dalglish River crawled in great loops across
the landscape, finally to swerve to the north and disappear.

The spaceport projected no detectable beacon or signal. Gersen
isolated it from adjacent fields only by virtue of three spacecraft
already on hand; a pair of small cargo carriers and a bedraggled old

Sissle Wandcf-way.

Gersen landed the Flittefwing, made his usual arrangements,
and jumped to the ground. He found himself at the center of a
sunny open field sodded with blue-green turf. Cool country air blew
in his face; there was no sound except for a slight hiss from the
Flitterwings recharging respirators. A hundred yards across the
field, shaded under a pair of sprawling trees, he saw a small shed,
upon which rested a sign:

Central Space Terminal
Theobald Station, Land of Leiander
All Incoming Traffic Report Here

Inside the shed Gersen discovered a small fat man dozing at a
table, the remains of his lunch spread before him. He wore what
once had been a smart uniform of black, tan, and red twill; but for
breeches and boots he had substituted a white knee-length skirt and

sandals.

Gersen rapped on the table; the official woke abruptly. Almost

before opening his eyes he groped for his cap and pulled it over his

THE BOOK OF DKE.4MS 853

balding pate. He looked Gersen over with a bland expression.
"Sir?"

"I am an item of 'Incoming Traffic.' The sign directed me
here."

"Yes. Yes indeed. Well, there are a few formalities incident to
entry. . .." He secured a form, put questions to Gersen, noted the
responses.

He completed the form and filed it in a box. "That is all, sir,
except for the landing fee."

Gersen said, "First, a bit of information. I am actually en route
to Maunish; are there any hindrances to travel?"

"None whatever. The borders are open."

"I can rent a vehicle?"

"Certainly. I will rent you my own car, and my son will drive
you."

Gersen's ears were attuned to almost imperceptible hints and
implications. He looked sharply at the official. "At what rent?"

"Oh—nothing unreasonable. Ten SVU per diem."

"No extra charges or supplements?"

"None. Do you take me for a scarper?"

"He will drive me to Cloutie and elsewhere in Maunish at my
convenience?"

The official showed an expression of indignant wonder. "Into
Maunish? You must be joking! To the Maunish border, no farther!
How could I risk my car in that nation of stoneheads, where girls
strut around with bare elbows and men show their teeth while eat-
ing? They drive like catatonics; the air stinks with their pickled
ramp. To the border, no farther. Perhaps you can secure onward
transportation at that point."

"Well then, what are the public conveyances between the two
countries?"

"Nothing to suit a wealthy offworlder. You would be forced to
ride the Trans-World bus with bumpkins returning to Maunish."

"That will suit me well enough. I have ridden in worse com-
pany."

"If that is your taste, you are in luck. The afternoon car passes
by in a matter of minutes. Now as to the landing fee, a vessel such
as yours is rated at two hundred SVU per week, payable a month
in advance."

Gersen laughed. "I have important friends in the neighbor-

1 HE DP MON PRINCES

854

hood. They warned me that public officers tend either to larceny
or daydreaming." He produced five SVU. "This will have to do."

The official took the money with poor grace. "It is not regular
but I suppose that exceptions are possible for the sake of good
public relations. . .. Yonder comes the Trans-World."

Along the road came a rickety triple-jointed omnibus, riding on
eight great air-wheels. Gersen flagged it down, paid another five
SVU to the driver, and found a seat.

For hours he rode across a gently rolling land of fields, rivers,
ponds, and orchards. White farmhouses sprawled under lumines-
cent foliage of pmk, rose red, orange, and yellow. The farmers
seemed prosperous; life could not be totally bad m the Land of
Leiander, even if the girls might not show their elbows.

A line of dark blue and black foliage wandered across the ho-
rizon, where the Dalglish River swung east to delineate the Maun-
ish frontier. A hundred yards short of the boundary the bus halted.
From a station house marched a sergeant and six soldiers in fine
uniforms.

The sergeant boarded the bus, put several questions to the op-
erator, who )erked his thumb toward Gersen.

The sergeant signaled to Gersen. "This way, sir, for )ust a mo-
ment. Bring your luggage."

Gersen took his small traveling bag and followed the sergeant
from the bus and into a shed. The sergeant took the bag, netted it,
looked at Gersen with a smile "I see that you are attempting to
smuggle a Model 6A pro)ac into Maumsh." He untaped a pair of
grips from the handle to the traveling bag. "This is not a new trick,
we are alert for it. Here I merely confiscate the weapon. Across on
Maumsh you would be placed in a cage, submerged in the river for
three hours, or until you were thoroughly drowned. They are bar-
bancally strict in this regard. Give me the other parts, please."

Gersen opened the bag and produced the other components,
which he had disguised by various methods. "There you are, Ser-
geant. I thank you for your warning." He )erked his right forearm
and a throwing blade appeared in his hand "You had also better
take custody of this." He shook his left arm, producing an air-tube
for shooting glass needles. "And this "

"Very wise, sir."

"Please don't sell them at once If I return this way—and I plan
to do so—I will buy them from you myself."

THE BOOK OF DRK'IMS

855

"That is often the situation, sir "

Gersen returned to the bus, which at once proceeded across the
wide Dalglish on an iron bridge and so entered the Land ofMaun-

ish.

The road slanted off across a marsh of brown mud and purple
reeds, passed through a grove of giant papaws which emitted a fetid
sweetness into the air, burst out into the sunlight, and now the
countryside had altered. Yonder, across the river was Leiander; here
was Maumsh; nothing was quite the same. The bus halted at the
Maumsh border station, in the shade of an enormous linglang tree,
with blue foliage and a gnarled contorted trunk six feet in diameter.
As before guards marched out to meet the bus. Here they wore
uniforms of gray and green instead of red, black, and tan. They
were a people notably different from the short, soft-featured Le-
landers, here they were tall, spare, with lank brown hair and bony
faces.

At a signal from the sergeant the passengers alighted and one
by one they entered a long shed, where each was examined and
searched at three separate stations. In Gersen's case they were brisk,
impersonal, and extremely thorough. They ignored his offworld or-
igin. His professed trade, |ournalism, aroused only slightly more
interest. "What do you expect to learn in Maunish?"

"Nothing of consequence. I am coming here as a tourist."

"Then why not call yourself a tourist^"

"It is no great matter, one way or the other."

"Perhaps not to a tourist, nor to a journalist, but we are security
officers responsible for the decency of Maunish. To us the roles are
very different. In the first place the tourist may stay at the Hotel
Bon Ton in Maumsh, while |ournalists must spend each night at
the police station."

"In that case I am definitely a profound tourist. I agree that the
differences are significant."

"Apparently you carry no contraband "

"Apparently not."

The official showed him a wintry smile. "You will discover that
many of our good Maunish customs become persuasively practical,
upon acquaintance. Still—and I can assure you of this, since I have
traveled widely; I have visited thirty-nine distinct and separate do-
mains—Maunish is a haven of tolerance compared to such as Mal-
chione or Dinkland. Our statutes are simple and reasonable. We

1HF DPMON PRINCES

856

forbid the advancement of polytheism and the display of white flags
We prohibit offensive belching and other breaches of the public
peace Our schedule of crimes is ordinary enough, you need only
conduct yourself with discretion to avoid trouble " He signed Ger-
sen's certificate of admission with a flourish "There you are, sir
The freedom ofMaumsh is yours'"

Gersen boarded the bus, which suddenly lurched into motion,
the border station under the sprawling blue linglang was left be-
hind The landscape was now that of Maunish, different from that
of Leiander, whether by reason of psychic shift or immanent char-
acter or altered references Gersen, who had experienced such shifts
many times before, had no way of knowing The country seemed
bigger, the sky more open In a new clarity of atmosphere the ho-
rizons seemed both far and near, in a curious visual paradox Along
the plain trees grew in private clusters and copses, each to its own
kind gmsaps, orpoons, linglangs, flamboys, the shadows below were
a dense darkling black which seemed to glimmer with a strange rich
color without a name The farmhouses were both less frequent and
older, high and narrow for no obvious reason, and set far back from
the road in )ealous seclusion   . The country became softer The
bus rolled through orchards with black trunks and effulgent pink
or yellow foliage, across brimming rivers, through hamlets, and at
last into Cloutie, to halt in the central square The sides swung up,
those passengers with business in Cloutie alighted, among them
Gersen He looked around him with interest To the young How-
ard Treesong Cloutie would ha\e seemed a most important place,
the center of the civilized universe, where he might be brought once
a year on some special occasion Across the square Gersen saw the
Hotel Eon I on, an ungainly four-story structure, high and narrow,
with a heavy overhanging roof and a pair of two-story w ings

If Howard I reesong were traveling to Gladbetook to take part
m his school reunion, quite possibly, like Gersen, he might choose
to lodge at the Bon Ton The time for caution had arrived, and
indeed might already have passed him by    At a haberdasher's
shop Cersen changed into local garments a shirt ot heav\ green
cloth, bag-breeches gathered at the knee, gra\ \\ool stockings and
black broad-toed shoes, a wide-brimmed, low-crowned black hat,
tilted somewhat to the back of the head Ihe local mannerisms—
a slow stiff-legged gait with arms at the sides and face turned

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

857

squarely forward—were less readily simulated He would still be
noticed as an outlander, but less readily

He crossed the square to the Bon Ton Hotel and entered a dim
lobby smelling of years upon years of waxed wood, moldenng
leather, heavy cushions, and unnameable local exudations The
lobby was deserted, the reception desk was dark Gersen knocked
at a wicket until a small old lady appeared from a back room. In a
shrill voice she demanded his business

Gersen replied with dignity "I wish to take lodging for a few
days "

"So indeed, where will you feed3"

"Wherever I find the best meals "

"Those are far away, over at the lake, where folk forget Stric-
ture and pamper their guts You must ingest what we choose to
serve here, in our dining room "

"Whatever is proper "

"It is very proper " The old woman peered at him slantwise
"What are you doing here5 Are you for selling things21" She con-
trived to invest the word with an emphasis at once lubncious and
minatory

"No, I am selling nothing "

"Oh " And after a pause, "Nothing whatever3"

"Nothing whatever "

"That's a pity," she declared in a voice suddenly bright and
garrulous. "I always say that a body should buy and sell as they
choose, despite the Health Agency W^here are you from3 I can't
place you You're not a Mandyke3 Nor a Booder3"

"None of those "

"Do you burn fires or pour waters3"

"No, never "

"Very well, you may have the Smiling Sunrise Room " The
woman's face became so beatifically innocent that Gersen instantly
was prompted to ask "W^hat are the rates3"

"It is our best room, reserved for important dignitaries It rents
at a corresponding level "

"How much3"

"Eighty-three SVU per diem "

"That is far too much Let me see your schedule of rates "

"Well then, five SVU   "

Gersen was pleased with his room, which included the lowest

THE DEMON PRINCES

858

of the central verandas, a bathroom paneled in white wood, an ad-
jacent sleeping cubicle, a small gymnasium.

The time was now late afternoon. Gersen descended to the
street, looked right and left, then set off to inspect the town. The
south end of the square was dominated by a stone statue and, be-
hind, a tall, austere structure, evidently a church or temple. A
plaque at the base of the statue identified the lordly form as Ban-
dervoum the Didram, who held aloft a carpenter's try square that
he might gauge the souls of the dead. Behind the church grew a
hne of heavy black deodars; gaps in the foliage revealed a field on
which stood a throng of white statues.

Near the church Gersen discovered a small stationer's shop sell-
ing a miscellaneicy of small objects. On a rack he noticed several
copies of Cosmopolis, of assorted dates, and an Extant. The Extant
cover displayed a picture of ten men and the caption:

WHO ARE THESE MEN?
NAME THEM CORRECTLY AND WIN
100,000 SVU!

Gersen entered the shop. Behind a pair of parallel counters, to
right and left, stood a pair of small girls, dressed in long-sleeved
black flocks. Their black hair was tied into topknots, so tightly
drawn that their eyes seemed to bulge. Into the hair a pair of coral-
russet fronds had been fixed. On the counter Gersen found for sale
a pamphlet entitled:

THE LAND OF MAUNISH
OFFICIAL MAP AND SURVEY

This authoritative rendering includes all roads, towns, riv-
ers, bridges, frontier posts, together with physiographic de-
tails.
Price: 25 centums.

Gersen took a copy of the map and paid over a coin. The girls
protested instantly: "Sir! The price is two SVU!"

Gersen indicated the printed notation. "The price is set at
twenty-five centums.n

"That is for local residents," said one girl.

"Outlanders must pay a surcharge," said the other.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

"Why is this?" asked Gersen, wondering how the girls knew
him for an outlander in his new Cloutie clothes.

"Because the map includes valuable secret information," said
the girl to the right in an earnest voice.

"Extremely valuable to an enemy army," said the girl to the
left, even more grave.

"But surely your enemies already possess maps ofMaunish?"

"Perhaps not all of our enemies."

"Perhaps not with so much secret detail."

"In that case," said Gersen, "your map is far more valuable than
a mere two SVU."

"True, but no one would pay such a price," said one girl.

"They would prefer to use any old thing," said the other girl.

"Well, it so happens that I am a local resident and not an en-
emy," said Gersen. "I live at the Bon Ton Hotel; therefore I am
eligible for the lower rate."

The girls stood silent, considering the theoretical basis ofGer-
sen's position; before they could formulate an argument, Gersen
was gone.

Gersen sat on a bench and studied the map. He found Glad-
betook forty miles to the north, on the banks of the Sweet Trelaw-
ney River.

Gersen continued around the square. .Along the way he noticed
a sign:

PANTILOTE GARAGES

Vehicles of Quality! Sale or Hire:

By Hour—By Day—By Week

Apply at our correctly managed workshops. You will
observe and approve the dutiful exactitude of our pro-
cesses.

29 Didram Rummel Street

Gersen located Didram Rummel Street and the Pantilote Ga-
rages, where, after considerable formality, he succeeded in renting
a three-wheeled runabout, which had been constructed on the
premises from miscellaneous bits and pieces.

THF DEMON PRINCES

860

Evening was already darkening the skies. The way to Gladbe-
took seemed too long a )ourney. Gersen arranged to call for the
vehicle on the following morning, whereupon he would drive across
Goshen Prairie to the early home of Howard Alan Treesong.

12

From the Teaching of Didram Bodo Sime, 6.6

(Obloquies against the Toper and his Drink)

Motto

It is not good to inebriate nor to souse, using swillage,
near or far beers, or distillations

Expansion

The toper is a fuming bore, a loon, a mongrel, a social
mockery' Often he soils his clothes and commits mal-
ditties. He smells and belches, his familiarities trouble
all decent folk His songs and tirnlavs offend the ears
He often gives breath to scurrilous conjecture.

The toper suborns good fruit and gives it to decay, and
the good person who wishes to enjoy the samvacity and
good savor of the wholesome fruit is bereft and must
raise this outcry "Why have you despoiled me, 0
toper, of my fruit and given it to filthy decayrf

The toper performs foolish dances He postures like a
clown and cleans his ears with broomstraws He is
prone to perform pugnacities upon good and earnest
folk who chance to halt upon their way to chide him
for his fully

North of Cloutie the countryside became wild and desolate, first
because oftheJumfer River boglands, then b\ reason of long ledges
of black rock which made the land fit only for grazing For the first

862

THE DF.MON PRINCES

time Gersen saw indigenous fauna ofMoudervelt: two-legged toad-
like creatures bounding high after flying insects; a band of lizard-
foxes, with gray-green pangolin scales and a single optic orb. They
reared high to watch Gersen pass by; when he slowed the car they
advanced with dancing sidelong steps, for purposes Gersen could
not guess. He drove on, leaving the troop staring after him.

With the Rock-Wallows behind, the solitude persisted. Empty
steppes spread away to the horizon: a land gently rolling, without
trees, lonesome and forlorn in the sunlight.

Finally, across the north, appeared a dark line: the trees along
the banks of the Great Swomey River. Once across the river the
land again became settled. Gersen drove through half a dozen ham-
lets, as like to each other as eggs: a main street, a few cross streets,
an inn, several shops, a school to the side, a hall, a temple, a varying
number of houses and cottages.

Close on midmorning Gersen arrived at Gladbetook: a village
much like those others along the road, if perhaps a trifle larger, a
condition signaled by the Uankwal! Tavern on the outskirts of town
as well as the more pretentious Swecher's Inn on the central avenue.

Gersen halted the runabout to the side of Swecher's Inn, an
ancient agglomeration of twenty guest rooms of various sizes on
different levels- The public chambers were no less irregular, with
sloping ceilings, black woodwork, and windows stained violet by a
hundred years' exposure to Van Kaathe's Starlight. The stone ex-
terior could hardly be seen for vines. Along the front, citizens of
the town sat at their ease under an arbor.

At a desk in the entry hall stood a man seven feet tall and thin
as a cane, with waxen cheelcs and cavernous eye sockets. "Your

needs, sir?"

"Lodging, if you please. I prefer a suite of several rooms."

The innkeeper inspected Gersen with raised eyebrows and sag-
ging mouth. "You are alone?"

"Quite alone."

"And you want several rooms?"

"If such a suite is available."

"It seems an immoderate taste, if I may say so. How many
rooms can you occupy at once? In how many beds do you plan to
sleep? How many sanitary requirements are essential for your
health?"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 863

"No great matter," said Gersen. "Give me a single room with
a bath.. . . Has my friend Jacob Bane arrived?"

"To Swecher's? No."

"Not yet? Any outlanders at all besides myself?"

"No one here by the name of Bane, nor any other name. You
are the first to check in today. Please settle in advance for your
accommodation. A person who arrives like a waywisp from some
far corner of the universe can depart as easily without paying his
bill."

Gersen was taken to a dim room with blue walls and a black
ceiling which seemed higher than it was wide. A stand supported a
basin of water with a scrub brush. A pad of gray felt covered the
bed, with a similar pad on the floor. Glancing into the bathroom,
Gersen discovered a state of disorder. The innkeeper anticipated
his complaints. "At the moment this is the best we can offer. The
inn is heavily booked for an occasion two nights hence. To bathe,
use the pan and the brush. For your other needs, go to the latrine
down the hall." The innkeeper departed.

Luck is mith me^ Gersen told himself. The Danku'all Tavern is
probably worse.

Gersen wasted no time in the room. He descended to the street,
looked right, in the direction he had come, then turned left and
strolled into Gladbetook's modest business district.

At Golcher Way he turned left, crossed the Sweet Trelawney
River by a mossy stone bridge. On the side stood a statue in the
likeness ofDidram Runel Fluter, who held aloft in one hand a short
curved knife, in the other a severed set of male genitalia. Behind
stood the church. A sign read:

PARTITIONERS POSITIVE OF CREATIVE TRUTH

"There is no retreat!"
"There is no looking aside!"
"There is only the Truth and its Teaching!"

A cemetery occupied the field opposite, which was bordered by
heavy deodars. Everywhere stood statues honoring the dead: sim-
ulacra carved with uncanny skill from glossy white marble or syn-
thetic stuff. The statues stood in groups and companies, arranged
as if in a colloquy of consolation for the grievous event which had
been their common lot.

THE DK.MON PRINCF.S

864

A quarter mile along the road another bridge crossed the broad,
slow Swanibel River, on its way to meet the Sweet Trelawney; be-
yond Gersen saw the Gladbetook High School. . . . He halted and
reflected a moment. The time was something short of noon. He
turned and went back along Golcher Way into town.

At a meat market Gersen asked directions to the farm owned

by Adrian Hardoah.

"Turn left at the corner by Swecher's," he was told. "Make out
of town; you'll be on Virle Way. Go four miles to the crossroads,
turn right on Bausger Lane. The second farm on the left, that's the
Hardoah place, with the big green barn. What do you want from
Hardoah? Don't think for money; he's tight as a constipated duddle

on a cheese diet."

Gersen made a noncommittal reply and went his way.
In the runabout he set out along Virle Way to the north. Four
miles across the prairie he came upon the crossroads, and turned
right into Bausger Lane. A mile along the road and a hundred yards
back from the road, he saw a farmstead surrounded by garoms and
pepper-nuts, the foliage fluorescing in the light of Van Kaathe's
Star. Another mile along the road he noticed a small cottage to the
left of the road—the Hardoah farm? It seemed somewhat modest
and even ramshackle, nor did he notice a green barn. On a bench
in the sunlight sat an old woman, small and thin, with a peaked,
wrinkled face. Beside her hung a coil of coarse string, from which
she tatted a patterned cloth, working her stiff fingers with painful

intensity.

Gersen halted the vehicle and alighted. "Good day, madam."

"Good day, sir."

"Would this be the Hardoah place?"

"No, sir. By no means. You'll find the Hardoahs yonder, a mile

along the road."

Fifty yards to the side of the bungalow Gersen noticed a dilap-
idated old structure, obviously derelict, surrounded by a copse of
blue-black ginsap. "That looks to be an old schoolhouse," said

Gersen.

"It is indeed and where I taught thirty years, and sat here an-
other twenty years watching the place fall apart. Nowadays they
take children over the hill to the new school at Leek."

"You've lived here all this time?"

"Aye, indeed. I've never had a man. I drink water and whey

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 865

and pot liquor. I follow Teaching close as close can be, and I was
judged a good teacher of the young."

"You taught Howard Hardoah, then."

"I did that. Do you know him?"

"Not well."

The old woman looked off through the air, seeing scenes across
the years. "I've often wondered what chanced with Howard. He
was an odd little boy, and moody. I've his picture somewhere, but
I'd never find it. He was like an elf-child; in fact, I remember him
now at the school pageant, where he represented the elf, all dressed
in green and brown, and an elfish little elf he was: wry and fidgety
and with an eerie face. Ah yes, and wasn't he naughty with little
Tammy Fluter, the fairy! She cried out and Howard was brought
up short, and no doubt roundly punished by his father. They were
Fundamentals, that's the strictest of the Partitioning, and mostly
died out now. You're not a Fundamentalist?"

"I'm totally ignorant of the sect."

"They espoused a strong creed, and quite sensible it all were
said that need be said. They asserted man's sins could be bred out
by careful choice, and brother married sister and cousin married
cousin, so to achieve the best. Did you notice the statue to Runel
Fluter the Didram in town? Well, he was master of the creed, and
did the work that needed to be done, hut little thanks he got, es-
pecially from those he considered unworthy. Oh, those were rare
days, with Teaching ever so strong! Now there's none left in these
parts but the Hardoahs, and they don't practice the old ideas."

"Howard must have been quite a handful."

"Sometimes, yes. Or he might be sweet as sweet could be. He
had overmuch imagination. How he loved flowers and how his little
mind worked' One day he sorted the flowers out by color, for the
Battle of the Flowers; and such wild antics never did you see, with
petals flying and the cries of the corpses. From hither to yon went
Howard, charging his Red troops against the Blues, with roses dy-
ing in great gallantry and bluebells triumphant over the vervains.
Ah me, what a day! Then he went up to high school and did poorly,
or so I'm told. He was small and young and no doubt the big boys
bullied him a bit. Then he went at odds with the Sadalflourys, and
naturally that was a scandal."

"How so?"

"Mmf—hmm. I shouldn't be calkin? so much, but it's long ago

866 THE DEMON PRINCES

and times have changed, though the Sadalflourys are still important
folk. Howard took a fancy to one of the girls, I think it was Suby.
She naturally jilted him and Howard did something very reprehen-
sible, and the Sadalflourys were in a passion of rage, only Howard
hastily departed and traveled offworld."

Gersen bent over the woman's tatting. "That's beautiful work."
"It's my best, I say no more, and it earns my victual."
Gersen gave over ten SVU. "You can start such a cloth for me.
If I don't come back, well and good, sell elsewhere, without a
thought."

"But thank you, sir'"
"Not at all. I've enjoyed your talk, and now I must be on my

wav.

A mile along the road Gersen came to a farmstead with a con-
spicuous green barn to the side. He halted the runabout and sur-
veyed the house, a queer tingle of imminence coursing along his
skin. The house was like many another: three stories high, built of
pink clapboard with blue trim at the windows, a high roof broken
by gables and dormers. In the kitchen garden a tall man in blue
trousers and a black shirt worked a cutthroat hoe. Noticing Gersen
and the runabout, he paused in his work to stare.

Gersen drove into the yard and was approached by the tall man,
evidently Adrian Hardoah. His hair was yellow-brown streaked with
gray, cut with no attention to style; his face was long, bony, and
weatherbeaten. He examined Gersen with neither cordiality nor
interest. "Sir?"

"This is Home Farm?"

"So it is."

"And you are Adrian Hardoah?"

"That is right." Adrian Hardoah spoke in a soft deep voice,
with careful pace and precise enunciation.

"I am Henry Lucas; I represent Extant magazine and I have
come here from Pontefract on Aloysius."

"Ah! That was the contest magazine." Hardoah's voice took on
a more lively note.

"True. Among millions of entries, you were the first correctly
to identify subject number six, who is, of course, your son."

Adrian Hardoah instantly became defensive. "That should
make no difference. Identification is identification."

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 867

"No argument whatever. In fact, I have come to award the
prize."

"That's grand news! How much?"

"By our rules, the first accurate single identification gains three
hundred SVU. I carry that sum with me."

"Blessings on us, with the help of the Didrams! And would you
know that you just missed Howard himself by no more than an
hour? He's come for his school reunion."

Gersen smiled and shrugged. "An odd coincidence, certainly.
But it's nothing to me, one way or the other. He just happens to
be a man in a photograph."

"He's doing well, is Howard, though he left us no coin, and
it's been many long years since he went out from home. But come
inside; the woman must hear the good news. Truth to tell, I clear
forgot the matter and never even thought to ask Howard of his
great publicity. Folk must be looking at him everywhere, with his
picture out like that."

"Few folk are so observant, sir." He followed Adrian Hardoah
up the stairs and into a tidy kitchen. A woman almost as tall as
Adrian looked around. Her face, with a hundred elusive hints of
Howard Treesong, fascinated Gersen. Under a wide square fore-
head her eyes were set a trifle too closely; a long straight nose hung
over a pale mouth and a near-invisible chin: characteristics which
for better or worse gave her an unrelenting and secretive look, with
no indication of ease or humor.

Still, to Adrian's report of his winnings, she responded with a
totally ordinary gurgle of pleasure. "Well, isn't that fine! So How-
ard has warded us willy nor nilly!"

"So it seems. Well, then, what ot a taste of tea? And a good
scone? What do you say to that, Mr. Lucas?"

"I'd say thank you very much."

At Adrian's gesture, Gersen seated himself at the table. He
brought forth a packet of notes and began to count them out.
Adrian spoke reverently. "To think that by the flick of chance, no
more, did I look toward that photograph, and only for its being in
that outw^orld jinket Extant. And who won the grand prixe?"

"Persons of the group are essentially strangers who chanced to
meet at a pleasure resort. An attendant at the resort was first to
supply the names. Your son Howard also submitted an accurate
identification, but too late."

868 THE DEMON PRINCES

Reba Hardoah smiled a caustic smile. "Isn't that just like How-
ard? He always fell short, by just so much! A pity . . . Hist! I do
hear Ledesmus. He'll be Howard's older brother, a different sort
altogether. He'll have the farm when we ford the Flowing River."

Ledesmus halted in the doorway, surprised to see the offworld
visitor. He was bulkier than his father, with apple cheeks and heavy-
lidded eyes which gave his face a look of sly humor. Adrian spoke
out: "Ledesmus, step forward to meet Mr. Henry Lucas from a far
planet. He has brought us an account of money."

Ledesmus pursed his lips to whistle. "Phee-oo! What a day!
First Howard, down from nowhere, and now Mr. Lucas."

"Coincidence," said Gersen. "Still, it's a pity I missed him, as
I am ordered to write an article on the folk in the photograph."

Adrian spoke in a voice of dispassionate judgment: "There's not
much to say about Howard. He never worked a good stint around
the farm. He dreamed away his schooltime and I daresay he's noth-
ing very much today, for all his travels."

"Now then," said Reba, "don't be too near with the boy. You've
always known him to be eerie-like."

Gersen asked, "Do you expect him back?"

Adrian responded curtly, "No."

"Strange that he should come so far to stop by for just an hour
or two."

Reba tried to explain. "Well, we expect conduct just a bit in-
decorous' from Howard. Still we grieve to see him stray from
Teaching. If only he would shake the star dust off his heels and
come back home to work the fields with Ledesmus. That would
give us joy."

Ledesmus, showing his sly grin to Gersen, said, "He won't be
back. He is more indecorous now than ever."

Adrian agreed. "He won't be back. He came out and looked
the old place over. All he'd say was: 'It's the same. But it's not the
same.' He spent as much time out in his old office as he did with
his mother."

"His office?"

"The old pump shack yonder, where he'd take himself with his
books and papers and colored pens."

1. The word '^ardespanT lacks contemporary equivalence It includes the notions of obsti-
nacy, perverse wrongheadedness, a |eenng attitude toward somber reccitude-

THE BOOK OF DRE^iMS 869

Ledesmus said soberly, "Howard read too much for his men-
tality, a lot of crazy offworld stuff. He had a chair and a table, and
halfway through the night he'd be out there burning lights, until
we called him to bed. Regular werd' was Howard."

"Where is he staying now?"

Adrian said dubiously: "He mentioned friends he wanted to
visit."

Ledesmus gave a Jeering laugh. "Friends? Howard? There was
nobody but poor Nimpy Cleadhoe, and he's no more."

"Now then," said Reba in mild reproach, "you don't know
everything, Ledesmus."

Adrian said, "He came mainly for his school reunion. Still, a
person would think he'd want to bide at home. After all, it's here
he was born and here he was bred, and this is the dirt that made
up his bones."

Gersen pushed the sheaf of SVU certificates over to Adrian
Hardoah. "There you are, sir, and our gratitude for participating
in the contest. I suppose you'll want to subscribe to ExtantV

Adrian pulled at his chin. "We'll give thought to the matter.
It's an offworld jinket and beyond our concerns. If I can't fathom
the acts of the False-head Ulms in next land to north of us, how
can I hope to understand the doings at Alpheratz, or Caph? No,
we'll study our own knowledge. Which, after all, is Pure Truth. So
the Didrams tell us."

"Blessed be the Teaching," murmured Reba.

Gersen rose to his feet. "I'd like to look about your farm, if I
may. It will serve as background for the article 1 must write on
Howard."

"Certainly. Ledesmus, show the gentleman about."

Gersen and Ledesmus went out into the yard. Ledesmus peered
sidelong at Gersen. "So now you must write of Howard? Who
wants to read of him?"

"There's great interest in the contest. I'll mention your father
and mother and, naturally, vou."

"Indeed now. There'll be my picture and all?"

1. A man-shaped siipernan.ir.il being who prowls b\ night and sleeps underground by day.
According to Mannish folklore, it hides in the shadows, -waiting to pounce on children
and carry them away.

870 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Unfortunately not. I don't have a camera with me. . . . You're
older than Howard?"

"Aye, three years."

"Did you get along well?"

"Well enough. Father allowed no bickers. I did the work and
Howard dreamed away in his office."

Gersen stood irresolute. The spoor of Howard Alan Treesong
was strong but seemed to lead nowhere. "I'd like to look into How-
ard's office."

"Right yonder. It's changed not at all in thirty years. We pump
irrigation water from the pond for orchard and truck. House water
we draw up from the well; that's another pump."

Ledesmus led the way to a shed ten feet long by eight feet wide.
He pulled at the door, forcing it open against the screech of cor-
roded hinges. Two windows admitted light and showed a dusty
clutter.

"Place hasn't changed much," said Ledesmus. "Yonder is his
table, and that's the very chair where he planted his bewalkus.
These shelves held his books and papers; he was neat, was Howard,
with everything just so."

"And where are the books and papers?"

"Hard to say. Some are back to the house, some destroyed.
Howard was fidgety with his things; when he took to far ports little
enough was left behind. Howard liked his secrets."

"Had he friends? What of girls?"

Ledesmus made a guttural sound of scornful amusement.
"Howard never had the knack for girls. He talked too much and
acted too little, if you get my meaning. He liked little young girls,
and he played dirty on one or two, but don't print that." Ledesmus
looked over his shoulder toward the house. "Father never heard
these tales. He'd have skinned Howard for wallpaper. It didn't mean
much; Howard just wanted to try out the equipment; after all, that's
why it's there, aren't I right? Teaching is a bit vague on this score,
but if Sarter Martus didn't want girls for to play on, he'd have
wrought them with snap-teeth, like fish traps, if you get mv mean-
ing. His great love was a girl called—what was it now? She drowned
in Persimmon Lake . . . Zada Memar, a pretty thing . . . Friends?
There was Nimpy Cleadhoe from down the road. He and Howard
roamed the woods together and went out for nuts; and he was

THE ROOK OF DREAMS 871

somewhat a friend. Father didn't like it because old man Cleadhoe
was then town marmelizer."

"What's a marmelizer?"

"You've seen the cemetery, where dead folk stand? They're all
marmels. It's low work, with dead stuff and all. Still, they're gone
now, and that was Howard's friend, if friends thevwere." Ledesmus
turned Gersen a sheepish smile. "I ruined that friendship, me and
my foolishness."

"How so?"

"Well, Howard treasured a red writing book and he was most
private of it. One time Nimpy called him out of his office and sent
him to see Mother, over something or another. I reached through
the window and took the red book and tossed it over the pump.
Well, as luck would have it, the book slid behind the siding. I went
back of the barn and waited. Howard came out and went to lock
up his book and couldn't find it, and then I never saw such crazy
doings. He began talking in funny voices and hopping around.
Then he saw poor innocent Nimpy, and jumped him. I ran out and
pulled him away before he killed the boy. That was Howard's friend
and he wasn't a friend after that; in fact he never come back. How-
ard went off to summer Teaching, and I forgot about the book.
Let's see if it's still there." Ledesmus stepped over the pump, pulled
aside the wallboard, and thrust down his arm. "Hope I don't grab
the hot end of a cang1 ... I got it." He held up a red notebook and
tossed it to Gersen, who took it out into the sunlight and glanced
through the contents.

Ledesmus came from the pump room. "What's in the book?"

Gersen handed it over and Ledesmus nipped through the pages.
"Nothing important. .. W^hat kind of writing is that? 1 never saw
anything like it before."

"It's hard to make out."

"Whatever, it's tomfoolery. What's the use of writing what no-
body can read? . . . Here's pictures: dukes and kings in fancy dress.
Silly rigobands at a carnival. Father thought Howard was copying
out the Organon. I thought he was making up girl-stuff. Howard
fooled us all."

"It would seem so," said Gersen. "I'll take it off your hands for

1 Indigenous stinging insect, reaching a length of four inches.

872 THE DEMON PRINCES

a souvenir of Gladbetook. Would you take ten SVU for your trou-
ble?"

"Well, I don't know—" Ledesmus hesitated, then took the
money. "I guess it's nothing Father would want. Just don't speak
of the matter."

"I'll say nothing, and you don't mention the book to Howard
should you see him before I do. I wonder where he's staying."

Ledesmus shrugged. "I think he planned to stay here, until he
had words with Father, and he left as soon as he arrived. He might
be at Swecher's Inn since that's the best in town."

Once more in Gladbetook, Gersen went to the arbor in front
of Swecher's Inn and found a seat at one of the tables, his back to
the lowering afternoon sun, his black shadow across the scrubbed
pinkwood table. A tall, gangling boy, all arms, legs, and neck, came
to inquire his needs. "How, sir?"

"What are you serving for lunch?"

"Lunch is out, sir. Just a bit too late. I could get you a dish of
maunce, with a crust of our good bread."

"WTiat is maunce?"

"W^ell, it's a kind of put-together, from herbs and river fish."

"That will do me very well."

"And will you drink?"

"What's to be had?"

"Whatever you choose, sir."

"I'd like a pint of cold beer."

"That we don't serve, sir, cold or warm."

"In that case, show me the card, or the list."

"Nothing of the sort here, sir. People know what they like with-
out reading about it."

"I see. . . . What are those folk yonder taking?"

"They have our chilled gruel seepings."

"And those folk to the side?"

"They take tanglefoot soak."

'What else can be had?"

"Kidney tonic. Nibbet. Soursap toddy. Belchberry sprig."

"Whatisnibbet?"

"Vitalizing tea."

"I'll try nibbet."

"At once, sir."

The boy departed and Gersen was left to ponder his situation.

THE ROOK OF DRK4A1S S73

Near at hand, perhaps within earshot, was Howard Alan Treesong;

Gersen could feel the weight of his presence. If Gersen could lure
him a few steps out of town, perhaps through mention of the old
red notebook, and drown him in the Sweet Trelawney, there would
be a satisfactory end to the affair. Unlikely that all would go so
well. . . . The serving boy brought a platter of fish stew, bread, and
a pot of tea.

Gersen poured the tea, tasted, to discover flavors to which he
could put no names. One of the ingredients seared first the tongue,
then the entire oral cavity. The servant boy, hiding a grin, asked
politely: "Sir, is nibbet to your taste?"

"Excellent." Gersen had devoured white curry in the Lascar
Quarter of Zamboanga; he had drunk pepper rum in Mama Potts's
Swillery at Sairle City on Copus. "Incidentally, I'm expecting a
friend from offworld. He doesn't seem to be here at the inn. Are
you reserving rooms for Mr. Slade or any other foreigners?"

"That I don't know, sir."

Gersen produced a coin. "Find out, but discreetly, as I want to
surprise my friend. He's coming for the school reunion."

The boy scooped up the coin and departed. Gersen stolidly ate
the maunce as he had eaten dozens of other such dishes across the
inhabited planets.

The boy returned. "Nobody like that here, sir, and we're hold-
ing no rooms."

"Where else could he be?"

"Well, there's Dankwall Tavern down the road, but their rooms
are poor; and there's Ott's Resort out on Skooney's Lake, where
rich owls go to roost. Else, there's nothing closer than the inn at
Blurry Corners."

"I see. Where is the telephone?"

"In the office, but first pay for maunce and nibbet—I've had
such tricks played on me before."

"Just as you like." Gersen laid down coins. "On second
thought"—Gersen gave the boy another SVU—"be so good as to
call first Skooney's Lake, then the Dankwall Tavern, and inquire
as to offworld visitors here for the school reunion. Mind you, dis-
creetly now' Don't so much as mention me."

"As you say, sir."

Minutes passed. Gersen essayed another taste of nibbet. The
boy returned. "No one known, sir. The reunion is mostly locals,

S74 THE DEMON PRINCES

though there'll be a few in from foreign places. Ditty Jingol's uncle
is in from Bantry and some others from Wimping. Your friend will
likely be along tonight. Anything else, sir?"

"Not just now."

The boy departed. Gersen brought out the red book. On the
front was a title, carefully printed in block letters:

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

Gersen opened the book and concentrated his attention upon
young Howard Hardoah's handwriting. . . . An hour passed, two
hours.

Gersen looked up, turned, gauged the height of Van Kaathe's
Star. Late afternoon. He slowly closed the book and tucked it into
his pocket. He beckoned to the serving boy. "What is your name?"

"My name is Vitching, sir."

"Vitching, this is an SVU. It is for you. Presently there will be
another. In return I want you to perform a service for me."

Vitching blinked. "All very well, sir, but how? I can't counter-
wink Teaching. I'd blight all my good deeds of the past."

"You'll find no conflict with Teaching. I want you to watch for
that offworld person I mentioned to you."

"Well—one thing with another, I see no reason why I can't do
this work."

"Remember, the work must be done in secrecy! If one word
leaks out, I'll be seriously angry."

"No need to fear, sir."

Gersen transferred the SVU to the skinny-fingered hand. "I am
now going out to walk about the town."

"Precious little to see, sir, for folk like you who have been to
Cloutie."

"Well, I'll still look about. Mind you, not a word to anyone of
our business."

"Right, sir."

Gersen set out along the street, and now he felt conspicuous in
his citified Cloutie clothes. He paused at a clothing shop and looked
over the merchandise. A tray beside the door displayed sharp-toed
black boots. On a rack hung scarves, hats, and high gaiters in mole-
skin gray, embroidered with green and red. He entered the shop
and fitted himself out in Gladbetook style: a high-shouldered coat

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 875

of black furze, loose-bottomed trousers, gathered at the knees with
black straps, a wide green hat fitting low over his forehead instead
of tilted back, Cloutie-style. Looking in the mirror Gersen saw a
bumpkin sufficiently bland and moony to deceive any offworld eye.

Leaving the shop, he turned down Golcher W^ay. He crossed
the Sweet TreWney, passed Didram Runel Fluter, the Orthome-
tric Ghurch and, opposite, the cemetery where marmels of the dead
stood with their kindred. With uneasy side-glances Gersen marched
past, in the uncanny conviction that blank white eyes shifted to
watch as he went by. A quarter mile beyond, he crossed the Swan-
ibel River, and once again stood before the school, a structure con-
forming to the most elaborate tenets ofMaunish architecture. Each
side extended a wing capped by a baroque tower; a heavy, steep-
faced roof culminated in a belfry of fluted brass, surmounted by a
tall brass finial. In the silver-gold light from the setting Van Kaa-
the's Star each detail, each crotchet, bracket, and ornament was
picked out in strong contrast. Over the gate a sign read:

25th Anniversary Reunion
Welcome the return
of the famous Galloping Flatfish Class

Galloping flatfish? An old pleasantry, a special joke to be ap-
prehended only by members of the class ... An effort to think of
Treesong in this environment, walking this road, climbing the
school steps, peering from the tall windows . . .

Between the north wing and the Swanibel extended a paved
pavilion, a place for students to idle, gossip, survey the river. A
dozen men and women worked on the pavilion now: hanging fes-
toons, arranging tables and chairs, decorating the speaker's platform
with banderoles, tall gilt fans, and tassels.

Gersen sauntered into the driveway, climbed broad steps of pol-
ished red porphyry, crossed a piazza, approached a line ofbronze-
and-glass doors, one of which stood ajar.

Gersen entered, found himself in a long central hall that ran
east and west. At the far end, Van Kaathe's Star poured level light
through other glass doors. On the walls to either side hung a suc-
cession of group photographs: graduating classes reaching far into
the past.

Gersen stood listening. Silence except for a wisp of music, ris-

876 THE DEMON PRINCES

ing, falling, halting abruptly. A nearby door stood open. Looking
through, Gersen saw a tall thin-faced man with a bush of white hair
and a pair of girls, each of whom played the flageolet in time to
majestic sweeps of the man's long arms.

Gersen moved away and looked up at the photographs. He saw
a date fifty-two years past. As he proceeded along the corridor the
dates approached the present. Gersen halted at the photograph dis-
playing the class of twenty-five years before and studied the young
faces gazing forth, some proudly posing, others grinning sheepishly,
still others sullen and bored with the entire procedure. . . . Voices
and footsteps. From the music room came the instructor and his
pupils The instructor stared suspiciously at Gersen. The girls, after
an incurious glance, departed. The instructor spoke m a voice stiff
and pedantic: "Sir, the school is not open to visitors. I am now
leaving and must lock the door. May I ask you to leave2"

'T have been waiting for you, sir. Might we speak together a
moment?"

"Concerning what2"

Gersen began to develop an idea which had just entered his
head "You are professor of music here at the school2"

"Here I am Professor Kutte. I give lessons; from little musical
barbarians I create the majesty of an orchestra Away from here, I
am Valdemar Kutte, Master Musician, and Director of the Grand
Salon Orchestra." Valdemar Kutte raked Gersen up and down with
eyes sharpened by decades of instructing children in the correct
fingering of piano, lute, harp, flageolet, and liltaphone. "And who
are you, Mr. Offworlder, so I see?"

"How do you see that2" asked Gersen. "I thought to look an
ordinary Gladbetooker."

"Not with those clumsy boots. And you wear your trousers low.
Here we cultivate style, not slackness. Without intent to offend,
you seem like someone dressed for a charade."

Gersen laughed ruefully. "I will try to profit by your instruc-
tion."

"Good day, sir. We must depart."

"One moment. Is the Grand Salon Orchestra playing at to-
morrow's festival2"

Valdemar Kutte responded curtly "They have engaged no or-
chestra whatever, owing to financial stringencies "

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 877

"Circumstances would seem to warrant the presence of your
orchestra."

"Perhaps so. As always there is someone to hold a tight hand
on the purse strings—usually the most affluent of the persons in
authority."

"This is how they become affluent."

"Yes, perhaps."

"How long have you been musical director here?"

"Far too long. I celebrated my twenty-fifth anniversary three
years ago. I may add that no one took notice of the 'celebration'
save myself."

"So then you instructed these folk2" Gersen indicated the pho-
tograph on the wall.

"Many of them . .. Some had will but no talent. Some had tal-
ent but no will. Many more lacked both. A very few displayed both
qualities, and these I remember."

"What of this group? Who were the musicians2"

"Aha. Darben Sadalfloury had a nice touch on the tantalem. I
believe that he still plays. Poor Mirtisha van Boufer—she labored
four years on the vanence but always played flat. Howard Hardoah,
he was most adept but undisciplined. Alas, I believe that he might
have gone far."

"Howard Hardoah2 Which would he be2"

"Third row down on the end, the lad with the brown hair."

Gersen scrutinized the young Howard Alan Treesong, who
showed a not ill-favored face with a square forehead, wide and high,
neat light brown hair, an intense blue-gray gaze. The candid and
wholesome effect was flawed by a foxy chin, a drooping girlish
mouth, and a nose somewhat too long and too thin.

"—Fadra Hessel of course plays loitre to this day at the cate-
chisms. I confess my memory brings forward little else. Sir, we must
depart and lock the school "

The two made their exit; the door was locked Valdemar Kutte
bowed. "A pleasure talking to you, sir."

"One moment," said Gersen. "A pleasant concept has come to
mind. I have strong sentiments toward this particular class, and I,
as an anonymous benefactor, will engage an orchestra, to augment
the )oy of the occasion. Can you suggest such an orchestra?"

The instructor stood erect, eyes snapping. "Fortuitously, I can
do so I refer you to the Valdemar Kutte Grand Salon Orchestra,

878 THE DFA10N PRINCES

which I personally supervise. It is the only conceivable choice. True,
there are other local groups: scattleboggers, bang-and-bump
groups, and the like, but I control the single musical organization
worthy of the name this side ofCloutie."

"And are you available for the evening in question?"

"By chance, I am quite free."

"Then consider yourself engaged, as of now. What will be your
fee?"

"Well, let me think. . . . How many pieces will you require?
Generally, I present two tarables, on the right and left; zumbolt,
soprano pipe, gamba, cornet, vibre, fiddles, a guitar and flageolet,
in the classical manner. For an engagement of this sort I ordinarily
ask two hundred SVU but—" Professor Kutte looked dubiously at
Gersen's attire.

"I won't quibble," said Gersen. "You are hired, at two hundred
and fifty SVU. My only stipulation is this: I want to become a
member of your orchestra for this engagement only."

"Eh? You are a musician?"

"I can't play a note. I'll tap quietly on a drum and not disturb
anyone."

"You would disturb us all! The drum is a baby's noisemaker!"

"What would you suggest?"

"This is preposterous. Why cannot you merely listen from be-
yond the fence?"

"I want to participate close at hand. Still, if you can't—"

"No! We will find a way. Can you play so much as a tin
whistle?"

Gersen could not help but feel humiliation at his incompetence.
"I have never so much as tried."

"Bah! This is bathos. Come with me. We will see what we can
do."

13

The only good drummer is a dead drummer.
—Valdemar Kutte

Director, Grand Salon Orchestra
of Gladbetook

In Valdemar Kutte's studio, Gersen was handed a long wooden
flute. "A child's instrument," said Kutte disdainfully. "Still, to sit
with the Grand Salon one must play, if only a wooden pipe. Now,
fingers here, here, here. So. Now blow."

Gersen achieved a sour tone.

"Once more."

Three hours later Gersen had learned one of the five basic scales
and Kutte was fatigued. "For now, that is enough. I will number
these stops: one, four, five, and eight. We shall play simple tunes:

promenades, gallops, an occasional ramble. You will play one-five
one-five one-five-eight one-five-eight, in time to the music, occa-
sionally four-five-eight, or one-four-five. W^en we use a different
mode I will furnish you a different instrument. I can do no more.
Please pay me my fee in advance, plus twenty-four SVU for three
hours' intensive instruction."

Gersen paid over the money.

"Now then! Take this flute. When opportunity offers, practice.
Play the scale. Play simple progressions. Above all: learn one-five-
eight one-five one-five."

"I'll do my best."

"You must do better than your best! Remember, it is the Grand
Salon Orchestra with whom you play! Even though 'play' is a pre-

THE DF.MON PRINCF.S

880

tentious word for your level of achievement, and you will of course
be making only soft sounds. I hope that all will go well. It is an
eccentric situation, but for a musician, life is a succession of re-
markable events. We will meet here tomorrow, at middle afternoon.
Then you will go to Van Zed's store to he fitted in proper musi-
cian's uniform, as worn by the Grand Salon Orchestra; I will in-
struct him before you arrive. Then, after securing your uniform,
come here and 1 will supply further instructions, as best I can. Who
knows? This occasion may make a musician of you!"
Gersen looked doubtfully at the flute. "Perhaps so."

Once more at Swecher's Inn, Gersen dined on lentil paste, a stew
of pale meat and herbs, a salad of river reeds, and a half loaf of
crusty bread. Vitching, the serving boy, reported no success in his
investigations but Gersen rewarded him suitably.

Darkness fell on Gladbetook. Leaving the inn, Gersen wan-
dered up the main avenue to the center of town. At each corner of
the square a tall post supported a white-green globe around which
careened dozens of foot-long pink insects, with eight soft wings to
either side like the oars of a galley.

The shops were dark and empty. The haberdasher had ne-
glected to move his tray of boots inside, and his scarves hung as
before, where anyone so inclined could purloin the entire selection.
Other merchants seemed equally casual; the folk of Gladbetook
were evidently not addicted to larceny.

In the center of town nightlife was nonexistent. Gersen re-
turned along the main street, past Swecher's, to the Dankwall Tav-
ern, where in the common room, to the light of a few dim lamps,
a half dozen farm workers drank sour-smelling beer. . .. Gersen re-
turned to Swecher's Inn, went up to his room, where he softly
practiced the flute for an hour, until his lips failed. Then he brought
out The Book of Dreams and puzzled over its crabbed script. Appar-
ently young Howard had evolved a set of heroic tales, involving a
company of heroes, whose persons Howard had depicted with lov-
ing care and in the most intricate detail.

Gersen put the book aside and tried to make himself comfort-
able upon the unyielding bed.

In the morning he followed Kutte's instructions. He practiced
the flute, and presented himself to Kutte's studio on the extension

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 881

of Golcher Way a hundred yards south of the square. Kutte heard
him play the scales without enthusiasm.

"Now try one-four-five."

"I haven't reached that stage yet."

Kutte raised his eyes to the ceiling. He heaved a sigh. "Well,
what must be, must be: that is the lesson all musicians learn. I have
spoken to Mrs. Lavenger. She is chairman of the reunion. I told
her that an anonymous benefactor had hired the Grand Salon Or-
chestra and she was very pleased. We must arrive tomorrow after-
noon at the fourth hour and arrange ourselves. We will play before
the supper when the guests drink liquor outland fashion, and during
supper. After supper there will be encomiums and congratulations,
then several dance promenades, and no doubt the stylish folk will
take punch, which is not my habit, needless to say. As an out-
worlder, you have probably seen inebriation in your time?"

"I have so, indeed."

"Glory to the Teaching Didrams! Think of that! Still, you seem
a relatively sound man!"

"I seldom, if ever, drink overmuch."

"But is not the stuff pernicious?"

"I've heard opinions in both directions."

Kutte seemed not to hear. He knit his eyebrows thoughtfully.
"Where, to your knowledge, is the most intolerably drunken den
of the Oikumene?"

Gersen considered. "Not an easy choice to make. A hundred
thousand saloons from Earth out to Last Call clamor for that dis-
tinction. Twast's Place on Krokinole can hold its head high, Dirty
Red's on the pier at Daisy's Landing, on Canopus III, is another
well-known resort."

"How fortunate are we in Gladbetook! Our decency is the envy
of the cosmos! However, and I say this with regret, tomorrow night
our reputation may become tarnished. The Sadalflourys, the van
Bessems, the Lavengers—all surely will taste essences and stings.
But none will trouble us, so I feel assured or at least hopeful. Once
more—let us hear those scales. ... Now: one-five-eight. One-four-
five. One-five one-five . . . One-four-five . . . Harp on the Sacred
Ram! Stop! It will have to do; today I can hear no more. Practice
diligently tonight. Concentrate on sound production, on tone, just-
ness, pitch, timbre, clarity, precise attack, and sonority. WTien you
alter tones, raise one finger, depress the other simultaneously, not

882 I HP UFMON PRINCES

after a lapse of a second or so Practice finger placement "When
you seek to put a finger on tour, let it be four, neither two nor six.
Cultivate verve, avoid that dreary flatness which now pervades vour
articulation. Is this all clear3"

"Perfectly."

"Good'" cried Valdemar Kutte heartily. "Tomorrow will show
us hope and improvement."

On the following afternoon the orchestra assembled at Kutte's stu-
dio. Kutte distributed scores, took Gersen aside and listened as he
played his parts. Kutte had arrived at a state of fatalistic calm and
made no expostulations. "It will have to do," he said. "Play very
softly and all will be well, especially if essences flow freely."

Kutte led Gersen before the other musicians "All, pay heed' I
wish to introduce my friend Mr. Gersen, who has become an am-
ateur of the flute. He plays experimentally on this single occasion
only. We must all try to be polite to him."

The musicians turned to look at Gersen and muttered among
themselves. Gersen submitted to the attention with as much aplomb
as he could muster.

The orchestra set off down Golcher Way, each man carrying
his instrument, except Gersen, who carried five flutes, tuned in var-
ious modes. All were dressed alike, in black suits—high-shouldered
coats and bag-bottom breeches—gray gaiters, pointed black shoes,
flat-crowned black hats with down-drooping brims.

The group approached the school and Gersen grew ever more
uneasy. The scheme which originally had seemed so ingenious now,
as the critical moment approached, he saw to be inconvenient,
cranky, and uncertain. If Howard Treesong gave the musicians
more than a cursory look, he might recogni/e Henry Lucas of£a-
tant, which would create an awkward situation. Howard Treesong
would undoubtedly arrive well armed and with an entourage. In
contrast, Gersen carried five flutes and a kitchen knife bought the
same morning from an ironmonger.

The orchestra filed into the pavilion, placed their instruments
upon the platform, and waited while Valdemar Kutte conferred
with Ossim Sadalfloury, of the locally important Sadalfloury family
a portly and jovial man in a fine suit of dark green gabardine.

Valdemar Kutte re)omed the orchestra. "A collation will be set

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

behind the pavilion for our convenience. It will include braised na-
vets and conserve; there will also be tea and raisin water."

At the back of the group someone muttered and laughed; Kutte
glared and spoke with meaningful emphasis. "Mr. Sadalfloury re-
alizes that we are all valetudenanans and respects our convictions.
No essences or fermented products will be served to the orchestra,
as that in any event would detract from its performance. So now,
up on the platform, hup, hup, hah' Lively and smart, everyone!"

The musicians seated themselves on the platform, arranged mu-
sic, tuned instruments. Kutte placed Gersen in the back row, be-
tween the zumbold and the gamba, both instruments played by
large blond men of phlegmatic disposition.

Gersen arranged his flutes in the order Kutte had dictated. He
played a few tentative scales, contriving to seem musicianly, then
he sat back and watched the old classmates as they entered the
pavilion. Many were local residents, others had arrived from out-
lying townships. A few resided in far lands, and a few had made the
journey to Gladbetook from offworld. They greeted each other
with cries of marveling surprise and brassy laughter, each astonished
to discover how the others had aged. Hearty salutations were ex-
changed between folk of equal social standing, greetings more care-
fully measured took place between persons of disparate status.

Howard Hardoah, as these folk knew him, was not yet in evi-
dence. When he arrived, what then^ Gersen had not even the ves-
tige of a plan.

At the fourth hour of the afternoon the reunion officially began.
The tables were already filled with groups. To the right of the
bandstand the gentry had tended to collect; to the left sat farm folk
and shopkeepers. A few tables to the far left were occupied by river
folk, who lived on barges, the men wearing brown corduroy, the
women coarse-woven pantaloons and long-sleeved blouses. The
gentry, so Gersen noted, sipped liqueurs from exquisite little flag-
ons of blue and green glass. When a flagon was empty, it was
dropped with a mannered gesture into a basket.

Valdemar Kutte, carrying a fiddle, stepped up on the platform.
He bowed to right and left, then turned to his orchestra. " 'Shar-
melld's Dance,' the full version Easy but lightsome, not too much
vigor in the duets, are we ready^' Kutte glanced at Gersen, waved
a finger. "The fourth mode  . No, not that one . . Yes, correct."

He jerked his elbows; the orchestra broke into a merry bounce-

884 THE DEMON PRINCES

about, with Gersen blowing the tiute as he had been taught, though
quietly.

The piece ended. Gersen gratefully put down the flute. It might
have gone worse, he thought. The basic rule seemed to be to stop
playing w^en everyone else stopped.

Valdemar Kutte bespoke another tune, and as before signaled
Gersen in regard to the proper instrument.

The tune "Bad Bengfer" was familiar to everyone present. All
vigorously sang the choruses and stamped their heels on the floor.
The song, so far as Gersen could determine, celebrated the esca-
pades of Bengfer, a drunken roustabout, who fell into the cesspool
at the back of Buntertown. Convinced that he had fallen into a vat
of "Nip-doodle Beer," he drank to satiety, and when Van Kaathe's
Star rose to illuminate the scene, astonished passersby discovered
Bengfer's rotund belly protruding above the banks of the cesspool.
An unsavory song, thought Gersen, but Valdemar Kutte conducted
his orchestra with gusto. Gersen took advantage of the general con-
fusion to blow more daringly into his flute, receiving only a warning
glance or two from Kutte.

A gentleman from a table to the right came up to the bandstand
and spoke to Valdemar Kutte, who responded with a peevish if
obsequious bow.

Kutte addressed the company. "By request. Miss Taduca
Milgher will sing for us."

"Oh no!" cried Taduca Milgher from her table. "Utter terror!"

She was urged to the platform while Valdemar Kutte stood
smiling sourly.

Taduca Milgher sang several ballads: "A Lonesome Bird Am
I," "My Little Red Barge on the River," and "Pinkrose, the Space
Pirate's Daughter."

The tables were full; the latecomers apparently had all arrived.
Gersen began to wonder if I loward Treesong would after all be on
hand for the occasion.

Taduca Milgher retired to her table. Supper was announced,
and the orchestra went to enjoy their collation behind the service

screen.

Evening had come to Gladbetook. A hundred fairy lamps hang-
ing from a bamboo trellis illuminated the pavilion. At their tables
the patricians dined at leisure and took their liqueurs. Folk who

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 885

interpreted Teaching more earnestly sat over pots of tea, but missed
very little of what went on at the stylish tables.

Unreality, thought Gersen. Where was Howard Treesong?
Near at hand? came a sudden message from his subconscious, harsh
and strong. Gersen looked across the edge of the pavilion, out over
the river meadow. .. . Time seemed to freeze. Unreality dissipated.
Now was the true, the real Now. Near the river three men stood
motionless, looking toward the pavilion. Gersen turned, looked off
toward the road. By the fence, faces and garments blurred by twi-
light, stood three other men. Gersen knew by their postures that
these were not men of Gladbetook.

All was changed. To this moment the reunion had been an
occasion of froth and fancy: exaggerated, quaint, absurd. Beyong
the glimmer of the fairy lamps were fancies of another sort, brood-
ing and sinister. Gersen went to the edge of the pavilion and looked
to the south. He discerned other shapes, inconspicuous under a
copse of elms. . ..

Kutte called his orchestra back to the platform. "Now then!
We will play 'Rhapsody of Dreaming Maidens.' Mind now! Grace
and delicacy."

Revelry among the reunited schoolmates had reached a mellow
state of joviality and good fellowship. Friends called to old friends
across the pavilion, recalling escapades, feats, and jokes. Social rig-
ors were loosening; badinage included folk along the length of the
pavilion: "—never, never! It was Crambert all the while! I was cen-
sured and blamed—" "Hoy there, Sadkin! Remember the stink-
flower in Miss Boab's bouquet? What a lark, eh?" "—most fearful
scandal ever! That was a year before your time! He was known as
'Pussy-britches' ever after." "WTiat happened to Tussy-britches'?"
"Drowned in the Quade Canal, poor chap. Fell from his barge."
"Worse scandal yet was Fimfle's periscope; remember that?" "Aye,
so I do. Over the transom into the girl's dressing room, for knees,
elbows, and all between." "What a thought was that!" "Fimfle!
What a sorry chap! Where is he tonight?" "Not a clue." "Hey
there, whatever happened to Fimfle?" "Don't mention the horrid
little fellow." —This from Adelie Lagnal at the Sadalfloury table.

A sound like the lowest tone of an enormous gong—was it real?
or subliminal? Gersen felt it, but no one else seemed to notice.

In the entrance stood a tall, square-shouldered figure. Tight
trousers of green velour encased his long strong legs; over a loose

886 THE DF.MON PRINCES

long-sleeved white shirt he wore a black vest with purple and gold
fobs. His ankle-boots were pale brown leather; a soft black cap was
pulled askew across his wide high forehead. He stood in the en-
trance, smiling a twisted smile. Then with exaggerated self-
effacement, he went to a vacant table nearby and seated himself,
still smiling his twisted smile. From the Sadalfloury table came a
hoarse choked whisper, which penetrated a sudden silence: "It's
Fimfle himself!"

Howard Alan Treesong, or Howard Hardoah, slowly turned his
head and looked toward the Sadalflourys. Then he glanced toward
the bandstand. His gaze passed over Gersen and fixed upon Val-
demar Kutte, and his smile became a trine wider.

The school chums resumed their conversations. Back and forth
went the badinage, but not so easy and not so free, as eyes turned
curiously toward Howard Hardoah.

At last Morna van Hulgen, one of the chairwomen, took herself
in hand and, approaching, gave him a hearty and only faintly false
welcome, which Howard Hardoah accepted graciously. Morna van
Hulgen gestured toward the buffet table, proffering supper. How-
ard Hardoah smiled, shook his head. Morna looked uncertainly
around the room, from group to group, then turned back to the
suave man at the table before her. "It's so nice seeing you after all
these years! I'd never have known you—except you haven't really
changed! The years have been kind to you!"

"Very kind indeed. I am happy with them."

"I don't remember your particular friends. . . . But you mustn't
sit here alone. There's Saul Cheebe; you remember him? He's sit-
ting with Elvinta Gierle and her husband from Puch."

"Of course I remember Saul Cheebe. I remember everyone and
everything."

"Why not join him? Or Shimus Woot? There's so much to talk
about." She indicated the tables which were well to the left end of
the room.

Howard Hardoah glanced briefly toward the tables in question.
"Saul or Shimus, is it? Both, as I recall, were lummoxes, dull and
dirty. I, on the other hand, was a philosopher."

"Well, perhaps so. Still, people do change."

"Not so! Consider me, for instance. I am still a philosopher,
even more profound than before!"

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 887

Morna made uneasy movements preparatory to edging away.
"Well, that's very nice, Howard."

"So then, with these considerations in mind, what groups would
you recommend that I join? The Sadalflourys yonder? Or the van
Bouyers? Or for that matter, your own?"

Morna pursed her lips and blinked. "Really, Howard! I'm sure
that you'd be welcome anywhere, it's just that, well, at school, you
know, and I thought—"

"You thought of me as a poor vagabond of space, returning,
tired and forlorn but full of sentiment, to rejoin Shimus and Saul
at our class reunion. In some respects, Morna, time is like a mag-
nifying lens. As a boy I never so much as tasted liqueurs or essences.
I brooded upon these illicit delights, and the pretty little flasks be-
came objects of fascination and wonder. Be so good as to signal for
the steward, Morna, and sit with me. Together we will taste Nectar
of Phlox and Blue Tears and Now-You-See-Me."

Morna drew back a step. "There is no general steward here,
Howard. The drink you see has been privately supplied. And
now—"

"In that case I will accept your invitation." Howard Hardoah
jumped to his feet. "We will join your table, and no doubt Wim-
berly can spare a flask or two from his basket." With a debonair
gesture he urged Morna across the pavilion to the table she shared
with her spouse, Wtmberly, Bloy andJenore Sadalfloury, Peder and
Ellicent Vorvelt.

The group gave Howard Hardoah a cool and minimal welcome.
His response was an easy salute- "Thank you all. Morna has com-
mended me to this noble old Blue Tears, and I will gladly take a
dram or two. Gentlemen and ladies, my best regards' Let the fes-
tivities proceed!"

"There is no formal program," saidJenore, "Are none of your
old friends here?"

"Just yourselves," said Howard Hardoah. "No program, you
say? We must see about that. After all, a reunion should be mem-
orable! Thank you, Wimberly, I'll try another gill. Hey there, Di-
rector Kutte, strike up a tune!"

Valdemar Kutte performed a rigid inclination of the head and
shoulders. Howard Hardoah chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
"He has altered not a whit; same dry old frump. Some of us develop

THK DEMON PRINCES

in one direction, some in another. Right, Blov? You've developed
outward; indeed, you're quite corpulent."

Bloy Sadalfloury became red in the face. "It is not a matter 1
care to discuss."

Howard Ilardoah had already passed on to a different subject.
"So many Sadalflourys in Fluter Township I can't keep the various
branches separate. As I recall, you are of the senior line."

"That is correct."

"And who now is head of the family?"

"That would be my father, Mr. Nomo Sadalfloury."

"He is not present tonight?"

"He is not a member of this class."

"And what of Suby Sadalfloury who was once so beautiful?"

"You are evidently referring to my sister, Mrs. Suby ver Ahe.
She is present."

"Where is she sitting?"

"At the table yonder, with her husband, and others."

Howard Hardoah swung about and inspected the dark-haired
matron at a table twenty feet away. He rose to his feet and went to
lean over the group. "Suby! Do you recognize me?"

"You are Howard Hardoah, I believe." Suby ver Ahe's voice
was cool.

"I am he. And who are these others?"

"My husband, Paul. My daughters, Mirl and Maud, Mr. and
Mrs. Janust of River Vista, Mr. and Mrs. Gildv of Lake Skooney
and their daughter Halda."

Howard Hardoah acknowledged the introductions and returned
to Suby. "What an event, meeting you again! I am happy now that
I came. Your daughters are as lovely as you were at their age."

Suby's voice was colder than ever. "I am surprised that you
should wish to bring old events to mind."

Paul ver Ahe said, "Astonishing that you should choose to ap-
pear at all!"

Howard Hardoah showed a plaintive smile. "Was I not invited?
Is this not my class and my school?"

Paul ver Ahe said gruffly, "Certain things are best left unsaid."

"Quite true." Howard drew up a chair and seated himself. "If
I may, I'll try a flask of your Ammarv."

"I have not invited you to do so."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 889

"Tush, Paul, don't be mean! Does not your mill grind out ton
after ton of valuable murdock flour?"

"The mill is still in operation. I dispose of the profits as I see
fit."

Howard Hardoah threw back his head and laughed. "A pleasure
to meet you all." He took up Mirl's hand and kissed her fingers.
"Especially you. I have an absolutely unappeasable—insatiable per-
haps is not quite the word—admiration for beautiful girls, and be-
fore the evening is over we must arrange to meet again."

Paul ver Ahe started to rise to his feet, but Howard Hardoah
had already turned away from Mirl. He tilted the flask ofAmmary
to his lips and swallowed the contents at a gulp. "Refreshing!" In
proper style he dropped the empty flask into a basket.

Suby's attention had been distracted. She touched her husband's
arm. "Paul, who are those people?" She pointed to the edge of the
pavilion. There stood three hard-faced men wearing uniforms of
gray and black with black casques. Each carried a short, heavy gun.

Mrs. Janust cried out softly: "They are everywhere! They're all
around us!"

Howard Hardoah said in a negligent voice, "Pay them no heed,
They are part of my entourage. Perhaps I should make an an-
nouncement, to allay curiosity."

Howard Hardoah jumped up on the bandstand. "School chums,
old acquaintances, others, you will notice here and there groups of
what appear to be battle troops. They are, in fact, a squad of my
Companions. Tonight they wear this rather forbidding costume,
which tells us that they are in a somber mood. WTien they wear
yellow, you'll find them jaunty and gay. When they wear white, we
call them 'death dolls.'

"On this occasion, attend their wise counsels, and we'll all enjoy
an evening of fun. Everyone, proceed with the party! Let the rem-
iniscences flow! Jenore Sadalfloury tells me that no entertainments
have been planned. I feared as much, and saw fit to arrange a little
program. Let me talk briefly of myself. Perhaps of everyone at-
tending the dear old school I was most innocent. I laugh now to
think of my illusions. Ah, that dear dreamy lad twenty-five years
gone! At school he discovered a mysterious new world of illicit
pleasures and tantalizing possibilities. But when he tried to explore
and extend himself, he was rebuffed. Nothing went right for him.
He was bullied, abused, taunted, and given an odious nickname:

890 THK DEMON PRINCES

'Fimfle.' Bloy Sadalfloury, I believe, was first to use that expression.
Am I correct in this, Blov?"

Bloy Sadalfloury puffed out his cheeks but made no response.

Howard Hardoah gave his head a slow, marveling shake. "Poor
Howard! The girls treated him little better. Even now I wince at
the slights! Suby Sadalfloury played a particularly heartless game,
which I will not describe. I now invite her charming daughters on
a cruise aboard my ship. We will visit interesting regions of space,
and I assure them that in my company they will not be bored. It is
possible that Suby may be distressed and lonesome, but she should
have considered the possible consequences of her acts twenty-five
years ago, which resulted in my own departure from Giadbetook.

"In sheer point of fact, nothing could have been more to my
advantage. I am now a very rich man. I could buy all Giadbetook
and never notice. Philosophically, I am a far more definite person.
I subscribe to the Doctrine of Cosmic Equilibrium: in simple terms,
for every 'tit' there must be a 'tat.' Now for tonight's program. It
is a little pastiche called 'A Noble Schoolboy's Daydream of Jus-
tice!' How fortunate we are to have on hand many principals to the
seminal circumstances!"

Cornelius van Bouyers, chairman of arrangements, came hur-
rying forward. "Howard! You're talking extravagant folly! You can't
be serious; in fact, you're making fun of us all. Come down at once,
there's a good fellow, and we'll all enjov the evening."

Howard raised a finger. Two Companions led Cornelius van
Bouyers from the pavilion and locked him in the girls' gymnasium
and he was seen no more that night.

Howard Hardoah turned to the orchestra. Gersen, twenty feet
away, hoped that a wide-brimmed hat and a bland expression were
adequate disguise.

Howard Hardoah barely glanced at him. "Director Kutte! It
gives me s-reat pleasure to see you tonight! Do you remember me?"

"Not\vell."

"That is because you flew into a rage with me and snatched
away my fiddle. You said I played like a drunken squirrel."

"Yes, 1 remember the occasion. You used a clumsy vibrato. In
the attempt for sentiment you achieved only larmoyance."

"Interesting. You do not play this style?"

"Decidedly not. Each note should be met justly and precisely,
with an edge to each side."

THE BOOK OF ORMMS S91

"Let me remind you of a musician's truism," said Howard Har-
doah. " 'When you stop going up, you start going down.' You have
never played 'drunken squirrel' style, and it is time that you should
make the essay. In order to play like a 'drunken squirrel,' while you
cannot become a squirrel, at least you can become drunken. Here
we have the necessary essences. Drink, Professor Kuttc, then play!
As you never have played before!"

Director Kutte bowed stiffly and pushed aside the proffered
flasks. "Excuse me, I do not drink ferments or spirits. Teaching
expressly condemns their use."

"Bah! Tonight we throw a blanket over theology, as we might
cover a cantankerous parrot. Let us rejoice! Drink, Professor! Drink
here or outside the pavilion with the Companions."

"I have no taste for drink, but since I am forced . . ." Kutte
threw the contents of a flask down his throat. He coughed. "The
flavor is bitter."

"Yes, that is Bitter Ammary. Here, try Wild Sunlight."

"That is somewhat better. Let me try7 the Blue Tears. . . . Yes.
Tolerable. But quite enough."

Howard Hardoah laughed and clapped Kutte between his nar-
row shoulders, while Gersen watched sadly. So near and yet so tar.
The zumbold player next to him muttered, "The man is insane! If
he comes within reach I'll clap the zumbold over his head; you make
play with the flute and we'll have him helpless in a trice."

By the entrance stood two men: the first short and thick as a
stump, near bald, with a square head and flat features; the second
spare, saturnine, with short thick black hair, hollow cheeks, a long,
pale Jaw and chin. Neither wore a Companion uniform. "See those
two men?" Gersen made a discreet indication. "They are watching
and waiting for just some such foolishness."

"I am not a man to accept humiliation!" growled the zumbold
player.

"Tonight you had better go carefully, or you may not awake to
life tomorrow morning."

Director Kutte ran his hand through his hair. His eyes had
become a trifle glassy and he lurched as he turned to his orchestra.
"Play us a tune," called I loward Hardoah. "Drunken squirrel style,
if you please."

Kutte mumbled to his orchestra: " 'Gypsy Firelight,' in Aeo-
lian."

892 THE DEMON PRINCES

Howard Hardoah listened carefully as the orchestra played,
keeping time with his finger. Presently he called out, "Enough!
Now for the program! It gives me great pleasure to present to-
night's entertainment. It has been germinating for twenty-five
years. Since I am the impresario, and since the themes derive from
my own experiences, the subjective point of view need come as no
surprise.

"Let us begin! Our stage properties are at hand. I roll back the
curtain of time! We are now at school with Howard Hardoah, a
dear lad mistreated by bullies and fickle girls. I recall one such
incident. Maddo Strubbins, I see you yonder; you seem as over-
bearing now as then. Come forward! I wish to recall an incident to
your mind."

Maddo Strubbins glowered and sat back defiantly. The Com-
panions approached. He lurched to his feet and sauntered toward
the bandstand, a tall, burly man with coarse dark hair and heavy
features. He stood looking up at Howard Hardoah with mingled
contempt and uncertainty.

Howard Hardoah spoke in a harsh brassy voice: "How good to
see you after all these years! Do you still play on the quadrangles?"

"No. That is a game for children, striking a ball back and
forth."

"Once, we both thought differently- I went on the court with
my new racquet and ball. You came with Wax Buddle and pushed
me off the courts. You said, 'Cool your arse, Fimfle. You must wait
on your betters.' So you played your game using my ball. Do you
remember? When I protested that I had arrived first, you said: 'Sit
quiet, Fimfle! I can't play my best with you caterwauling in my ear.'
When you had finished, you hit my ball over the fence and it was
lost in the weeds. Do you remember?"

Maddo Strubbins made no reply.

"I have long felt the deprivation of that golden day forever
lost," said Howard Hardoah. "It has hung in my memory: a frus-
tration! The price of the ball itself was fifty centums- My time spent
waiting and hunting for the ball is worth another SVU, to a total
of one and a half SVU. At ten percent interest compounded across
twenty-five years, it is exactly sixteen SVU, twenty-five centums,
and two farthings. Add ten SVU punitive damages for a total, let
us say, of twenty-six SVU. Pay me now."

"I don't carry so much money."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 893

Howard Hardoah instructed his Companions: "Flog him well
for twenty-six minutes, then cut off his ears."

Strubbins said, "Wait a minute. . . . Here is the money." He
paid over coins, then turned and hunched back toward his table.

"Not just yet," said Howard Hardoah. "You have only paid me
for the lost ball. 'Sit quietly,' you said."

The Companions rolled forward a wooden chair-frame on
which rested a block oi ice. They conducted Maddo Strubbins to
the chair, cut away his trousers, sat him on the ice, and strapped
him in place.

"Sit quietly; cool your own arse," said Howard Hardoah. "You
lost my ball and I am tempted to order an excision along your own
ropy scrotum, except that this is a family entertainment. One other
matter. . ." A Companion stepped forward and pressed a contri-
vance against Maddo Strubbins's forehead; he cried out in pain.
When the contrivance was removed the letter F, in heavy purple
block print, remained.

"That is an indelible reminder of the odious nickname 'Fimfle,' "
said Howard Hardoah. "It shall be a memento for anyone I recall
using this term. It was evolved by Bloy Sadalfloury. Let us deal next
with this corpulent scalawag."

Bloy Sadalfloury was stripped naked and tattooed with F's over
his entire body, except across his buttocks, where FLVIFLE was
spelled out in full.

"You are bedizened in style," said Howard Hardoah with crit-
ical approval. "WTiile you are bathing at Lake Skooney and your
friends ask why you are spotted like a leopard, you will respond: 'It
was the fault of my malicious tongue!' Hey, Companions! A clever
elaboration! Stamp his tongue as well!

"So then, who and what is next on the program? Edver Vissy?
Forward, please . . . Remember Angela Dam? A pretty little girl
from the lower grades? I admired Angela with all the fervor of my
romantic heart. One day as I stood talking to her, you came along
and pushed me aside. You said, 'Run along, Fimfle. Just pick a
direction; .Angela and I will go the other way.' I have puzzled over
this command long and often. 'Run along.' Along what? The road?
An imaginary line? A long way?" Howard Hardoah's voice became
nasal and pedantic. "In this special case, we will simplify and imag-
ine a course around the pavilion. You will run 'a long way' 'along'
this course, and we will learn where emphasis ties. Four blackguard

894 THE DEMON PRINCF.S

dogs will chase you and gnaw your legs should you tarry. Hurrah
then, Edver! Let us watch a fleet pair of heels as you 'run along.'
A pity that little Angela is not here to enjoy the evening."

The Companions took Edver Vissy to the course and set him
running, with four squat hounds lurching and snarling behind him.

The zumbold player muttered to Gersen, "Have you ever seen
the like? The man is mad, to play such spiteful tricks!"

"Take care," said Gersen. "He hears whispers ten minutes old
and half a mile away. So far his acts are almost benign; he is in a
good mood."

"I hope never to see him in a rage."

The program proceeded, as, one by one, Howard Hardoah ad-
justed strains and imbalances in the cosmic equilibrium.

Olympe Omsted had arranged to meet Howard at the Blinnick
Pond Picnic Grounds. Howard had trudged ten miles and had
waited four hours, only to see Olympe arrive in company with Gard
Thornbloom. "You will now be conveyed to a far place," Howard
told Olympe. "You will wait eight hours, until morning, then walk
twenty miles to the Wiggal River. That you may forever remember
this occasion, I have arranged a further penalty." Olympe was
stripped nude to the waist; one breast was stained bright red, the
other an equally intense blue, and for good measure a purple F was
stamped on her belly. "Excellent!" declared Howard Hardoah. "In
the future you will find it more difficult to beguile and deceive
trusting young boys."

While Howard gave his attention to Leopold Friss, Olympe was
led from the pavilion, and carried off through the night. Leopold
had instructed young Howard to "Kiss his arse." Six pigs were
brought before Leopold, and he was obliged to kiss each appropri-
ately.

Hippolita Fawer, who had slapped Howard's face on the front
steps of the school, was spanked by two Companions, while Pro-
fessor Kutte played a threnody in time with her outcries.

Professor Kutte, now loose in the knees, found difficulty in
applying bow to strings. Howard Hardoah seized the fiddle in dis-
gust. "I have drunk five times as much as you!" he told Kutte. "You
boast of musical competence, yet you cannot play while drunk! For
shame! I shall play the tune properly." He signaled the Companions
who set about spanking Hippolita, who resumed her cries while
Howard played the fiddle. He began to dance as he played, lifting

THE ROOK OF DRK4MS 895

one of his long legs, thrusting it high and forward and giving a little
kick, then prancing forward, knees bent, meanwhile playing with
rapt face and half-closed eyes.

The zumbold player said dubiously to Gersen: "Truth to tell,
he plays in fine style. ... A sure touch there; notice how justly he
accents the woman's outcries. I am tempted to shout 'bravo.' "

"He would be pleased," said Gersen. "On the whole it is prob-
ably best not to call attention to yourself."

"I am sure that you are right."

The tune came to an end and Hippolita returned in dishevel-
ment to her table. Howard Hardoah was in the mood for music.
He faced the orchestra. "All together now, with zest, rare tones,
and precise execution: 'Pettyville Pleasures.' Parnassian Mode."

Gersen nudged the zumbold player. "Which flute?"

"With the brass flange."

Howard Hardoah stamped his foot; the tune began. After one
rendition, Howard called a halt. "Fair, only fair! More bite with
the cornet! You on wood-pipe! Whv do vou not play the traditional
solo?"

Gersen showed a moony grin. "Fm not that sure of the part,
sir."

"Then you should practice your instrument'"

"I give my all, sir."

"Once again, lively now!"

The tune was played, with Howard Hardoah performing his
absurd capering dance.

Abruptly he stopped, stamped his feet, raised his hands on high,
brandishing fiddle and bow in outrage. "You, on the wood-pipe!
Why do you not play as you should? Why this preposterous pip-
pup-pup, pip-pup-pup?"

"W^ell, sir, truth be told, it is how 1 learned the instrument."

Howard Hardoah clutched his head, deranged his hat in a
frenzy of impatience. "You exasperate me to distraction, with your
pip-pup-pup! Also your foolish leering face. Companions! Seize this
mooncalf, take him down to the river, and throw him away! Mu-
sicians of his sort the world is better without."

The Companions seized Gersen, draped him from the plat-
form. Howard addressed the audience. "You are witnessing an im-
portant event. The population is divided into three classes: first,
fastidious persons of discrimination and taste; second, the vulgar

896 1 HF DEMON PRINCES

masses, exemplihed by yourselves, and third, a few wretched par-
venus who mimic the style of their betters, as m the case of this
wood-pipe player His sort must be discouraged' Now—on with
the music All who wish may dance "

Two Companions frog-marched Gersen across the pavilion and
down the slope toward the river. A third strolled negligently behind
Nothing could have been more to Gersen's satisfaction Down the
steps to the boat dock they marched, and out to the far end, where
the fairy lamps reflected in jerks and jiggles on the dark water.

The Companions seized Gersen by the arms and the seat of
the pants Gersen hung supine and limp. "It's to be one, two, three
and on your way' So, here we go'"

"Here we go," said Gersen He swiveled, broke holds, struck
the man on his left a fearful blow in the neck, crushing his larynx.
He struck the other across the temple with his fist and felt the crush
of bone Turning at a crouch he flung himself against the knees of
the third man, who staggered, swayed, lurched backward, clawing
at his side arm Gersen caught him in a clamp, flung him face down,
planted his knees on the heavy shoulders, reached down into the
man's mouth, jerked up and back and snapped the man's neck

Panting, Gersen rose to his feet In less than thirty seconds he
had killed three men Gersen took up one of the long-guns, a pistol,
a pair of daggers, then rolled the bodies into the river

He started back toward the pavilion The music had halted The
Companions, coordinated by radio-communicator, by one means
or another had been notified of trouble at the riverside

Gersen glimpsed a dozen Companions running at a crouch
from the pavilion Howard Alan Treesong stood on the bandstand,
scowling in his direction Gersen raised the long-gun, aimed, fired
a round )ust as Howard Treesong )umped from the bandstand He
whirled in midair, struck m the shoulder Gersen fired again, and
struck Howard Treesong in the groin, spinning him around again
He fell to the floor of the pavilion and out of Gersen's range of

vision

Gersen hesitated, leaning back and forth, almost irresistibly
urged to rush forward and make sure of Howard Treesong's death

Danger was too close If How ard Treesong were only w ounded,
as seemed likelv, and Gersen were captured, it would be a grisly
business He could wait no longer Dodging into the shade of the
larch trees, he ran around the pavilion to the driveway, where he

I HE BOOK OF DRK4MS 89'

crouched among the parked \ehicles Three Companions ran along
the front of the pavilion, Gersen aimed, hred once, twice, three
times, and three bodies tumbled to the ground

Gersen gingerly rose to his feet and craned his neck, hoping
for another shot at Treesong

Danger hung heav\ Death was imminent Gersen retreated to
the road, crossed and took refuge m a copse of some dank local
growth A giant shape blotting out the stars descended upon the
pavilion Searchlights suddenly illuminated the entire area    Ger-
sen decided to wait no longer, infrared scanners would soon be
combing the landscape He ran to the riverside, lowered himself
into the water, and floated away to the north, secure from infrared
detection

He swam across the river and emerged a quarter mile down-
stream He climbed the bank, sodden as a muskrat, and stood sur-
veying the scene to the south    Failure once more Bitter, galling
failure For the second time he had been offered a shot at his
quarry, for the second time he had inflicted onl\ a wound

Tenders drifted down from the ship and a moment later re-
turned .The floodlights were extinguished, the ship, now a black
mass picked out by lines of illuminated ports, rose to an altitude of
a thousand feet and hovered

Within the ship, Treesong's brain would not be inactive The
alarm had emanated from the dock, where the Companions had
taken the inept musician Who was this musician whom Professor
Kutte had allowed to play in his orchestra5 Obviously, the question
would be put to Kutte, who would briskly tell all he knew the
musician was an offworlder \vho wished to be present at the re-
union

An offworlder^ He must be captured, without fail Inquiry
quickly would be made at inns, towns, transport agencies, space-
ports At Theobald Spaceport, the Flittering would be noticed,
boarded The registration, in the name ofKirth Gersen, would duly
be recorded and made known to Howard I reesong Gersen grim-
aced I Ie climbed the bank and trotted north to Glocher Wa\, then
west beside the cemetery The dead of Gladbetook, uncannil\ sen
tient m the starlight, watched him pass

\t the main street Gersen hesitated a moment, thinking of the
runabout, but Professor Kutte represented the greater urgency and
he continued along Glocher Wa\ to Kutte's house

898 rHP DP MON PRINCES

Light glowed from the front windows. Keeping to the deepest
shadows Gersen approached the house. Valdemar Kutte, in a ma-
roon dressing gown, paced back and forth, holding a towel to his
forehead. So far, thought Gersen, so good, the normalcy of the
scene made him wonder as to the accuracy of his projections The
spaceship might already have departed, with the idiot musician re-
maining as an unsolved, if trivial, mystery. .. . Nevertheless Gersen
decided to wait Behind a hedge he found concealment and settled
himself.

Minutes passed, five, ten.

The street remained quiet. Gersen stirred fretfully. He looked
around the sky, to find only stars and strange constellations. He
heaved a sigh, adjusted his position, his clothes still damp.

A faint sound from above. Gersen became instantly alert. Again'
Imminence'

Down from the sky drifted a small airboat. Soft as a shadow it
dropped to a landing in the street, ten yards from Gersen's hiding
place. Three men stepped to the ground, dark shapes m the star-
shine. For a moment they stood in muttered conversation, evidently
making sure ofKutte's house.

Gersen ran crouching behind the hedge, circled Kutte's hy-
drangea hushes, and waited behind the gatepost.

Inside the house Valdemar Kutte, in a posture of outrage and
indignation, complained of the night's events to a small plump
woman who listened aghast.

Two men came along the avenue. They turned into Professor
Kutte's yard. Gersen hit one upon the forehead with an iron garden
ornament, grappled the other and stabbed him to the heart.

There had been no sound. Within the house Professor Kutte
continued as before, striding back and forth, nourishing his hands,
pausing to emphasize some particularly heinous episode.

Gersen crept back behind the hedge to his former post. The
third man stood leaning against the skycar. Gersen stepped quietly
into the street behind him. Striking hard with the dagger, he cut
the man's spinal cord.

Into the back ot the skycar Gersen tumbled the three corpses.
He took the vehicle aloft, floated across Gladbetook, now dark and
shuttered tor the night, and settled into the yard behind Swecher's
Inn. He went quietly to his room, changed gratefully into his or-
dinary clothes, tucked The Book of Df earns into his pocket. Returning

THI' BOOK OFDREW^ 899

to the skvcar, he rose into the ni^ht and flew south toward 'I heo-
bald.

Over the Oalglish River he lowered the skycar, (ettisoned the
three Companions, then continued south.

The scattered lights of Theobald presenti} appeared below
Red and blue twmklers marked the outlines of the spaceport.

Unnoticed and unchallenged, Gersen landed the skycar beside
his Fantarnn Flitteiii'mg He went aboard and started up the flight
systems.

He considered the sky'car. If Howard Treesong found it here,
near the spot vacated by a Fantamic Fhttei-ivmg^ he would drawr the
natural and obvious conclusion. The depot official would supply
him the Flittet-wmg's registration codes, the trail would lead directly
to Kirth Gersen, care of Jehan Addels, Pontefract, Alovsms . ..
Gersen overrode the safety latch, set the controls, and let the skycar
fly off into the night.

He returned into the Flitta-ning, sealed the ports, and left the
Land ofLelander below .   \t an altitude often miles he hovered
and searched the sky. Neither macroscope, nor radar, nor xenode
detector discovered any trace ofTreeson^'s ship, which was )ust as
well, since the Flittef-wmg lacked armament

Gersen flew into the far north and landed on an expanse ot
desolate tundra, safe from Treesong's detectors, should anyone
think to deploy them.

Silence and starlight on the waste outside the observation ports
Gersen consumed a bowl of goulash and sat slumped in his chair,
profoundly tired hut prevented from sleep by a flux of queer moods.
nervous excitement slowly waning, disappointment for his failure
to kill Howard Treesong, contradicted by a grim satisfaction for
the damage he had done, which would cause Treesong inconve-
nience, anger, fear, uncertainty, and pain not a bad evening's work.
The events themselves—they could only be comprehended in terms
of Howard Treesong's personality. . . . Taking up The Book of
Dreamy Gersen began to study the contents. He was too tired to
persist. . . He went to his couch and soon slept.

14

In the morning Gersen went out to drink a cup of tea in the

slanting sunlight. The air carried a smoky reek of fust, mud, and
aeons of slow-decaying vegetation. Low hills huddled across the
southern horizon; elsewhere a plain, half tundra, half bog, extended
as far as the eye could see. Gray-green lichen covered the ground,
punctuated by starved clumps of sedge and small black plantains
with scarlet berries. The reunion at Gladbetook School seemed far
distant in both space and time.

Gersen went into the saloon and drew another cup of tea. Sit-
ting on the top step of the exit port, in the wan light of Van Kaa-
the's Star, he once more set himself to an examination of The Book
of Dreams.

The tea grew cold. Gersen read, page after page, and came at
last to where young Howard had stopped his writing almost in
midsentence.

Gersen put the book down and looked off across the distance.
Once, Howard Hardoah had treasured this book. For Howard Alan
Treesong it would represent a memento of the sweet sad days of
his youth. And far more: it denned his being; it was precious beyond
calculation. Suppose he were now to learn of its existence? . ..
There were dozens of permutations to the situation. Howard be-
lieved that the book had been taken from him by his friend Nimpy
Cleadhoe. An all-important question: where now was Nimpy
Cleadhoe?

Gersen sat thinking: of young Howard Hardoah, frail, tentative,
sensitive; of Howard Alan Treesong, strong, radiant with confi-
dence, pulsing with vitality. Picking up The Book of Dreams, Gersen
thought to feel from the faded red cover a quiver of similar life. ...

THE BOOK OF DRK-^MS 901

On first reading, the book had seemed a rather formless pastiche.
There were personal assertions, colloquies between seven paladins,
twelve cantos of narrative verse. A late chapter revealed the lan-
guage Naomei, known only to the seven paladins, and included a
syllabary of 350 characters, by which Naomei might properly be
transcribed. Before young Howard had fully developed Naomei, the
book came to its abrupt ending.

The book apparently had occupied Howard for a period of
years. The initial manifesto occupied a page and a half: a statement
in which a sympathetic ear might find much that was vivid and
compelling, whereas a cynical spirit would hear only callow bom-
bast. So much, thought Gersen, might be said for the entire book;

final Judgment could only rest upon how closely achievement
matched youthful fantasy. In this light the term "callow bombast"
must be discarded. Feeble understatement, thought Gersen, was a
more appropriate phrase.

The book began:

I am Howard Alan Treesong. I profess no fealty to the
Hardoah ilk; T expect none. That my birth occurred
through the agency of Adrian and Reba Hardoah is an in-
cident over which I lacked control. I prefer to claim my
substance elsewhere: from brown soil like that which I now
clutch in my hand, from gray rain and moaning wind, from
radiance discharged by the magic star Meamone. My stuff
has been impregnated with ten colors, of which five are
found in the flowers of Uahane Forest and five may be
struck from the Meamone scintilla.

Such is the stuff of mv being.

For ilkness I claim the line ofDemabia Hathkens,' spe-
cifically from his union with Princess Gisseth of Treesong
Keep, from which came Searl Treesong, Knight of the
Flaming Spear.

My vistgeist2 is known by a name of secret magic.

1 Protagonist of ,1 heroic c\ cle of folktales from Vhc IScham Fjuliot, a iL.oltei.tion of sagas
and fain tales atlmowledged glani: mglv and pamfull\ h\ Teaching

2 \ term from the |argon of Teaching essentially, the idealized \ersion of one's self
Teaching defines the ustgeist rather narruuK and e\horts die individual to a lifelong
attempt to match the beatitude of die ustgeist Howard, for vistgeist, formulated an entiti
totalh emancipated from the strictures ot Teaching

902 THE DEMON PRINCES

This name is IMMIR.

May sullen rays from the dark star beside Meamone
strike liver and lights of him who utters this name to scorn.

To the following page was attached a drawing worked by an
unskilled hand yet infused with ardor and an earnest directness.
Depicted was a naked boy standing in front of a naked young man,
the boy stalwart and determined, with a bright intelligent gaze; the
young man somewhat insubstantial but effulgent with a nameless
quality compounded of daring, ardor, magical wonder.

This, thought Gersen, was young Howard's concept of himself
and his vistgetst Immir.

The next page listed a set of aphorisms, some legible, others so
erased and altered as to be unintelligible:

IN COUNTERMANDS OUT.

Problems are like the trees of Bleadstone Woods; there
is always a way between.

I am a thing sublime. I believe. I surge, and it is done.
I defeat heroes; I woo fair girls; I swim warm with glorious
longing for the ineffable. With my ardent urge I outstrip
time and think the unthinkable. I know a secret force. It
comes from within, exerting irresistible thrust. It partakes
of all gaiety, of the striding gallantry of the beautiful Tat-
tenbarth nymphs, of the soul's conquest over infinity. This
is VLON, which may be revealed to no one. Here is the
secret symbol:

THE BOOK 01^ DRFAMS

I love Glaide with the blond curls. She lives in dream-
ing, as an anemone lives in cool water. She is not aware
that I am I. I wish 1 knew the way into her soul. I wish I
knew the magic to join our dream-ways. If I only could talk
to her by starlight, afloat on quiet waters.

I can see the outlines; there are ways to control the
beast. But I have much to learn. Fear, panic, terror: they
are like wild giants who must be conquered and enslaved
to my service. It shall be done. Wherever I g-o they will
follow at my heels, unseen and unknown until I command.

Glaide!

I know she must be aware.

Glaide!

904 THE DEMON PRINCES

She is made from starlight and flower dust; she breathes
the memory of midnight music.
I wonder I wonder I wonder.

Today I showed her the Sign, casually, as if it were of
no importance. She saw it; she looked at me But she spoke
no word.

(The next few passages bore traces of erasure with passages
overwritten in a stronger hand.)

What is power? It is the means to realize wants and wishes.
To me, power has become a necessity; in itself it is a virtue
and balm sweet as a girl's kiss, and—similarly—it is there
to be taken.

I am alone. Enemies and hurlibuts surround me, and
stare with mad eyes. They flaunt their insolent haunches as
they pass by on the run.

Glaide, Glaide, why did you do so? You are deprived
to me, you are soiled and spoiled. 0 sweet soiled Glaide!
You shall know regret and remorse; you shall sing songs of
woe, to no avail. As for the dogskm Tupper Sadalfloury, I
shall take him in the amber gondola to Slaymarket Isle and
give him to the Moals.

But it is time to think beyond.

The text passed over a page, to resume in ink of heavy purple-
black. The hand seemed more firm, the characters more regularly
formed. The next passage was headed:

M/WI RICS

The accumulation of power is a self-sustaining process.
The first accretion is slow, but increases according to di-
rection.' First, the requisite steps These are an equable and
careless fare, where nothing is revealed. During this phase
all strictures are methodically discarded. Discipline in itself
is not a corrupt concept, only discipline that is imposed

1   Direcuon" evidently signifies "personal control,' ' personal manipulation "

I HE BOOK OF DRL.4M^ 905

rather than self-calculated. Emancipation, then, is first
from Teaching, from duty, h-om setter emotions, which
loosen the power of decision.

(An evident lapse of time, perhaps several months. The ensuing
hand was tall, spiky, angular, and exuded an almost palpable en-
ergy.)

A new girl has come to town!

Her name is Zada Memar

Zada Memar.

To think of her brings a blur of enthrallment across the
brain.

She moves in a cosmos other own, colored by her own
colors and urged by her own fascinating ardors' How can
I )om my cosmos to hers^ How can I share our secrets^^
How can we merge ourselves into a unity of body and soul
and ardo^

I wonder if she knows me as I know her?

There followed several pages of extravagant speculations upon
Destiny and circumstances subsequent to a chance meeting between
himself and Zada Memar.

The next passage consisted of passionate apostrophes addressed
to the inner consciousness of Zada Memar. There was no explicit
clue as to the progress or outcome of the love affair, except in the
termination of the passage a wild burst ot emotion directed against
the environment in which Howard Hardoah found himself

Enemies surround me, they stare at me with mad eyes,
walking or loping past, or veering as if blown on the wind,
they flaunt their insolent challenges I see them through
several minds, as is useful.

The time is Now [ call on Imnur
Immir' To the tore'

\ blank page, and a division in The Book ofDfiW?i\ For want
of better terms, the foregoing could be designated Part One. Part

906 THE DEMON PRINCES

Two was indited in a firm round hand. The rasping fervor or pre-
vious passages seemed under strong control.

The apparent continuity between the final line of Part One and
the first line of Part Two would seem to be misleading.

Upon that place made sacred to myself I bled my blood, I
made the sign. I spoke the word, I called on Immir, and he

came.

I said, Immir, the time is Now. Stand together with me.
Assuredly. We are one.

Now we must set about our affairs. Let us form our com-
pany, so that each is known to each, mighty paladins all.

So it shall be. Come, stand in the ray from Meamone and
by their redolent colors let them be known.

The ray struck down upon the black gem, so that a person
of black splendor appeared; he and Immir embraced like
boon companions of old.

Here is the first paladin; he is Jena Rais the Wise, and far
of vision. He reckons eventualities and counsels the nec-
essary, without weakness, pity, ruth, or clemency.

I give you welcome, noble paladin.

To Meamone's ray Immir showed the red gem, and a per-
son wearing crimson amphruscules1 joined the three.

Here stands Lons Hohenger the red paladin. He knows and
works the executive arts. Without effort he does deeds won-
drous to the ordinary man. He is a stranger to fear. He
cries: Ah ha ha! when the falbards are raised for combat.

Loris, I accept you as my red paladin, and I promise you
feats and forays to surpass any which have gone before.

That is i?ood to hear.
Immir, who now will Join us?

1 \mphrusculcs the en.imeled tablet-- forming die shoulder insignia .md chest medallion
ot a Trelancthun Lmghl

THE BOOK OF DRE4MS

Immir used the green gem, and one wearing the green gar-
ments of an Idaspian grandee stepped to the fore. Tall and
grave he stood with hair like midnight and eyes blazing
green.

Here is Mewness, who upholds the Green: an extraordinary
paladin, supple, strange, and eerie in his manner of mind.
He conducts the madcap exploits, he performs that which
is direly unexpected. He owns to no more qualms than a
lizard and makes no explanation to friend or foe. He has
no peer in riddling mazes and also he is a most talented
musician, proficient in the several modes.

Green Mewness, will you join us as a paladin?
With great joy, and forever.
Excellent! Immir, who now?

Immir found a fine topaz and cherished it under Meamone,
and so appeared a person wearing a black halpern fetched
with a yellow plume, yellow boots, and gauntlets. Strung
over his back he carried a lute. Immir gave him greeting
and named him Spangleway the Antic.

We are fortunate indeed; here is merry Spangleway the An-
tic, to relieve us when the way is weary. In battle he is wily
and master of terrifying artifice; only Mewness can match
him for his cunning ploys and startling displays.

Immir, who else do we command?

I hold this sapphire to Meamone; I call on Rhune Fader
the Blue!

A person slender and strong, as blithe and winsome as the
sunny sky of memory, stepped forward.

Here is our gay Rhune, fair and strong and ignorant both
of despair and defeat! Sometimes he is known as Rhune the
Gentle, still he strikes hard, deep, and often, but never in
harsh rage, and he allows his captives easy repentance.

Rhune Fader, we welcome you; will you join us?

90S lilt DPMON PRINCES

All the winds and thunders, all the energetics of war, all the
ploys and plots of cunning cowards none could hold me
apart.

Then you are our sworn paladin

Immir, who else^ Are there more to add to this marvelous
troop;

One more, a person to make out the whole.

Immir held high a white crystal. I call for Eia Pamce the
White!

A person appeared wearing a black cape over body armor
of white sequins. His face was pallid and without humor,
his cheeks were hollow and his eyes showed like glimpses
of pale fire

Immir spoke: Eia, as fearsome to enemies as death itself,
speaks little. His deeds tell their own tale and terror trem-
bles in his wake. Re)oice, paladins, that Eia is one of us; as
foe he is redoubtable.

Eia Panice, I greet you and make you my brother paladin,
and we shall venture through many circumstances.

That is my hope.

Immir spoke: So then, the gallant seven' Let all advance
and clasp hands and may the bond be broken only by sorry

death'

All averred, and so was formed the noble troop, destined to
perform deeds and feats to surpass all those of yore or
hence.

On the next pages the young Howard had attempted portraits
of the Seven, with much evidence of painful reworking. The
sketches terminated Part Two of the hook.

There followed several pages of notes and memoranda, a few
written in the Naornei syllabar) Howard apparently tired of the
exertion and continued in ordinary language.

A list of descriptive titles appeared-

THE BOOK OF DRE.4MS 909

1. The Adventure at Tuarech

2 The Duel with the Sarsen Ebratan Champions

3 The Coming of Zada

4. The Insolent Pride of King Weper

5. Zada Forlorn

6. The Castle Haround

7. The Wooing of Zada Memar

8 The Seven Weirds of Haltenhorst

9. The Adventure at the Green Star Inn

10. The Great Games at Woon W^indway

11. The Dungeons ofMourne

12. Paladins Triumphant!

Whatever text Howard Hardoah had planned for the twelve
titles was not included in the book, except for excerpts and frag-
ments which occupied the pages following;, then, abruptly, two-
thirds of the way through the book, almost in midsentence, there
was no more writing.

Gersen put the book down He descended to the tundra and
paced back and forth beside the Flittef-wmg All could yet go well.
There had been failure at Voymont, and likewise at Gladbetook,
but The Book of Dreams might permit a third opportunity—if he
used it correctly To any obvious bait, Howard Treesong, twice
wounded, would react wath hypersensitive suspicion.

The problem, then, was to deploy the bait where it would be
perceived as something otherwise.

Gersen halted and stood looking gloomily south. Before plans
could be formed, he must return once more to Gladbetook.

The proscriptions m regard to Maumsh airspace no longer troubled
Gersen, clearly no one made the slightest attempt at enforcement.
About the hour of noon he dropped the Flittefwing down from
behind a low cloud and into the woodland at the back of Hardoah's
Home Farm Mindful of previous frustrations, he armed himself
with care, then sealed his ship and walked to the edge of the open
land. To his right spread a large pond, to his left that strip of land
formerly worked by the Cleadhoes. As Gersen approached Home
Farm, Ledesmus Hardoah left the barn with a bucket of feed which
he tossed into the fowl run, and then returned into the barn.
Gersen went to the door of the farmhouse and knocked.

910 THE DEMON PRINCES

The door slid back to reveal the gaunt figure of Reba Hardoah.
She looked Gersen up and down with a blank expression.

Gersen greeted her politely. "Today I'm here on business, I'm
afraid. I need just a bit more information. Naturally, I'm quite will-
ing to pay for taking your time."

Reba Hardoah spoke in a nervous rush of words: "Mr. Hardoah
isn't here at the moment. He has gone into the village."

Ledesmus, emerging from the barn, saw Gersen. He put down
his bucket and ambled across the yard. "So you're back, eh? Did
you hear the news about Howard?"

"News? What news?"

Ledesmus guffawed and wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand. "Maybe I shouldn't laugh, but that crazy Howard come to
the school meeting with a gang of thugs and made everyone jump
through a hoop. Settled all his old scores, did Howard."

"Terrible, terrible," keened Reba Hardoah. "He insulted the
van Bouyers and struck Bloy Sadalfloury and acted a great cruel
villain. We've been properly shamed by a graceless son."

"Now there, lady," said Ledesmus, "it's nothing to pine over.
Truth to tell, it gives me to laugh when I think of it. That Howard
now, who'd have thought he'd turn out such a scarper?"

"It's a disgrace!" cried Reba. "Your father even now is trying
to make amends."

"He's much too upright," said Ledesmus. "Howard is nothing
to do with us."

"That's my point of view," said Gersen. "Still, it's a pity that
he brought you such bad notoriety."

"When I go to Teaching House, I'll never know where to
look," said Reba Hardoah.

"Just stare them down," Ledesmus told her. "Specify that if
they don't behave you'll complain to Howard. That should shut a
mouth or two."

"What an insane idea! But give this gentleman his information;

he's willing to pay for it."

"Indeed? WTiat is it this time?"

"Nothing of consequence. You mentioned one of Howard's
friends, Nimpy Cleadhoe."

"Certainly. So then?"

"WTiat happened to Nimpy? WTiere is he now?"

Ledesmus frowned and looked across the field to a dismal little

THE BOOK OF DRE4MS 911

house under a pair of straggling ginsaps. "Those Cleadhoes were
always queer folk, offworlder stock. Old Cleadhoe was queerest of
all; in fact he was marmelixer for Fluter Township. I don't remem-
ber all so clearly, but they didn't take kindly to Howard fighting
on Nimpy and accusing him of stealing his book; and the lady, Mrs.
Cleadhoe, come over to complain to father, who had words with
Howard, and Howard went away to make his career, and succeeded,
as we have seen."

"Ledesmus, don't say so! It's shame on us for his awful deeds!"

Ledesmus only laughed. "I wish I'd been to see it all. Think of
Maddo Strubbins with his hind parts on ice! That's rich, now!"

Gersen asked, "And what of Nimpy?"

"The Cleadhoes left, and that's all we saw of them."

"Where did they go?"

"They told me naught." He looked to his mother. "What of
you?"

"They went back whence they came." Reba Hardoah jerked
her thumb toward the sky. "Offworld. When'the old Cleadhoes
died, they called for their offworld kin to inherit the land, so the
new Cleadhoes arrived. That was before you were born. We had
little to do with them, and we can't be blamed, considering the
man's calling."

"Town eviscerator and marmelizer." Ledesmus spoke with dis-
gust.

Reba Hardoah hunched her bony shoulders and shuddered. "It
comes to us all, Teaching or no. Still, who'd be marmelizer but
someone low-caste, or offworld?"

Into the house came Adrian Hardoah. He stopped short at the
sight of Gersen and stared suspiciously from face to face. "What's
all this? Something to do with Howard again?"

"Not this time, sir," said Gersen. "We were discussing your
old neighbors, the Cleadhoes."

Hardoah grunted and flung his hat upon the settee. "Bad stock,
those folk. Never did well, never bred true. A boon that they're
gone."

"I wonder where they went."

"WTw knows? Off-planet, at least."

Reba spoke. "Don't you remember? Old Otho said he was go-
ing back where he came from."

"Yes, something of the sort."

912 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Where could that be?" asked Gersen.

Hardoah gave him an unfriendly glance. "The Hardoahs are
the lineage or Didram Fluter. I am Instructor at the College; my
mother was a Bistwider; my father's mother was a Dwint of the
nineteenth generation. Otho Cleadhoe was public eviscerator, who
turned a flat ear to Teaching. Am I then to be his crony?"

"Definitely not."

Adrian Hardoah gave a gloomy nod. "Go look at the marmels.
The first Cleadhoe stands proudfast. His plaque tells of his birth."

"Correct and exact!" cried Ledesmus. "Trust Father for wis-
dom; he's never failed yet!"

Ledesmus and Gersen drove into town in the Hardoah's old power-
wagon. Along the way Ledesmus discussed Howard's exploits at the
school reunion. His chortles of amusement indicated neither shame
nor remorse for Howard's outrageous deeds.

Ledesmus halted the wagon beside the church and led the way
into the cemetery, threading the dead convocations with the ease
of long acquaintance. "The Hardoahs and our other ilk are yonder.
Over here stands the dross—outworlders and persons of poor rep-
utation."

The time was late afternoon. In the low light the two moved
among the shadowed figures. Plaques bespoke their names to those
who after the passage of years might have forgotten them. Kassideh
. . . Hornblath . . . Dadendorf. . . Lup . . . Cleadhoe . . .

Gersen pointed. "Here's one of them."

"That's one of the old ladies. Here's Luke Cleadhoe; he'll be
the first, and there's your answer: 'Born on Bethune Preserve, out
in the Crow, a far world lost to the goodness of Teaching. In his
youth a notable outrider, by diligence he earned to the post of
disease monitor to the wild beasts, then to First Apprentice Taxi-
dermist. Arriving at Gladbetook, he diligently worked the farmlands
and nurtured a family of several souls, all sadly impervious to the
truths of Teaching.' So there you have it," said Ledesmus in tri-
umph-

As they walked back through the cemetery toward the church,
Gersen chanced to notice the marmel of a voung girl. She stood
straight, head turned a trifle to the side as if she were listening for
a far sound, a voice or a bird call. She wore a simple gown; her
head and feet were bare. Her plaque read: Zada Memar, unfortunate

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

913

child, taken from her loving family almost before her first bloom. Woe
and alas for this poor maiden!

Gersen called Ledesmus's attention to the marmel. "Do you
remember her?"

"Yes indeed! At the school outing she wandered off into the
woods and they found her in Persimmon Lake. A pretty thing she
was!"

The sun had set low behind the line of deodars; the marmels
stood in gloom.

Ledesmus said suddenly: "Time to move along! Here's no place
to loiter after dark."

15

From The Avatar's Apprentice, in Scroll from the Ninth
Dimension •

Surrounding the pedestal: a low mound, agglomerated
from the shards of false effigies across a hundred centuries.
The latest of these, in the likeness ofBermssus, lay toppled,
with one mighty leg thrust high. Marmaduke, standing to
the side in a robe of brown frowst, was moved to a tear of
sad recollection.

Now the effigy of Holy Mungol was brought forward
and raised on high, to be exalted by the throng.

The Warkeep of Gortland climbed to the plinth. He
raised his arms and called out in a brazen voice: "Victory—
at last and forever' Mungol stands on high; the holy and
the true guard our land! For all eternity so it will be' Let
there be )oy'"

The host responded with jubilation, uttering deep-
throated shouts and dancing m circles. The Wind Lords
struck their shields with mailed fists; the Bracha skirled
their noblest tunes. Arrayed in glistening mists the Pru-
desses rang bells and made signs, the Little Wefkms re-
joiced.

Again spoke the Warkeep. "All is complete! The par-
apets are guarded by our mighty Vencedors; Bernissus is
less than nothing: the remembered smell of a latrine in a
diseased leper's nightmare'

"But of the past no more' Holy Mungol stands on high
and casts his sublime gaze across eternity. Let each take up

FHE BOOK OF DRK4MS

his loot and march in glory to his home' Blue Men to the
east; Green Men to the west. I with my Cantarurces fare
north!"

The host gave a final glad cry and dispersed, each
marching his preferred way. A single group of seven persons
set off to the south across Maudly Waste, toward Sesset.
They were: Chathres, a flat-faced lumpkin with burly shoul-
ders and a lewd tongue; three Lygons Ordinary: Shalmar,
Bahuq, and Amaretto, Implissimus, Knight of the Blue Ker-
lanth; Rorback the glutton, and Marmaduke. It was an ill-
assorted troop and a surly one, for none had taken loot.

Faring across the waste they encountered a train of
three wagons laden with the plunder of Molander Abbey.
The commander was Herman the one-eyed vagabond. He
and his henchmen were given short shrift, and the band set
about dividing the spoils.

In the front wagon Marmaduke discovered the delight-
ful Sufnt, who had caused him such heartache at the Grand
Masque. To Marmaduke's dismay Chathres insisted that
Sufnt be considered a segment of his plunder, and his ar-
guments won the day.

With sly forethought Chathres told Marmaduke:

"Since you have expressed dissatisfaction with the arrange-
ments, divide the spoils as you will, into seven lots, and each
shall choose that lot which suits him best."

"What is the order of choosing^"

"The order is determined by lot."

Marmaduke set about dividing the booty. Sufnt whis-
pered into his ear. "You have been tricked. The lots will
determine who chooses first, but you must choose last, as
you are arranging the division, presumably, into parts of
equal value."

Marmaduke uttered a cry of consternation. Sufnt said.
"Listen then! Place me in one lot, alone. Divide all treasure
into five lots. Into the last lot place Herman's three iron
keys, his shoes, his drum, and other valueless oddments.
These naturally will fall to you Make sure you keep the
keys, but abandon all else "

Marmaduke did as he was bid. By trickery the salacious
Chathres won first choice and with a grand flourish took

I HP DF \10N PRINCES

Sufnt for his own. The others chose lots of gold and gems,
and Marmaduke was left the oddments

Suddenly it was discovered that the draft beasts had es-
caped and, worse, that all the water bags had been slashed
with a knife and hung empty.

Furious talk was heard and accusations were exchanged.
"How can we reach Sesset, w^ich lies five days hence across
the burning waste5" cried Chathres.

"No matter," said Sufnt. "I know of a fountain not far
to the south. We will reach it by sunset."

Grumbling and already thirsty, the band took up the
loot and staggered to the south. At dusk they came to a
fertile garden surrounded by a high iron w^ll which none
could scale by reason of poison spikes A single postern
afforded entrance, which one of Marmaduke's keys con-
trolled.

"What luck'" cried Chathres. "Marmaduke's foresight
has helped us all'"

"Not so fast," said Marmaduke "I demand a fee for the
use of my key. From each of you I will take your best
jewel."

"I have no jewels!" cried Chathres. "Must I then re-
main outside to become prey to wild animals5"

"What can you offer5"

"I have only my sword, my garments, and my slave girl,
whom you may not have, and no warrior of honor would
part with his sword "

"Then give me your garments, every last stitch and
strap."

So it was done and Chathres entered the garden naked
as an egg, to the amusement of all.

"Laugh now," Chathres told them "Tonight I shall
take pleasure with mv slave girl. Then who will be laugh-

mg5"

For supper the band ate fruit from the trees and drank
copiously of clear cold water Then Chathres took Sufnt
among the trees and set about his lascivious endeavors. But
the iron walls surrounded a sacred grove and whenever
Chathres attempted a lewd act a great white bat fle\v down
to buffet him with its wings, until Chathres at last desisted

THE BOOK OF DREA MS

and Sufnt WAS allowed to sleep undisturbed Chathres, how-
ever, found no comfort m the chill air of the desert night.

The next day, still lacking water bags, the group con-
tinued to the south, Chathres annoyed by the rays of the
sun as well as sharp pebbles and thornbushes.

At sunset Sufnt guided the troop to an abandoned mon-
astery to which only Marmaduke's key gave access.

On this occasion Chathres was obliged to yield his
sword before Marmaduke allowed him through the portal.

During the night Chathres again tried to use Sufnt for
his pleasure, but a ghost came from the ancient stones and
sat on his back, and Chathres was distracted from his intent.

In the morning the troop set off to the south, Chathres
suffering greatly from sore feet, insect stings, and heat blis-
ters. Still, he never released the rope which he had tied
around Sufnt's waist.

An hour before sunset the band entered a ravine which
almost at once narrowed to a defile. A flight of stairs led
high to a locked door, which Marmaduke's third key
opened at a nvist Each of the troop passing through the
portal gave up a choice gem except Chathres, who gave over
to Marmaduke the rope attached to Sufnt. "She is yours,
along with all my other goods. Let me pass."

Marmaduke instantly removed the rope "Sufnt, you
are free. I supplicate your love but not your submission."

"You shall have both," she told him, and they clasped
hands.

The troop continued along a narrow path. From a
grotto sprang a rock devil "How dare you use my private

•• n

way

' "Be calm," said Sufnt "We will pay toll."

For herself and Marmaduke she paid over the sword
and garments once owned by Chathres. Each of the others
gave up a jewel, except Chathres, who cried out- "I cite my
naked body in evidence' I have nothing. 1 cannot pay."

"In that case," said the devil, "you must step into the
grotto."

The others hurried along the way, the better to escape
the sound of Chathres's appalling outcries.

At last the way came out upon a pleasant land Roads

THE DEMON PRINCES

918

led off in several directions. The comrades took leave of
each other and went their separate ways.

Marmaduke and Sufrit stood hand in hand considering
the various directions. One of the roads dropped into a
green vale, rose again, and slanted across the downs toward
a steeple marking a dear and familiar village. Marmaduke
stared in wonder. "That is the road I would travel," he told
Sufrit. "Will you come with me?"

Sufrit looked along another road which led to a place
she knew well, but none there did she love. "Yes, Marma-
duke, I will come with you."

"Hurry then, and we'll be home before sunset!"

And so it was. They ran joyously along the road to
home, while the light faded behind them. At tea, only Pin-
nacy asked awkward questions, but they said they'd been to
a fancy dress party, and that was all there was to it.

Later, events of this particular time tended to blur in Gersen's
memory: a consequence of fatigue and the necessity of constantly
contriving new plans on the ruins of old. Howard Alan Treesong
had become a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing elusively ahead, ever out of
reach.

Once again in space, Gersen repressed the urge to make for
Pontefract, there to ponder new schemes and perfect his acquain-
tance with Alice Wroke.

Instead, he brought out the Celestial Handbook. Bethune Pre-
serve was the single planet ofCorvus 892, a yellow dwarf, in a group
of a dozen such stars. The system as a whole controlled fourteen
planets, uncounted planetoids, moons, and fragments of debris, of
which Bethune Preserve alone supported life.

Bethune had been discovered by locater Trudi Selland. Her
description of its phenomenal flora and fauna caused a public sen-
sation, and prompted the Naturalist Society to instant negotiations,
which ultimately led to purchase outright. Centuries passed, during
which Bethune Preserve became in effect a planet-sized vivarium.

From the Handbook Gersen read:

At the present time Bethune Preserve is a curious mixture:

ten parts nature preserve, five parts tourist attraction, three
parts headquarters for the Naturalist Society, its affiliates,

THE BOOK OF DRK4A1S 919

and a dozen other organizations such as: Friends of Nature,
Leave Be, Scutinary Vitalisis, Life in God Church, Sierra
Club, Biological Falange, Women for Natural Procreation.
A few residential tracts had been allocated for the use of
these groups, as well as scientists, students, and research
fellows. In practice, almost anyone who finds the conditions
of Bethune Preserve congenial is allowed temporary resi-
dence, which may be extended indefinitely.

Today Bethune Preserve comprises over six hundred
game and nature reserves, jealously guarded in their original
state, ranging from an entire continent to that acre sup-
porting the single and unique lillaw tree, whose provenance
is a total mystery.

The Executive Trustees today are as zealous as their
predecessors—sometimes heard are the words "arbitrary,"
"pedantic," "vindictive," "capricious," "obstinate." They
rule the world as if it were a private natural history museum,
which in fact it is.

In compliance with the local requirements, Gersen drifted close
to one of the ten orbiting quarantine stations. He was boarded by
four officials in uniforms of blue and green. The FlitU'fwing was
searched; Gersen was questioned in regard to contraband life forms
and instructed in local regulations. A pilot remained aboard to guide
the Flittering down upon a plat at the Special Visitors Compound
near the city Tanaquil. Here Gersen was required to post a bond
and forbidden to introduce, sequester, molest, capture, modify, an-
noy, or export living entities of any sort. He was then allowed to
proceed about his business.

From the space-field Gersen rode an omnibus into Tanaquit,
through a grove of enormous black-trunked trees burdened with
vermilion flowers and alive with small twittering creatures, who
jumped, swung, and glided across high sunlit spaces. The omnibus
was evidently their ancient foe; a troop followed overhead, twitter-
ing and pelting the vehicle with fruit pods.

The bus continued into Tanaquil, a town unexpectedly quaint,
like a town built of children's blocks in bright primary colors. The
original scheme had been conceived by the chairwoman of an an-
cient architectural board, who derived inspiration from the illustra-

920 THE DEMON PRINCES

rions in a children's book. She had laid down the architectural
parameters to which "concordance"' must be achieved.

Gersen took lodging at the Hotel Triceratops, a tourist inn notable
for a stuffed saurian twenty feet long, with six splayed legs and two
horns, popularly known as Triceratops Shanar.2

Gersen made inquiry of the desk clerk. "I want to locate an old
acquaintance, but I don't know where he lives."

"No difficulty whatever. Apply to the Registry. There aren't all
that many of us; all told, fewer than five million. But you won't find
anyone there now; they'll all be at lunch."

In the dining room, which was decorated to resemble a pri-
mordial forest, Gersen was served a stolid meal, based upon stan-
dard cosmopolitan cuisine, though the individual dishes all carried
picturesque local names. He drank beer from a bottle labeled SAV-
AGE MAULER ALE, which exhibited the picture of a hideous brute
glaring at a distant tourist charabanc.

At the Registry, Gersen was efficiently provided the addresses
of two Cleadhoes, both resident upon the continent Rheas, in a
place known as Blue Forest Gamp, within the Grand Triste Prim-
itive Reserve.

Gersen had noticed the Halcyon Vista Tourist Service in a
building adjacent to the hotel, but when he applied at the office, it
had already closed for the day; it seemed that the business com-
munity of Tanaquil operated in a fashion convenient to themselves
rather than their customers.

Gersen returned to the hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon
on the shaded veranda, watching tourists, locals, and great floating
insects: wispy creatures of froth, film, and trailing tendrils depend-

1. Concordance: a concept basic Co the nincnoning of Bethune society. The Trustees
govern Bethune Preserve in "concordance" with the old regulations.

Trustees are selected from "Notable Organizations," in which membership is
hereditary. These onctime naturalist groups now serve principally to denominate ihe
aristocracy.

Caste distinctions, while mild and nonresirictive, are real. Tourists are outcastes and
lack cni-rv into local society.

By a curious .ind amusing inversion of values, those persons performing physical
nmctinns in regard tu the animals and orher nature oh|ects—psirk rangers, veterinarians,
biologists, hcrders, plant pathologists. and the like—rank low in status.

2. Bethune taxonomy, while precise, lacks verve. Popular terms carry more impact. Shanar
is one of the Bethune continents.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

921

ing from a gas bladder. He drank a succession of gin pahits and
wondered how best to approach the business at hand.

If he apprised the Cleadhoes of his plan, they might help, they
might hinder, or they could inflict total disaster upon him. He
sorted through a hundred possibilities; then as the sun settled into
the forest, he threw his hands into the air. He could make no def-
inite plans until he knew more about the Cleadhoes.

In the morning Gersen returned to the Halcyon Vista Tourist Ser-
vice, where the clerk smilingly informed him that only qualified
scientists on specially approved expeditions were allowed the hire
of air vehicles.

"No end of troubles otherwise, sir," explained the clerk.
"Think it out for yourself! We'd have little family picnics in the
middle of the Gunderson Wallows, with baby eaten by a three-
armed swamp ape, and daughter raped by the game warden."

"Then how can I get where I want to go?"

"Tourists are recommended to book aboard one of the Wild
Life Inspection Safaris, in a totally safe and air-conditioned vehicle.
That is the easiest and best way to visit the preserves. But where
do you want to go? You must understand that many areas are off-
limits."

"I want to go to Blue Forest Camp in the Grand Triste Prim-
itive Reserve."

The agent shook his head. "That is not an area developed for
tourist travel, sir."

"Suppose you yourself wished to visit Blue Forest Camp, how
would you go about it?"

"I'm not a tourist."

"Still, how would you do it?"

"I'd naturally take the commercial flight to Maundy River Sta-
tion, and the day flight into the forest. But—"

Gersen put a fifty-SVU certificate on the counter. "I'm not a
tourist, I'm a commercial traveler. I sell insect repellent. Get me
the tickets. I'm in a hurry, incidentally."

The agent smiled and shrugged and put the certificate into a
drawer. "It does no good to hurry here. In fact, it may even be
against the law."

922 THE DEMON PRINCES

Blue Forest was a heavily wooded savanna, rather than an unbroken
growth of trees, and occupied the basin of the Great Bulduke River,
an area of half a million square miles. The forest foliage was only
predominantly blue, in three hues: ultramarine, bright sky blue, and
pallid chalk blue. Additionally, certain trees showed foliage of
beetle-wing green and a few were gray. Enormous soft-winged
moths moving through the sunlight created a teasing flicker of
crimson and black. Beasts were numerous- The herbivores were
protected by bulk, armor, speed, agility, stench, nailing arms, bris-
tling horns, or poison glands. Carnivores displayed equipment to
overcome the defenses. Various sorts of scavengers skulked through
the shadows.

The Junction of the Lesser Bulduke and the Haunted River
occurred in a network of sloughs and swamps, inhabited by an ex-
travagant variety of creatures: large, small, fearsome, mild, with and
without yellow wattles, with and without gaping purple maws.
North of the swamp rose a low tableland, the site of Blue Forest
Camp.

Gersen walked from the airport to town along an unpaved road
guarded by a pair of ten-foot fences, which held back vegetation
and beasts but permitted the free passage of insects. Heat and hu-
midity oppressed the air, which smelled of twenty unfamiliar odors:

vegetation, soil, animal essences.

The fence struck off to either side at right angles to enclose
the town. Gersen went to the Corporation Circuit Hotel and en-
tered a lobby dim and cool. Without comment he was assigned a
room by a morose young woman, who took his money and jerked
her thumb toward the hall. "Room four." Keys were considered
unnecessary.

Gersen's room was clean, cool, sparsely furnished, and well
screened from the outdoors. An old town directory lay on the table.
Gersen turned the pages. He saw:

Cleadhoe, Otho
Cleadhoe, Tuty

Residence:

Employment:

Residence:

Employment:

20 Perimeter
Post-station Workshop
20 Perimeter
Commissary

Gersen went out into the little central square. The town was
quiet; few folk were abroad. Across the street a gaunt structure
showed a sign: COMMISSARY.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 923

Gersen looked through the door. He saw an elderly man and a
portly black-haired woman with thick black eyebrows, a heavy nose,
and an uncompromising manner. The affairs of a customer occu-
pied her attention; Gersen turned away. The Commissary was not
an appropriate place to meet Tuty Cleadhoe.

In the center of the square a refreshment stand sold cold drinks
and ices. Gersen obtained a pint of cold fruit punch and seated
himself on a bench.

For an hour he waited while the folk of Blue Forest Camp went
about their affairs. Children trooped past on their way home from
school; persons entered the Commissary and departed. The sun
dropped into the west.

From the Commissary came Tuty Cleadhoe. She walked briskly
away to the south part of town.

Gersen followed, along a lane shaded under great spreading
trees. Tuty Cleadhoe entered a house close by the peripheral fence.

Gersen waited ten minutes, then rang the doorbell. The door
slid back and Tuty Cleadhoe looked out. "Sir?^

"I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Indeed." Tuty's dark eyes snapped as she looked Gersen up
and down. "To what purpose?"

"You formerly were resident at Gladbetook in Maunish?"

After a short pause. "Yes. A long time ago."

"I have just come from there."

"That is of no interest to me. I have only bitter memories of
Gladbetook. You must excuse me. The neighbors will wonder at
my talking to a strange man." She started to close the door.

"Wait!" cried Gersen. "You lived near the Hardoah family?"

Tuty Cleadhoe looked through the narrow gap. "That is true."

Gersen found himself proceeding faster than he had intended.
"Do you remember Howard Hardoah?"

Tuty Cleadhoe stared at Gersen a long ten seconds. She re-
sponded in a thick voice: 'T do indeed."

"May I come in? I am here in connection with Howard Har-
doah."

Tuty Cleadhoe grudgingly stepped aside and made a gesture.
"Come in then."

The interior of the house was dim, stuffy, and, for so warm a
climate, overfurnished. Tuty pointed to a chair upholstered in rose-

924 THE DEMON PRINCES

pinkvelour. "Sit, if you will. . . . Now then, what is this of Howard
Hardoah?"

"Recently I had occasion to visit the Hardoah farmstead, and
the conversation turned to the subject of Howard."

Tutv Cleadhoe looked incredulous. "Howard lives at home?"

"No. He left long ago."

Tuty thrust her head forward. "Do you know why?"

"Trouble of some sort. That's mv guess."

"If I could have put my hands on him"—she extended her
hands with fingers clenching—"I would have torn him into bits."

Gersen leaned back in his chair. Tuty spoke on iu a voice hiss-
ing with passion. "He came to our house; he called to our son,
softly, so that we should not hear. But we heard. He called out our
one chick, our boy Nymphotis, who was so meek and good. They
went to the pond and there Howard drowned our little son, held
him under the water.

"I had a terrible feeling; I called, 'Nymphotis! Where are you?'
I went to the pond, and there I found my lovely child. I pulled out
the little bedraggled corpse and carried him home. Otho went to
find Howard, but he had already gone."

Gersen asked, "Howard never knew that you suspected him?"

"There was no suspicion. It was certainty!"

"But Howard never knew?"

Tuty made a fierce controlled gesture. "How could he know?
He was gone. It was our tragedy."

Gersen said, "I did not know Nymphotis was dead. I'm sorry
to revive bitter memories."

"You revive nothing' We live with them daily. Look!" Tuty's
voice cracked with emotion. "Look!"

Gersen turned his head. In a shadowed corner of the room
stood a boy formed of a glossy white substance.

"That is our Nvmphotis."

Gersen turned away. "I will tell you something of Howard Har-
doah and what he has become, and how justice may be done upon
him."

"Wait! Otho must hear you. If you think I am bitter, he sur-
passes me fourfold." She went to a telephone, made a connection,
and poured a tumble of words into the mesh. P'rom time to time a
man's voice uttered a question. Tuty gestured to Gersen.

"Now speak! We both will hear you."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

925

"Howard Hardoah is now a great criminal. He calls himself
Howard Alan Treesong."

Neither Tuty nor Otho Cleadhoe made comment. "Go on."

"I have tracked him across the Oikumene. He is wary. He must
be lured and baited with great care. I have failed twice, but now I
have the bait to lure him again. Here your help would be useful."

Gersen paused. Otho said, "Go on."

"I don't want to continue unless you feel able to help me. There
will be danger."

"You need not worry for us," said Otho. "Tell us what you
have in mind."

"You will help?"

"Tell us what you have in mind."

"I want to bring him here, take him out into the jungle, and
kill him."

Tuty said in an angry voice: "There is nothing for us to do!
You will confront him, you will kill him! It is for Nymphotis that
he must pay!"

"No matter," said Otho in a heavy voice. "We will help."

16

From The Book of D? earns

Gentle and gracious is Blue Rhune Fader, yet when
moan the winds of war, Rhune's sword drinks as deep as
any When the land is quiet, then Rhune wanders the flow-
ered fields and sings songs of music

Not so Lons Hohenger, the feroce, whose color is the red-
dest of the reds' His ardor needs always a strong control,
his truculence balances on a hair Only the paladins know
his tolerance and his true affection All others, when in his
company, walk as if on eggshell His lusts are intractable,
he plunders fair ladies of their treasure, usually to their
delight, but occasionally to their distress, as with golden-
haired Mehssa, who had vowed her virgimt} to the glory
ofSancta Sanctissima Zada Memar, of fabulous beauty, ex-
cited him past all control, hut she gave herself to Immir
And Lons was first to hold high his sword in praise' Gallop
forward along your mad and reckless murst,' oh Lons, on
and ever on'

Arriving in Pontefract, Gersen rode b\ taxicab to Tara Square,
where he alighted •\round him, on all sides, order and rectitude
narrow old buildings, pallid folk in formal garments, pansies and
wallflowers in raised beds, mist, overcast, dank winds and smells,
all placid, customan, and reassuring    At a public telephone,

1 The meaning of this •ftun.1 like others in Thi Hoof. i) Dmim^ can onh he LoniLcnirni
(Must lir^enLV VHthi.f/i-f in Old Russii a leagm \- irtetchnl hut who Lnims )

THE BOOK Or DKI^ WS

927

Gersen called the Extant offices and was connected to Maxel Rack-
rose, who was serving as interim managing editor

Rackrose gave Gersen a greeting at once cordial and cautious
He reported that, in general, all went well with Extant, credit for
which he ascribed to himself

"I'm glad to hear all is going well," said Gersen "I suppose I'd
better check in with my secretary "

"Your secretary3" Rackrose's voice sounded puzzled "Who is
that?"

Gersen's heart sank "Alice Wroke The redheaded girl. Isn't
she at Extant anymore2"

"Oh yes, I remember," said Rackrose "Yes indeed Alice
Wroke Girl, sport-model, redheaded She's gone "

"Gone where^"

"I haven't a notion    I'll look m the hook   . You're in luck
She's left a letter addressed to you "

"I'll be right there "

Fhe envelope was inscribed

To be given into the hand of Hem-y Lucas only
The letter read

Dear Henry Lucas

I discover that I am not really interested in journalism
Therefore I have resigned my position with Extant I am
staying at Gladen's Hotel, Port WTwary, which is south
along the coast

Alice Wroke

Gersen telephoned Gladen's Hotel at Port Wheary Miss
Wroke was not in but was expected back m an hour or so

At a rental station Gersen hired an air-car He flew south along
the coastline, following the wavering white line created b\ wallows
of gray water crashing up and over the rocks, across St Kilda's Bay,
over Cape Mav and Point Kittery He passed Hannah's Head )ust
as Vega shone through a rent in the clouds to illuminate the white
houses of Port W^hearv across Polwheel Bay

Gersen landed at the public plat, walked along the waterfront
to Gladen's Hotel

928 HE. DEMON PRINCES

In the lounge by the fireplace he found Alice Wroke. She
turned her head, saw him, and started to rise.

Gersen crossed the room He took her hands, pulled her to her
feet, kissed her face, then put his arms around her.

"Henry7, stop'" cried Alice Wroke. She gave an excited laugh.
"You're smothering me'"

Gersen relaxed his grip "You needn't call me Henry anymore.
Henry is |ust a mailing address. This is me."

Alice drew back and looked him up and down. "Does this ver-
sion have a name3"

"It's called Kirth Gersen and it's less of a gentleman than
Henry Lucas."

Alice inspected him again. "I enjoyed Henry Lucas, even
though he was arrogant and hateful. What of you-know-who3"

"He's still alive There's a lot to tell. Will it keep until I've had
a bath and changed my clothes3"

"I'll call Mrs. Gladen and she'll give you a room. She's very
respectable, so don't do anything to shock her."

Gersen and Alice dined by the light of candles in the corner of the
veranda. "Now," said Alice, "tell me your adventures."

"I went to Howard's school reunion at GIadbetook on Moud-
ervelt. Howard played ;okes and danced the hornpipe. He criticized
the performance of a musician in the orchestra. The musician shot
him in the backside and the party ended."

"And where were you?"

"I was the musician."

"Ah' It's all clear now. What else happened3"

"I found Howard's Book of Dfeamf, which he lost twenty-five
years ago I'm sure that he wants it back." Gersen pushed the old
red notebook across the table. "There it is "

Alice bent her head over the book The candlelight burnished
her hair and cast shadows along her slanted cheeks. Gersen sat
watching her Here sit I, he thought, across the table from mirac-
ulous Alice Wroke. .

Alice turned pages. She came to the end and closed the book
After a few moments she said "Almost always he is Immir. But I've
metJeha Rais and Mew ness and Spangieway, and I've had a glimpse
or two of Rhune Fader, who paid me no heed. I'm happy that Lons
Hohenger was otherwise occupied "

THE BOOK Of DRUM^

Gersen put the book back in his pocket Alice mused "Zada
Memar—I wonder what happened to her "

"She came to GIadbetook from offplanct IMule on a school
picnic she drowned in Persimmon Lake "

"Poor Zada Memar I wonder. "

Gersen shook his head "Not I "

Alice looked at him, her eyes dark in the candlelight "What
do you mean3"

"I don't wonder at all."

In Comiopoli^ appeared an article accompanied b\ se\cral illustra-
tions. The heading read

HOWARD ALAN TREFSONG ATT ENDS
25TH ANNIVERSARY SCHOOL REUNION
A Party No One W^ill forget

E\en Criminals Show Sentiment

The Greater the Criminal, the Greater the Sentiment
—by our local correspondent,
GIadbetook, Maumsh,
Moudcrvelt, Van Kaathc's Star

(Editorial note Mannish is one ot 1,^62 independent prin-
cipalities comprising the political estates ol Moudenelt Its
landscape includes prairies, nverlands, farms, and forests,
supporting nearly a million persons. Howard Alan ^ rec-
song uas born on a tarm near the village Gtadbetook.)

Twenty-h\e years ago a shy brown-haired ho\ known as
Howard Hardoah attended the district Ivceuin at Gladbc
took That hoy is now the preeminent criminal of the Oik-
umene and Beyond, and is reckoned as one ol- the notorious
"Demon Princes" His name, Howard Man I reeson^.
strikes terror into a multitude ot- hearts, and his exploits
ha\e n\etcd the attention ol c\ervone But Howard Alan
Ireesong still icmembers old times, and with no lack ol
nostalgia \.t the recent reunion ot his class he made a dra-
matic appearance, e\okmg from his old school chums what
best can be dcscubed as mixed emotions

y.H) TUP; DEMON PRINCES

The event will never be forgotten, and, if only in this re-
gard, must be considered a great success. Early in the eve-
ning Howard IIardoah (as he was known at school) became
convivial and roamed from table to table telling anecdotes
and recalling old incidents, sometimes to the discomfort of
his audience.

As the evening progressed, Mr. Hardoah's spirits soared to
ever higher levels of fun and audacity. He played merry
tunes on the fiddle; he danced several gavottes, a hornpipe,
and a twitcherv. Mr. Hardoah's revelries knew no limits and
totally captivated the group. He ordained ingenious pranks
and charades to celebrate old episodes; these were dutifully
performed by his now-nervous classmates, to whom his ul-
timate intentions were never quite clear. He sat Mr. Maddo
Strubbins on a block of ice; he tattooed Air. Bloy Sadal-
floury; and he arranged to escort Mrs. Suby ver Ahe with
her two charming daughters, Mirl and Maud, on a long
cruise through the outer worlds.

The festivities were interrupted by a gang of marauders
who shot Mr. Hardoah in the buttocks and caused such
consternation that the party came to an end. Mr. Hardoah
departed in pain. The wound will surely curtail his dancing
for some time to come. Mr. I lardoah expressed outrage that
in a presumably well-ordered community such crass acts of
violence could take place. He hopes to return to the next
reunion, providing that it could be terminated less abruptly,
inasmuch as he had staged only a few of his ingenious fri-
volities.

In the next issue of CosrfiopoHs:

HOWARD ALAN TREESONG

His Memorabilia and Boyhood

(Editor's note: A recent article relating to the notorious
Howard Alan Treesong evoked much comment. The fol-
lowing communication, so we hope, may also be of interest
to our readers.)

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

To the Editors of Cosmopolis:

I read your recent article about the school reunion at Glad-
betook with great interest, inasmuch as my son Nymphotis
was a school chum of young Howard Hardoah. It is strange
how life works out. The two boys were inseparable, and
Nimpy, as we called him, often spoke of Howard's talents
and skills, and his dearest possession was a little book of
fancies, The Book of Dreams, which Howard gave to him.

Our little lad died in a swimming accident shortly before
we left Maunish and we still have The Book of Dreams to
remind us of the old days on the prairie. We find it hard
to imagine Howard Hardoah, so shy and careful, becoming
the person you describe, but in our lifetime we have known
many surprising events; more so, I believe, than most peo-
ple, since we have traveled from place to place, and even
now hardly know where we will die. W^e think often of our
poor little Nimpy. If he had lived, perhaps now he might
also be a person of consequence.

Please do not include my name and address,
cope with correspondence at this time.

T

as I cannot

Respectfully,
TutyC.

(Full name and address withheld by request.)

Into the Cosmopolis office came a spare and saturnine man of
indeterminate age, wearing a neat black suit cut in the local style:

pinched at the shoulders and flaring at the hips. He moved with
the quiet deftness of a cat. His eyes were black, his face was hollow-
cheeked and narrow. Dense black hair grew to a widow's peak, then
coved back over his temples and down past his ears. He went to
the reception desk, looking alertly to both sides as he did so, as if
from long habit. The clerk asked: "Sir, how may we oblige you?"

"I'd like a few words with the gentleman who wrote about Mr.
Howard Treesong a few weeks ago."

"Oh, that would he Henry Lucas. I believe he's in his office.
May I ask your name, sir?"

'"Schah'ar."

THE DEMON PRINCES

932

"And the nature of your business, Mr. Schahar?"
"Well, miss, it's somewhat complicated. I'd prefer to explain it

once only to Mr. Lucas."

"Just as you like, sir. I'll ask if Mr. Lucas can see you now."
The girl spoke into a mesh and received a response. She looked

back to Schahar. "Will you have a seat, sir? He'll see you in five

minutes."

Schahar sat quietly, his black eyes nicking here and there

around the room.

A musical tone sounded. The receptionist said: "Mr. Schahar,

if you please."

She conducted Schahar along a hall and ushered him into a
room with pale green walls and a lavender rug. Behind a kidney-
shaped table lounged a stylishly pallid man with a languid face
framed by glossy dark ringlets. His clothes were a confection of
superb elegance; his manner, like his expression, was languid and
just short of supercilious. He spoke in a toneless voice. "Sir, I am
Henry Lucas. Please seat yourself. I don't think I know you. Mr.
Schahar, I believe."

"That is correct, sir." Schahar spoke easily in a neutral voice.
"You are a busy man and I will not take too much of your time. I
am a writer, like yourself, though certainly neither as competent

nor as successful."

Gersen, noting Schahar's strong shoulders, long sinewy arms,
heavy hands with long strong fingers, controlled a smile of grim
amusement. Schahar exuded a psychic aura of lethal expertise, of
stabbings and strangulation, of terror and pain. Schahar had been
present at the school reunion, standing at the entrance with the
short thick man. Gersen recalled an event of months before when
Lamar Medrano of Wild Isle had met Emmaus Schahar at Starport,
New Concept. She had departed the Diomedes Hotel with him and
had never been seen again.

"Tush," said Gersen. "1 am not a writer; I am a journalist.

What is your particular field?"

"General affairs. Facts and personalities. I have recently become
interested in Howard Alan Treeson^ and his amazing career. Un-
fortunately, facts are hard to come by."

"I have found it so," said Gersen.

"The article on the school reunion—you wrote that, I believe?"

"Our local correspondent submitted ten pages of very excited

THE BOOK OF DKE4MS 933

prose, which I cobbled together as best I could. For information
about Treesong, Maunish would seem the place to go."

"I may well take your advice. What of this woman and her Book
of DreamsY^

Gersen gave an uninterested shrug. "I haven't looked into it.
The letter is around here somewhere. I seem to have been desig-
nated the Treesong expert." Gersen opened a drawer, withdrew a
sheet of paper, glanced at it. Schahar leaned forward.

"An old exercise book or something similar," said Gersen.
"Probably nothing remarkable."

Schahar held out his hand. "May I see?"

Gersen looked up as if in surprise and seemed to hesitate. He
frowned down at the letter. "Sorry, I think I'd better not. The
woman doesn't want to be identified. I can't say that I blame her,
with so many cranks and crackpots running loose." Gersen replaced
the letter in the drawer.

Schahar drew back, smiling a faint smile. "I'd like to collect any
and all information available on this particular subject. My main
interest is Howard Treesong's early life—his formative period, so
to speak. I am anxious especially to examine such trifles as The Book
of Dreams.^ Schahar paused, but Gersen responded only with a non-
committal nod.

Schahar went on, speaking with a persuasive urgency: "Suppose
I undertook to approach this woman in the capacity of a writer
submitting to Cosniopolis, would you then allow me her address?"

"Your efforts would far exceed your profit, that's my opinion.
Why not visit Gladbetook on Moudervelt and make inquiries of his
old acquaintances? That would seem more fertile scope for re-
search."

"Again, that is excellent advice, sir." Schahar rose to his feet,
paused a moment, and seemed to sway slightly forward.

Languidly Gersen also arose. "I have an appointment else-
where, otherwise I'd be happy to discuss the matter with you at
greater length. I wish you success."

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas." Schahar left the room.

Gersen waited. An instrument to the side of his desk sounded
a tone. Gersen smiled. He arranged a telltale to the drawer of his
table, then turned a key in the antique lock. Clapping a triple-tier
Aloysian hat on his head, he departed the room, strolled down the

934 THE DEMON PRINCES

corridor past a pair of unoccupied offices. Behind one of the doors
stood Schahar, so the signal-tone had informed Gersen.

Gersen walked at a leisurely rate around the block, then re-
turned. He went directly to his office. Standing to the side, he slid
open the door.

No explosion, no hiss of projectile.

Gersen entered the room. The telltale at the drawer had been
disarranged. The lock showed no evidence of tampering; Schahar
was a skillful operator. Gersen opened the drawer. The letter re-
mained as he had left it; Schahar had been satisfied with the name
and address.

Gersen went to the telephone and called Alice. "It's happened."

"Who came?"

"A man called Schahar. I'm going directly to the spaceport."

Alice's voice was neutral. "Take care of yourself."

"Of course."

Gersen threw the hat toward a chair, changed from his tight-
shouldered suit into spaceman's ordinary, and left the Cosmopolis
office—perhaps for the last time.

A cab took him to the spaceport and out the access avenue to
the Fantamic Flitferwing. It had been cleaned, washed, polished,
overhauled, inspected, and provisioned. The ports had been scraped
clean of space dust. The linen had been renewed, the tanks were
full of water, the bins loaded with food. The support systems had
been recharged; the energy cells were replete.

The Fantamic Flittey-wing was ready for space.

Gersen climbed aboard, closed the port, stepped into the sa-
loon. His nose detected the faintest of perfumes. He looked to right
and left.

Nothing extraordinary.

He took three strides to the stateroom: empty. He threw open
the door to the head. "Out with you."

Wearing mouse gray shorts and a black tunic, Alice marched
forth. "So there you are," said Gersen.

"So it would appear," said Alice.

"I half expected this." Gersen pointed to the port. "Off the
ship with you."

"Absolutely not. I've decided never to let you out of my sight
again. You might not come back." She stepped close to him and
looked up into his face, "Don't you want me aboard?"

THE BOOK OF DRI-'AMS

935

"Oh, I'm sure I'd find you useful. Still, it's dangerous "
"I know."

"Well, I can't waste time arguing. Now that you're here . . ."
Alice gave a triumphant laugh. "I knew you'd see it my way."

17

Bethune Preserve hung in space full in the light of Corvus 892
Gersen eased the Flitterwmg close up beside one of the orbiting
stations No pilot was immediately available, he was ordered to

stand by

Alice grumbled about the formalities "I don't intend to molest
their animals' I told them so but I don't think they believe me "

"Howard will be even more vexed He can't simply show up in
his battle cruiser and throw his weight around "

"Perhaps he'll arrive as a tourist Perhaps he won't dare to come

at all "

"I can't see him sending Schahar down for his precious Book of
Dreams In any event you'll have to stay in Tanaquil, out of the
way, if he catches one glimpse of you, we're in trouble "

Alice put on a submissive face "Whatever you say Still, you
yourself said I don't look like Alice when I'm dressed as a boy, with
my hair covered "

"We'd better cut off your hair and dye the stubble black "

"That's not necessary I'd be a funny-looking sight You'd laugh
at me, I'd be angry and there would go our romance "

Gersen put his arms around her "That's a chance we can't

take "

"Of course not   WTiat are you doing3 Stop' You've chased
me around the ship twice today already'"

" rhere's nothing else to do You bring it on yourself, really "
"Aren't you afraid I'll wear out^    No^ Oh well
The pilot presently arrived and took the vessel down to Ta-
naquil, despite Gersen's request to put down at the Blue Forest
Camp airport

THE BOOK OF DKZL-1US

"Sorry," said the pilot "That's not regulation "

It occurred to Gersen that even third word the pilot spoke was
"regulation " 1 he pilot went on "We can't make it convenient,
you know Everyone would be tracking about, picking flowers, tcis
mg the monkeys 1 ounsts must go about their visits with decorum
and respect Personally I'd keep the blighters out altogether "

"Then there'd be no one to inflict your regulitions on and
you'd be out of a )oh "

The pilot turned Gersen a blue-eyed stare He decided Gersen
had intended a )oke and laughed "I'd make out one way or another
I'm not fust a flight attendant, you know In fact, I'm a fourth-level
type and reckoned an expert on the pathology of the segmented
melantid-worm "

Alice asked, "In that case why are \ou here piloting and not
out taking care of sick worms3"

"There aren't that many worms They hide deep in the mud
where they are hard to catch Then, like as not, they are quite well
I may quality for a second specialty In the meantime, I do oui
regulation stint with the company    Here we arc at the terminal
Leave all weapons and contraband aboard your vessel 'Now, it
you'll alight I'll seal the doors "

Gersen and Alice, each carrying a small travel bag, alighted,
underwent further examination and search, and were finally issued
clearances

At a wicket marked OIIKI-\L \\D LIMI1ID ( OMMI R< l\l
i R^NSI I, Geisen attempted to book passage to Blue I orcst Gamp
aboard the Station Service Flier The clerk refused to listen to him
and pushed back his money "You'll ha' e to apply to the designated
authorities, we're very keen here on orderly methods "

"Out of curiosity, when is the next departure for Blue Forest
Camp3"

"Two departures today, sir, middle afternoon and shortly after,
by the left- and right-hand routes "

By open-sided omnibus Gersen md -Mice rode into town under
tall jacarandas and drupes, pursued by hysterical tree creatures

'Vt the I lalcyon Vista Tourist Service Gersen found i new clerk
in attendance a self-important young worn in vuth nairow eves and
supercilious nostrils She instantly declared Gersen's request im-
possible and tried to sell him tickets on ^ ounst Schedule Route C
Gersen used persistence and reasoned argument, after ten minutes

IIIF DFMON PRI\CFS

of grim research into travel regulations the woman could find no
stipulations expressly supporting her position and grudgingly issued
a pair of passage vouchers

The spaceport omnibus had gone out of service for the day
Gersen located the town's only taxi, and the two returned to the
spaceport, arriving only ten minutes prior to the early flight

Two hours later the flier dropped down upon the (ungle com-
pound north of Blue Forest Camp The door opened, into the cabin
came a waft reeking of the swamp

Gersen and Alice alighted, the flier departed into the south, and
they stood alone in the )ungle clearing.

"The middle of nowhere," said Gersen " 1'his way to the vil-
lage "

From the Corporation Circuit Hotel Gersen telephoned Tuty
Cleadhoe at the Commissary "I'm back again All is going accord-
ing to plan Have you had word yet from, let us say, anyone else3"

"Nothing yet " i'uty's voice was harsh "We await him with
hope and anxiety You have the book3"

"I'll bring what I have to your house, in say, half an hour "

Tun7 made a peevish tskm^, sound "We have regulations here.
I can't leave my work on an instant's whim' . Well, if I must, I
must I'll make an excuse "

Gersen told Alice, "Mrs Cleadhoe has strong views, in fact,
she's obstinate and suspicious " He examined her critically "You'd
better wear something drab and inconspicuous "

Alice looked down at herself She wore gray spaceman's
breeches, black ankle-boots, a dark green shirt "What could be
more drab and inconspicuous than this3"

"Well, pull that hat down over your hair and try to look like a
boy"

"Mrs Cleadhoe might well be more suspicious than ever "

"I'm also thinking of Howard Treesong," said Gersen "If he
sees red hair he'll think 'Alice ' It would be better if you stayed here
at the hotel "

"We've been through this before."

"Stay in the shadows Talk in a low gruff voice "

"I'll do my best "

From his carrying case Gersen took various bits and pieces and
stowed them about his person Alice watched without comment.
Ciersen finally said, "These are weapons, all invoking poison Take

THE BOOK OF DRE/l WS 9^9

this and be very careful with it " He gave her a bit of glass tube
four inches long "If someone you don't like comes close, aim the
tube toward his face and blow into this end Then, move as far
away as possible "

Alice soberly tucked the rube in the chest pocket of her shirt

They left the hotel and walked around to Tuty Cleadhoe's cot-
tage She had been watching, the door opened as they approached

Tuty's heavy face clouded with surprise at the sight of Alice
"Who is this3 And what3"

"Her name is Alice Wroke She is my colleague "

"Hmmf Well, it's none of my business Come in "

The room had changed from Gersen's previous visit in a single
particular Nimpy's marmel no longer stood wistfully on the dais

Tuty gave a grim nod "Nimpy is gone for the while Now then,
where is the book3"

Gersen gave her a red notebook inscribed The Book of Dreams
Tuty glanced through the pages She looked up in annoyance
"There's nothing here'"

"Naturally not Do you think I'd risk the real book so easily3
It is a facsimile—bait, so to speak "

Tuty said grimly, "It is enough You need do nothing more
Otho and I have formed our plans Nothing is left to chance You
should go back to Tanaquil and wait. When the work is done you
will be notified "

Gersen laughed "You may have formed plans but so has How-
ard He is a professional "

"I have no doubt How would you deal with him3"

"Sooner or later he'll show himself here When he does, I will
kill him "

Tuty stood, arms akimbo, hands on her sturdy hips "Indeed,
indeed How will you do this without weapons3"

"I could ask you the same "

"I have a gun, a Model J pro)ac It will blow the head off a
thrombodaxus "

"Will you allow me the use of this gun3"

"Certainly not' Regulation strictly forbids it Nor would Otho
approve .  How long before Howard comes3"

"I don't know I came as fast as possible I suspect that he will
do the same There won't be much time between us "

Alice pointed out the window "No time at all.  Look "

940 THE DEMON PRINCES

Along the street came Schahar, and behind him a short, thick
man with heavy shoulders and a near-neckless head.

"Those are two of Howard's men," said Gersen. "Do you still
think you can cope with them?"

"Certainly. Here he comes! Into the back room with you. And
not a sound!" She hustled them into the back parlor and pulled the
door shut. Light through a side window shone on a photograph of
young Nimpy, in a silver frame, resting on a nearby library table.

Gersen tried the door, which refused to move. He cursed under
his breath. "The old fool has locked us in!"

Alice looked at the window. "It's small. But I could squeeze
through."

"The door isn't all that solid. We can break through any time
we like."

"Shh. Listen."

From the front room came sounds of conversation.

"You are Tuty Cleadhoe?" This was Schahar's voice.

"What of it? Who are you? No one I know."

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, I am traveling secretary—"

"Go to the hotel. I don't want strangers about. I'm not alone;

I have a great gun ready for intruders. Be off with you."

"—for a noble and important gentleman, who wants to speak
with you, I'm sure to your profit."

"An important gentleman? I know no one like that. What's his
name? And if he's so noble why doesn't he come here himself in-
stead of sending you?"

"Like yourself, Mrs. Cleadhoe, he doesn't care to deal with
unpredictable people. He is also nervous and timid. Guns alarm
him, so please—"

"Be off with you and your affronts' And be quick, before I
nervously and timidly blast off your leg! I am old and alone, but I
take no abuse from bald-headed tourists!"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cleadhoe. I'm sorry to offend you. Please
don't flourish your gun so freely. One question; are you the 'Tuty
C.' who recently wrote to Cosmopolis magazine?"

"What of it? WTiy should I not write as I wish? What harm
have I done?"

"No harm whatever. You brought good luck to yourself as you
will see, if you put away your gun and compose yourself; then I will
ask my principal to join us."

THE BOOK OF DRI^IMS

941

"And then it'd he two against one? Ha-ha. No chance of that.
Send in this noble timid gentleman and don't come back. The gun?
I'll put it bv, unless it wants use."

"I'm sure you'll find no cause for alarm, Mrs. Cleadhoe, and
every reason for satisfaction."

"I can't imagine why or how."

No response from Schahar, who evidently had departed. Gersen
put his shoulder against the door, which creaked and groaned. At
once a loud rap sounded on the panel. "You two stay quiet! You
are not to interfere with our plans! Not a sound now; someone's at
the door."

Gersen muttered under his breath. Alice said, "Shh. Listen. I
think it's Howard."

They heard the sound of the outer door opening and Tuty's
voice: "Sir, and who are you?"

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, you don't recognize me?"

"No. Why should I? What do you want?"

"I'll refresh your memory. You wrote to a-magazine about old
times in Gladbetook and a certain chum of your Nymphotis."

"You're not Howard Hardoah? But I see it now! How you have
grown! As a boy you seemed so frail! Well, think of that! I must
telephone Otho! A pity he can't be here."

Inside the back room Gersen, clenching his teeth in frustration,
put his hand to the door latch. Alice pulled him back. "Don't be
foolish! Tuty would shoot you without a second thought! She
knows what she's after."

"So do I. It's not this."

"Shh! Be reasonable."

Gersen again put his ear to the door.

"—a marvel how the years go by!—seems so long ago and far
away! But how you've changed, so handsome and fine you've be-
come! But come in, do, and I'll pour us a drop of something.. . .
Here's some good old fructance. Or would you like tea and perhaps
a bite of cake?"

"That's very good of you, Mrs. Cleadhoe. I'll take a drop of
fructance. . . . That's more than enough."

"Have some of these little cakes. I can't imagine how you found
me here, or why. . . . But of course. My letter to the magazine."

"Of course! It brought back old memories, things I hadn't
thought of in years. Like the little book you mentioned."

THE. DEMON PRINCF.S

942

"Oh dear yes! That funny little red book! What a fanciful lad
you were, so full of dreams and glamours' The Book of Dreams—
that's how you named your book!"

"True! I remember distinctly. I'm anxious to see it again."

"And you certainly will. I'll find it in a moment, but you must
Join me in my meal. I was just about to cook up some hotchpotch
Gladbetook-style, and a dish of lessamy. I hope you haven't lost
your taste for home cooking?"

"Worse, far worse! I've taken a stomach ailment and I'm re-
stricted as to what I eat. But don't let me interfere. Cook up your
own dinner and meanwhile I'll glance through my old red book."

"Let me think now, what have I done with it? ... Of course,
it's at the station, where Otho does his Grafting. He works such
long hours, it's a pity and disgrace! But there are so few qualified
nowadays, and Otho is at it night and day. He'll be so pleased to
see you! Surely you can spend the week here with me until he comes
out of the jungle! He'd never forgive me if I let you go."

"A week? Oh, Mrs. Cleadhoe, I truly can't spare so much time!"

"Now then, I have a nice spare room, and I'm sure you need
the rest. And then you'll be able to see Mr. Cleadhoe. I'll have him
bring your book when he comes. We'll have such good gossips over
old times."

"It sounds delightful, Mrs. Cleadhoe. but I can't spare so much
time. Still, I'd like to see Mr. Cleadhoe. Where is the out-station?"

"It's away through the jungle, a good hour's ride on the railcar.
Tourists naturally aren't allowed anywhere near."

"Really? Why not?"

"They bother the beasts, or give them unwholesome food.
Some of these beasts are under experiment; we keep them close
under observation and provide their food. Mr. Cleadhoe does things
just so."

"A pity he can't come in from the station tonight. Why not call
him on the telephone?"

"Oh no. He'd never hear of it. The connections are wrong, in
any event."

"How so?"

"By afternoon there's a feed train that tends for sick animals.
It goes out to the station and returns by morning; that's routine
and won't be changed. Sometimes I drive it out and stay the night

THE HOOK OF DR^MS

when the regular driver wants time to himself. He always reim-
burses me for my lost time at the Commissary."

A pause, then came Treesong-'s voice, light and easy: "Why not
drive us out tonight? It would be a great experience for us. Of
course I'd reimburse your expenses."

"And who do you mean by 'us'?"

"You, me, Umps, and Schahar. We'd all like to see the station."

"Not possible. Tourists aren't allowed at the station; that's a
strict regulation. One person besides the driver can crouch in the
back cab and not be seen, but not three."

"Couldn't they ride elsewhere?"

"Among the slops and swill? Your friends would not like it' It's
against all regulation!"

Another pause. Then: "Would fifty7 SVU cover your expenses
at the Commissary?"

"Of course. They don't overpay us, that's a sad truth. Still, we
don't complain. Our cottage comes without rent and I get a nice
discount at the Commissary. Look in tomorrow and if there's any-
thing you fancy, I can get it at a good price. If you don't care to
go out to the station without your friends, why not Just stay the
week? Otho would be distressed to miss you."

"Actually, Mrs. Cleadhoe, time presses me hard. Here's fifty
SVU. We'll go out this afternoon."

"Well, there's not much time for arrangements. I'll have to
telephone here and there like a wild woman. And perhaps I should
have something for Joseph to close his mouth. He's the regular
driver. That way we're on the safe side. Can you manage another
twenty?"

"Yes, I think so."

"That should suffice. Now then, take your friends back to the
hotel, then meet me with your overnight kit at the terminal; it's
just a hundred yards along the road. In half an hour, no later—and
don't approach until I signal, in case Superintendent Kennifer is
strolling about. . . . Oh, and I must call Mr. Cleadhoe to tell him
we're on our way, and to air the extra room. If it's jungle you want,
it's all there at the station. Perhaps tonight we'll see a lucifer or a
scorposaur. Hurry then, be off with you. In half an hour, at the
terminal."

The door closed. Tuty Cleadhoe approached the back parlor.
"You two in there—did you hear?"

THE DEMON PRINCES

944

Gersen threw his shoulder against the door; it burst open. Tuty
Cleadhoe stood back holding the blaster in both hands, her squat
body braced and her face creased in a grin. "Stand back there! Make
a move and I'll blow you up! I don't care a whit about you! Live

or die! So stand back!"

Gersen spoke with dignity. "I thought that we were in this

business together."

"So we are. You brought Howard here; I'm taking him out to
Mr. Cleadhoe and we shall see. Now sit down yonder, as I must
make my arrangements." She jerked the gun. Alice pulled Gersen
to a couch and the two seated themselves.

Tuty nodded and went to the telephone. She made several calls,
then turned back to Gersen and Alice. "Now then—as for you—"

"Mrs. Cleadhoe, listen to me. Don't take Howard Treesong for
granted. He is clever and dangerous."

Tuty swung her heavy arm. "Bah. I know him well. He was a
haunted little milksop who bullied girls and little boys and finally
destroyed my Nimpy. He hasn't changed. Cleadhoe and I, ha-ha,
we're glad to see him. Now up with you, and remember, you're
nothing to me whatever." She herded them into the kitchen and
opened a door. "Into the cellar, quick-time."

Alice took Gersen's arm and dragged him through the door,
down a steep stairs, and into a concrete-walled space smelling of
strange molds, old paper, and condiments.

The door shut; the bolt jarred home. Gersen and Alice were

left in the darkness.

Gersen climbed back up the stairs and listened at the door.
Tuty had not moved. Gersen could picture her standing foursquare,
gun at the ready, balefully watching the door. A half minute passed;

the joists creaked as Tuty moved away.

Gersen groped around the head of the stairs, hoping to find a
light switch, without success. He thrust on the door, which creaked,
but withstood the relatively slight force he was able to apply from
his unbalanced position.

Gersen groped through the darkness. Floor joists above, oth-
erwise nothing substantial. He descended the ladder. Alice's voice
came muffled through the darkness. "There doesn't seem to be
much down here. I don't feel any other doors. Just cases full of old

junk."

"What I want is a plank or a length of timber," said Gersen.

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 945

"There's nothing but the cases, and some boxes and old rugs."

Gersen explored the cases. "Let's unload these things. If I can
stack them on the landing so that I can somehow get my back to
the door and my feet against the joists . . ."

Ten minutes later Gersen clambered up the rickety construc-
tion. "Don't stand below. This is quite precarious. . . . Ah." Lying
back, he put his shoulders to the door, kicked up, and found a joist
with his feet. He straightened his legs, thrusting with his thigh
muscles. The door burst open and Gersen tumbled backwards into
Tuty Cleadhoe's kitchen.

He picked himself up, helped Alice up the stairs, then paused
to sort through Tuty Cleadhoe's cutlery. He selected two heavy
knives, which he tucked into his belt, and netted a cleaver.

Alice found a cloth bag. "Put it in this. I'll carry it."

They went to the front door, looked up and down the street.
Seeing no one, they stepped out into the droning afternoon.

Keeping to the shadows the two set off toward the railcar ter-
minal: a cluster of dilapidated structures a hundred yards ahead.

"Tuty will be angry if things go wrong," Alice remarked. "She
is a vehement woman."

"She's a conniving old harridan," said Gersen. "Slowly now.
We don't want to be seen."

A heavy fetor assaulted their noses, a smell sour, ripe, rich, and
rank. Looking through the foliage they discovered the origin of the
odor. By a hopper stood a portly white-haired man with heavy-
lidded eyes and a placid expression. He controlled the flow of pink-
gray pulp sliding from the hopper into a vat on a railcar. He worked
a lever; the flow ceased. A small locomotive backed close and cou-
pled to the vat. Under the locomotive's observation cupola sat Tuty,
peering over her shoulder and manipulating the throttle.

The man at the hopper waved his arm, turned away, and walked
into a workshop. Tuty pulled back the throttle; the locomotive and
vat-car moved ahead. Howard Treesong raised himself and settled
into the goods compartment behind Tuty. From behind a bush
came two men: Schahar and Umps. They ran behind the vat-car,
swung themselves up to the small rear platform. The cars rolled
around a curve and out of sight.

Gersen went to the workshop. The portly man looked up and
gave a peremptory jerk of the thumb. "Sir, no public allowed here."

946 THE DEMON PRINCRS

"I'm not the public," said Gersen. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Clead-
hoe."

"You've missed her. She's just taken feed out to the station,
along with her nephew."

"We're in the same party. It seems we've arrived a bit too late.
Is there another locomotive which could make the trip?"

Joseph pointed to a rusty old mechanism, dented and bent, sup-
ported on blocks and bereft of wheels. "There's old Number Sev-
enteen, down for repair. One of these days I'll put on new drive
wheels, when time and money come together."

"How far is the outstation?"

"It's a good seventy miles by the track. Shorter airwise, but
there's not a flier in town. Quite illegal, for reasons of ecology and
frightening of the beasts."

"Seventy miles. Ten hours at a steady run."

"Ho ho!" chortled Joseph. "You'd run maybe a mile before an
eye would push up from the mud, then a messenger arm sixty feet
long, ending in grab-hooks, and away you'd go through the air,
over to the mud and down; and then what happens, who knows?
Devil a soul has come back to tell!"

Alice pointed across the shop. "What's that thing?"

"That's the track inspector's go-cart. It won't pull freight, but
she'll go lickety-split where the track is level."

Gersen walked around the contraption: a platform on four
wheels with a pair of cane seats under a hemispherical visor
splotched with the juices of smashed insects. The controls were
starkly simple: a pair of handles, two toggles, and a dial. "It's not
beautiful, but it rolls along fine," said Joseph with modest pride. "I
built it myself."

Gersen produced a crisp certificate, which he handed to Joseph.
"I would like to use the go-cart. Mr. Cleadhoe will be anxious to
see us. Is it ready to go?"

Joseph inspected the certificate. "It's not covered by regulation.
In fact—"

"There'll be another twenty for you tomorrow when we return.
The Cleadhoes wouldn't like to miss us, and that's more important
than regulation."

"You don't work for the Corporation! Nothing is more impor-
tant than regulation."

"Except life and money."

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

947

"True. Well, I hereby forbid you to use the cart. The black
handle is throttle, the red handle is brake. The toggle controls
switches in the track. The first fork to the left goes north to the
observation post at Salmi Swamp. The second fork goes right and
down to the breeding wallows of the red apes. The third fork
switches off through the feeding meadow and back around to the
station: so it's right, left, then either way. Now I'm going home,
and I'm not looking back. Still, remember, you've been warned off
the premises."

Joseph turned and marched from the shop. Gersen climbed
aboard the go-cart. He pushed the black lever; the can rolled for-
ward. Alice quickly jumped up beside him. Gersen advanced the
throttle; the cart rolled away from the station and into the jungle.

18

From Life, Volume II, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

"Intelligence" demands the most strict of definitions,
since the word is easily and often abused. Intelligence rates
the quality of Gaean man's competence at altering environ-
ment to suit his convenience, or, more generally, the so-
lution or problems. The corollaries to the idea are several.
Among them: In the absence of problems, intelligence can-
not be measured. A creature with a large, complicated brain
is not necessarily intelligent. Raw abstract intelligence is a
meaningless concept. Secondly, intelligence is a quality pe-
culiar to Gaean man. Certain alien races use different
mechanisms and processes optimally to rearrange their en-
vironment. These attributes occasionally resemble human
intelligence, and, on the basis of results achieved, the effec-
tive organs seem to serve analogous purposes. These simil-
itudes almost always are deceptive and of superficial
application. For the lack of a more precise and universal
term the temptation to use the word "intelligence" incor-
rectly is well-nigh irresistible, but can be countenanced only
when the word is set off by quotes, viz: my own monograph
(which I include in the appendix to Volume Eight of this
slight and by no means comprehensive series). Students se-
riously interested in these matters may well wish to consult
the monograph: A Comparison of Mathematical Processes as
Employed by Six "Intelligent" Alien Races.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

949

The vehicle had been built of odds and ends, scraps and make-
shifts. The right-hand stringer was a length of tungsten fiber pipe,
w^ile the left-hand stringer was hacked from jungle hardwood. A
slab oi magnesium hexafoam provided support for the seats, these
originally a sofa with orange and blue cushions. The hemispheric
windscreen was a reclaimed skylight; the wheels were a stock com-
missary item, for the repair of wheelbarrows, carts, and the like,
with a flange welded around the inner circumference. Despite all,
the vehicle ran smoothly and quietly, and Blue Forest Camp was
left behind.

For the first few miles the track led through a floral tunnel of
a hundred colors, permeated by shafts and sifts of afternoon light.
Drooping fronds, dead black on top, transmitted ruby red light;

other fronds showed gradations of blue, green, yellow. Stalks of
black-and-white tubing moved back and forth, thrusting their round
black fronds this way and that for maximum impingement of sun-
light. In open places moths floated on many-layered wisps of gos-
samer, black and crimson and lemon yellow. Other flying things,
golden blurs, darted past in a hiss of air.

The jungle became broken. The tracks led across clearings and
meadows dappled with ponds, each with its resident water bull:

great mottled creatures with horns and shovel-snouts, which they
used to enlarge their ponds. A trestle built of concrete posts and
timber laterals took the track across a series of bogs crusted over
with pale blue scum, or alternately a carpet of angry orange stalks
supporting spherical spore pods.

Beyond the bogs the ground rose to become a savanna. Ro-
dentlike creatures in carapaces armed with prongs and barbs grazed
the turf in bands of twenty or thirty. Often these were attended by
ten-foot bait-apes: white-skinned creatures splotched with black fur.
Sinuous black printhenes skulked through the meadows on splaved
legs. These were voracious, cunning, and capable of prodigious feats
of savagery7; still, they avoided the vile-smelling bait-apes.

The track led up a slope and ran across a plain of coarse black
and green grass clumped with thorn tree. Bands of spindly rumi-
nants wandered the open areas, nervously alert for printhenes or
packs of scalawags: ravening, pounding, yelping creatures half liz-
ard, half dog. A dozen kinds ot ruminants moved across the savanna,
the largest an armored monster twenty feet tall supported on a
dozen short legs. In the hazy northern distance a pair of apelike

•HIE DF.MON PRINCES

950

saurians thirty feet tall overlooked the landscape with an eerie sem-
blance of brooding intelligence. A mile to the south a flock of bird-
like bipeds fifteen feet tall, scarlet-crested, flaunting bright blue
tails, ran after a bewildered myriapod and hacked it to pieces with
beaks and spurs.

The tracks led directly across the plain, diving at half-mile in-
tervals under animal pass-throughs. The electric guards were now
paralleled by a second electric fence fifty feet to either side of the
track.

The sun hung low in the sky, sweeping the landscape with a
halcyon unreal illumination, and the creatures of the land, rather
than horrid reality, seemed more the subjects of an imaginary, if
macabre, bestiary.

The tracks stretched clear and empty; the feed train had passed
from view. Gersen pulled the throttle open; the cart lurched for-
ward at great velocity, jumping, bounding, and shivering to irreg-
ularities in the track. Gersen reluctantly reduced speed. "I don't
want to take this thing into a ditch. It's too heavy to carry out and
it's too far to walk."

Mile after mile, and still no sign of the feed train. To right and
left spread the savanna. Four double-headed browsers watched from
sensors at the ridge of their humps.

A mile ahead the track plunged into a dark forest; at the edge
of the shade sunlight glinted for an instant on the housing of the
locomotive.

"We're gaining," said Gersen.

"And what do we do when we catch up?" asked Alice.

"We won't catch up." Gersen estimated the distance ahead.
"We're only a few minutes behind. Still, I'd like to be a bit closer.
Howard won't be able to explain Schahar and Umps; there might
be trouble right away, unless he's a very smooth talker."

At the edge of the forest, the tracks wound back and forth to
avoid outcrops of rock. Gersen reduced speed, accelerating when
the tracks stretched empty ahead.

A post beside the track supported a white triangle; almost at
once the track switched, one fork leading to the north, the other
continuing directly east—the direction the feed train had taken, by
the evidence of the open points.

A mile along the track another fork led to the south; as before
the feed train had proceeded east. Gersen became even more vig-

THE HOOK OF DRE4MS 15

ilant; the feed train could not be far ahead. As before he increased
speed along straightaway^, cautiously slowing and peering around
curves.

Another white triangle appeared beside the track. "The third
fork," said Alice. "Station to the right, feed lot to the left."

Gersen braked the cart to a halt. "The feed train has gone left.
See the switch points? We'd better follow."

For half a mile the tracks led north through a forest. Gaps in
the foliage revealed yet another savanna stretching awav to the east.
The tracks curved east and slanted down upon the savanna.

Alice pointed. "There's the feed train!"

Gersen braked the cart to a halt. The feed train passed over an
unloading device, in an area unprotected by the electric fence. Tutv
stopped the locomotive, uncoupled the vat-car, and proceeded. A
valve in the bottom of the feed car opened, discharging the pulp
into a trough.

On the back of the car Schahar and Umps rose to their feet, to
stare in dismay after the departing locomotive: Then they turned
to examine the creatures which from all directions converged on
the feeding trough.

A twenty-foot halt-ape, with head half bear, half insect, lurched
forward at a shambling trot. Schahar and Umps jumped down and
ran toward a tree. The ape caught Umps and lifted him by the leg
into the air. Umps kicked out in a frenzy and drove his heel into
the creature's proboscis. It threw Umps to the ground, jumped up
and down on his torso, pounded the body with its fists. Then it
turned away and looked toward Schahar, now perched in the lower
branches of the tree, where he attracted the attention of a spiderlike
reptile which inhabited the upper branches. It dropped a long gray
arm which it swung toward Schahar, who yelled in alarm, drew a
knife, and hacked. When the spider-reptile descended by swift ac-
robatic swings, Schahar jumped to the ground, dodged to escape
the bait-ape, which then pulled at the spider-reptile's tentacle. The
spider-reptile jumped from the tree, wrapped itself around the bait-
ape's head, flourished high its sting, and thrust it home. The bait-
ape keened in pain, tore at the tentacles with monstrous arms. The
tentacles clutched tighter; the sting struck again. The ape banged
the spider-reptile into the tree trunk, again and again, reducing it
to pulp, and finally tore it loose. The ape staggered away, save a
convulsive bound, and fell into a heap. A band of scavengers, at-

THE UF.MON PRINCES

952

tracted by the outcries, loped forward. Noticing Schahar, they cir-
cled him, yelling, Jumping, biting, and Schahar presently was pulled
down to disappear under a seethe of animals.

Gersen spoke in a rueful voice. "Do you think Tuty knew that
those two were riding behind her?"

"I don't care to guess."

The train with Tuty and Howard Treesong had disappeared
into the jungle at the far side of the meadow. The feed car now
blocked the track. "We've got to go back to the fork," said Gersen.
He pulled on levers and toggles. "Where is reverse gear?"

He searched in vain. The throttle controlled forward motion;

the brake brought the car to a stop. Gersen jumped to the ground
and tried to lift one end of the cart, without success; it carried
ballast to hold it to the tracks. He tried to push the can, but the
slope defeated him.

"This is absurd," said Gersen. "There must be a way to go
backward. ... If I had a length of timber I could pry the car off the
tracks. But I'm afraid to go into the forest."

"It's getting dark," said Alice. "The sun is going down."

Gersen went to the edge of the track bed and looked into the
forest—high, low, right and left. "I don't see anything. . .. Here I
go."

"Wait," said Alice. "What is this little gadget here?"

Gersen returned to the cart. At the center of the platform a
handle turned a worm gear. "Alice, you are an intelligent girl. That
is a jack, which lifts the cart high enough so that we can swivel it
around, end for end."

Alice said modestly, "I thought that perhaps I might be helpful,
or even indispensable."

Five minutes later they returned the way they had come, to the
third switch, and now they turned east, and drove at full speed
through the twilight.

A mile, two miles, five miles . . . The forest abruptly became a
soggy moor. Ahead the sunset glimmered on a wide loop of river.
The track led across a bridge of metal bars, evidently electrified to
inhibit the creatures of the bog.

Inside the compound the track led past a commissary store, a
dispensary, and a row of six small cottages. A few yards farther stood
the laboratory, which overlooked the swamp and, beyond, Gorgon
River.

THE BOOK OF DRIiAMS

953

The track branched into a siding. Gersen coasted up behind the
locomotive and stopped. For a moment the two sat listening.
Silence.

At Blue Forest Camp Howard Treesong said in a voice of jovial
camaraderie: "The passenger compartment? Nonsense, I'll ride up
forward with you!"

"A pity, but it can't be done," said Tuty. "Suppose Superinten-
dent Kennifer should happen by? You sit in the back and crouch
till we're in the jungle. Then relax and enjoy the ride. Watch for
marshmallow moths and water flowers."

Treesong climbed into the compartment behind the driver's
cupola and made himself inconspicuous. The train moved away
from the terminal. If, from the corner of her wide-set eyes, Tuty
had noticed Schahar and Umps as they clambered aboard the swill
car, she gave no sign.

Through Jungle, across savanna, in and out of the dark forest,
rolled the feed train. At the third switch, Tuty swung north and
out upon the feed meadow, which was rarely used except when
biologists intended experiments. But tonight Tuty had decided to
feed the animals. Almost without halting the train she detached the
feed car. Howard Treesong jumped to his feet in the back com-
partment and stared out the rear window. Tuty Cleadhoe never so
much as looked over her shoulder. Howard Treesong, shoulders
sagging and ashen of face, sank once more into his seat.

The train trundled into the station, rolled across the compound,
and halted beside the laboratory.

Tuty climbed to the ground, grunting and wheezing. Howard
Treesong alighted from the passenger compartment and stood
looking around the compound.

Tuty called out in a brassy voice: "So then, Howard! How did
you find our lovely countryside?"

"It's not at all like dear old Gladbetook. Still, it's quite pictur-
esque."

"True. Well then, let's find if Mr. Cleadhoe is expecting us
with a nice supper. I do hope he's put out his pets. He's a wonder
with animals, is Mr. Cleadhoe. Come along, Howard, the night
bugs will be after us in another minute."

Tuty led the way to the laboratory. She slid back the door.

954 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Otho, we're here! Make sure Ditsy is out. Howard won't care to
be annoyed by any of your charmers. Otho? Are you about?"

A gruff voice said: "Tush, woman, of course I'm about. Come
in. ... So this is young Howard Hardoah."

"Isn't he changed? You'd never recognize him!"

"That's a fact." Otho Cleadhoe stepped forward on long thin
legs, standing six inches taller than Howard Treesong. Cleadhoe's
great head was bald on top, harsh and craggy, with an untidy ton-
sure of gray hair, a stained gray beard, and eyes in deep lavender
sockets. He fixed Howard Treesong with a long stare of impersonal
appraisal. Howard ignored the inspection and looked around the
room. "And this is your laboratory? I'm told that you're now an
important scientist."

"Ha, not altogether. I'm still a practitioner of my old trade, but
now both my subjects and my methods are different. Come along,
I'll show you some of my work while Mrs. Cleadhoe puts out our
soup."

Tuty called out in a voice of brassy jocularity: "Ten minutes,
then, and no more! You've all evening to show off your trophies!"

"Ten minutes, my dear. Come, Howard .. . Through here, and
watch your head. These arches weren't built for tall men. Let me
take your hat."

"I'll wear it, if I may," said Treesong. "I am very sensitive to
drafts."

"A pity. . . Well then, along this route we take Tanaquil dig-
nitaries who come to learn how we spend the public money. I might
add that they never leave dissatisfied. This is the Chamber of As-
tinches."

Howard Treesong inspected the room with his eyes heavy-
lidded. Otho Cleadhoe, if he noticed Treesong's unenthusiastic
manner, paid no heed. "These are all varieties of astinche, the Be-
thune andromorphs, a local evolutionary development. The genus
is especially rich on Shanar and in this particular neighborhood.
They vary in size up to the thirty-foot giant you see there." He
indicated an alcove. "I processed the creature almost single-handed,
with trifling help from my staff. I worked in an atmosphere of ar-
gon, under germicidal conditions. I skinned the beast, marmelized
the soft tissues, reinforced the skeletal frame, and refitted the pelt."

"Remarkable," said Treesong. "A fine piece of work."

"They are amazing creatures, agile for their size. We often see

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS 955

them capering across the distance. . . . These others over here are
its cousins, or so we believe. Do you know, there are still mysteries
regarding these creatures? How they breed, how they develop, how
they order their body chemistry? All mysteries! But I won't bore
you with technical details. As you see, they come in every size, every
color. 'Intelligence'? Who knows? Some are clever, some—"

A blur of motion, a cry of annoyance from Howard Treesong,
as down from one of the alcoves jumped a creature eight feet tall
with thin arms and legs, to snatch Treesong's hat and bound from
the room.

Otho Cleadhoe laughed a croak of indulgent amusement.
"Clever: yes. Mischievous: yes. Intelligent? Who knows? That is
Ditsy, who is full of tricks. I'm afraid your hat is gone. I'll have to
replace it."

Howard Treesong ran to the door and peered through.
"What's got into the beast? It put my hat in the fire!"

"It's a pity, for certain. I can't apologize enough. Ditsy, outside!
What can you mean, acting in such a way? He's destroyed your
fine hat. If your head becomes cold, please say so. Tuty can provide
a hood, or a shawl."

"No great matter."

"Ditsy must be punished, and I will see to it. The creature is
attracted to bright colors and makes a mischief with guests. Perhaps
I should have warned you."

"No matter. I have a dozen hats."

"None other so splendid, I'll warrant! Well, it's a pity. . . .
Through here now. We leave the Chamber of Astinches for the
Hall of Swamp-Walkers."

Howard Treesong showed only a cursory interest in the twenty
purple and black creatures with their odd cloaks of woven vegeta-
tion. "A very representative collection," said Otho Cleadhoe.
"They are found only along the Gorgon River. . . . Now to the Den
of Horrors, as I call my workshop. It never fails to impress."

Cleadhoe led the now bored and languid Howard Treesong
into a room illuminated by a high glass cupola. A central platform
supported a massive red-and-black creature with six legs and a fe-
rocious head.

"An awesome beast," said Treesong.

"Quite so. And an awesome project—the largest of my expe-
rience. Yonder is my office—a dismal sort of place, but the Cor-

THE DEMON PRINCES

956

poration won't spare me anything better. Your little book is there
and we'll pick it up presently."

"Why not now?" suggested Treesong. "Since it's close at

hand?"

"As you like. It's on my desk, if you care to fetch it. Now then,
I wonder! Do you think that here and there the hide tends to sag
across the haunches?"

Howard Treesong had gone to the side chamber. On the desk
lay a small red volume inscribed The Book of Dreams. Treesong
stepped forward; the door closed behind him. Out in the workshop
Otho Cleadhoe turned a valve, waited fifteen seconds, then turned
it off. Tuty Cleadhoe looked into the workshop. "The soup is ready.
Do you care to eat?"

"I'll be busy," said Cleadhoe. "I don't care to eat."

19

Navarth sat drinking wine with an aged acquaintance who
bemoaned the brevity of existence. "I have left to me at the
most ten years of life!"

"That is sheer pessimism," declared Navarth. "Think
optimistically, rather, of the ten hundred billion years of
death that await you!"

—from Chronicles of Navarth,
by Carol Lewis

Navarth despised latter-day poetry, save only those
verses composed by himself. "These are faded times. Wis-
dom and innocence once were allied, and noble songs were
sung. I recall a couplet, by no means sublime—quaint,
rather—succinct, yet reverberating a thousand meanings:

A farting horse will never dre.
A farting man's the man to hire.
Where is the like today?

—from Chronicles of Navarth,
by Carol Lewis

Gersen and Alice went quickly through the dark to the laboratory.
The night was warm, clear, and dark, illuminated by thousands of
lambent stars. From the swamp and the jungle came sounds: a far
strident howl and, uncomfortably near, a grunting bellow of rage.

Light shone from a window; Gersen and Alice watched Tuty
Cleadhoe moving around in the kitchen. She sliced bread, sausage,
and ramp; she stirred the contents of a kettle and set out imple-
ments at a table.

THE DKMON PRINCRS

958

Gersen muttered: "For two? Who won't be taking supper?"

"She seems quite placid," whispered Alice. "Perhaps we can just
knock on the door and ask if we're in time for supper."

"That's as good a plan as any." Gersen tried the door latch,
then knocked. In the kitchen Tuty stiffened, then darted to a side-
board, tucked a weapon into her pocket. She went to a communi-
cator, spoke, heard a few guttural words, then turned, marched to
the front door, and threw it open, her hand close to her gun.

"Hello, Mrs. Cleadhoe," said Gersen. "Are we too late for the

party?"

Tutv Cleadhoe stared grimly from one to the other. "Why did
you not stay where I left you? Are you impervious to reason? Can
you not understand when your presence is unwanted?"

"All this to the side, Mrs. Cleadhoe, you failed to honor our
agreement."

Tuty Cleadhoe showed a small quick smile. "Perhaps I did;

what then? You'd have done the same to me, had you fixed on it."
She looked over her shoulder. "Come in then. Wrangle with Mr.
Cleadhoe if you like."

She led them into the kitchen. Otho Cleadhoe stood at the sink,
carefully washing his hands. He swung around and surveyed Gersen
and Alice from the depths of his lavender eye sockets. "Visitors,
eh? Tonight I'm busy or I'd show you around."

"That's not why we're here. Where is Howard Treesong?"

Cleadhoe jerked his thumb. "Back yonder. He's safe. And now
I'll want my supper. Wi\[ you eat?"

"Sit down," said Tuty, with automatic if graceless hospitality.
"There's enough for all."

"Eat," said Cleadhoe in a cavernous bass voice. "We will talk
of Howard Hardoah. Did you know he killed our Nymphotis?"

Gersen and Alice seated themselves at the table. "He's killed
many people," said Gersen.

"W^hat would you have done with him? Killed him in return?"

"Yes."

Cleadhoe nodded ponderously. "Well, you shall have your
chance. I took him into a still room and turned gas on him. He'll
be awake in about six hours."

"So you haven't killed him?"

"Oh no." Cleadhoe's smile broke a pink gap through the beard.

THE BOOK OF DRK4MS

959

"Life is awareness and Howard Hardoah should become more
broadly aware. Perhaps in time he will repent his crimes."

"Possibly so," said Gersen. "Still, you have not kept good faith
with us."

Cleadhoe glanced at him uncomprehendingly, then resumed his
chewing. "Perhaps in our emotion we acted less than politely. But
postpone your annoyance. You shall take part in the ultimate judg-
ment."

Tuty cried out: "And don't forget, we guarded you from harm!
Howard brought two of his murderers with him. Ha, but they will
murder no more!"

Otho Cleadhoe smiled approvingly, as if Tuty had been de-
scribing the recipe for her soup. He said, "Howard is crafty! Imag-
ine this: he carried a weapon in his hat! I instructed Ditsy to snatch
away the hat and destroy it. As Mrs. Cleadhoe says, we have done
our share in the work."

Neither Gersen nor Alice had any comment to offer.

"In about six hours Howard will recover his faculties," said
Cleadhoe. "In the meantime, you may rest, or sleep, or examine
the collections, or you may sit comfortably, drink tea, or brandy,
and tell us of the harms you have suffered from Howard Hardoah."

Gersen looked at Alice. "WT-iat of you?"

"I can't sleep. Mr. and Mrs. Cleadhoe might like to hear of the
school reunion at Gladbetook."

"Aye, that we would indeed."

At midnight Otho Cleadhoe left the kitchen. Twenty minutes later
he returned. "Howard is returning to consciousness. If you like,
you can come."

The group filed through the laboratory, and along a corridor.
Cleadhoe halted beside a door. "Listen! He speaks."

Through a mesh came the sounds of a colloquy.

First came Howard Treesong's voice, clear and strong, but puz-
zled and fretful: "—an impasse, like a wall; I can neither advance
nor retire, nor yet sidle away. . . . The sunrise is here. We are lost
in the jungle. Take care, let none stray aside. Paladins? Who hears
my voice?"

The responses came quickly; the voices almost seemed to over-
lap, as if several spoke together.

960

THE DKMON FRINGES

"Mewness stands by your side." This, a calm, clear voice, pre-
cise and without passion.

"Spangleway here, among the apes."
"Rhune Fader the Blue, and Hohenger and Black Jeha Rais: all

are here."

A thin, cool voice spoke. "Eia Panice is here."

"And Immir?"

"I am here till the end."

"Immir, you are steadfast, like all the rest. Now, to set a wise
strategy. Jeha Rais, you are grave."

The deep voice of Jeha Rais, the black paladin, sounded: "I am
grave and more than grave. After these mighty years did you not
recognize him?"

Immir: (troubled)

He called himself Cleadhoe of Dandelion Farm.

Jeha Rais:

He is the Dree.
A few seconds of silence.

Immir: (softly)

Then we are in desperate condition.
Rhune Fader:

We have known desperate times before. Remember the
course at Ilkhad? It was enough to daunt the Iron Giant,
yet we won through.
Spangleway:

I recall the ambush in Massilia Old Town. A dreadful

hour!
Immir:

Brothers, let us fix our thoughts on this moment only.

Jeha Rais:

The Dree is a brute of malevolence. To shift his force
we need counterforce. Can we offer wealth?
Immir:

I will open our treasury. He can own Sybaris, for all of

me.
Mewness:

It will not tempt the Dree.
Loris Hohenger:

Offer a doxen maidens, each more beautiful than the
last. Let them wear gowns of sheer diaphane and regard

THE BOOK OF DREAMS 961

him with gazes neither gay nor grave, as if they asked,
"Who Is this marvel? WTio is this demigod?"
Immir: (laughing sadly)

Good Hohenger, the concept moves you! I suspect that
you would throw your brother paladins into Lake Chill to
take part in such a parade.
Mewness:

Not the Dree.
Spangleway:

Wealth, beauty—what is left?
Rhune Fader:

If only we had Valkaris's Cup and eternal youth!
Immir: (in a mutter)

Complications, complexities. I sense a devilish plot.
Rhune Fader:

Silence all! Someone stands outside the door!

Cleadhoe spoke in a whisper: "He is half-awake; he talks as if
he were dreaming. .. ." He slid back the door. "Enter."

Half the room was bare and dim; the other half had been
planted and worked to simulate a jungle glade. Light slanted down
through a hundred sorts of foliage. On gnarled tendrils hung flow-
ers, bug-catchers, and spore pods. A stream passed through rocks,
forming a small pool, which drained through dark red reeds into
an unseen outlet. Beside the pool, in an armchair, sat Howard Alan
Treesong, nude except for a short skirt around his hips. His hands
rested on the arms of the chair; his legs, which were stark and glossy
white, rested on the turf. His head had been shaved bald. Across
the pool on a bank of turf reclined the marmel of Nymphotis. In
the bushes moved a half dozen small astinches, with faces formed
of mottled red-and-blue cartilage, crests like small black hats, and
glossy black pelts. The presence of Howard Treesong interested
them; they watched and listened with respectful attention.

The colloquy had ended; Howard's eyes glinted under half-
closed lids; his breathing seemed normal.

Cleadhoe spoke to Gersen and Alice. "This originally was a
display cage for the little astinches. They are called 'puppet man-
darins,' and are strange little creatures. Don't go too close; there is
a mesh of invisible pin-rays which will sting you. It seemed a fine
place to maintain Howard."

962 THE DEMON PRINCES

"You have marmelized his legs."

"Quite so. He is immobile, and he must gaze at Nymphotis
whom he murdered. This is our judgment upon him. Whatever
additional punishment you or Alice Wroke wish to apply, I shall
not object. It is your right."

Gersen asked, "How long will he live like this?"

Cleadhoe shook his head. "That is hard to predict. His natural
functions continue but he is immovably anchored. His hair, inci-
dentally, concealed a mesh of circuitry. There are no implants or
internal weapons; I have made sure of this!"

Treesong's eyes were open. He looked down at his legs, moved
his hands, felt the cool material which now composed the sheathing
of his upper thighs.

Cleadhoe spoke: "Howard Alan Treesong, we, from among all
your numberless victims, are now working retribution upon you."

Tuty cried out in a rich contralto: "There he is, our son Nym-
photis, and there sit you, Howard Hardoah, his murderer. Reflect
upon your evil deed."

Howard Treesong spoke in an even voice: "I have been well
and truly trapped. And who are these other two? Alice Wroke?
What brings you here among these zealots?"

"I am one of them. Do you not remember what you asked of
me, to save the life of my father? When you already had taken his
life?"

"My dear Alice, when one deals in high policy, one sometimes
overlooks nice details. Your father's death and your services were
both elements in a larger design. And you, sir? Your semblance is
disturbingly familiar."

"It should be. You have met me several times. Both at Voymont
and at Gladbetook I had the pleasure of shooting you, unfortunately
not to serious effect. You also know me as Henry Lucas, of Extant.
I am responsible for enticing you here through your Book of Dreams.
But let me take your memory even farther back. Do you recall the
raid on Mount Pleasant?"

"I remember the episode, yes. It was a remarkable exercise."

"I saw you for the first time on that occasion, and I have de-
voted my life to arranging this confrontation."

"Indeed? You are a fanatic."

"You have the faculty for creating fanatics."

THE BOOK OF DRE-IA4S

Howard Treesong made an easy gesture. "So now I am at your

mercy. How will you deal with me?"

Gersen laughed sourly. "What more could I do to you?"
"Well—there is always torture. Or you might take pleasure in

killing me."

"I have destroyed you as a man. That is enough."
Howard Alan Treesong's head drooped. "My life has run its

course. I intended to rule the human universe. I would have been

first Emperor of the Gaean Worlds. I almost did so. Now I am

tired. I cannot move and I will not live long. . . . Leave me now. I

prefer to be alone."

Gersen turned and, taking Alice's arm, left the room. The

Cleadhoes followed. The door closed. Almost at once the colloquy

began:

Immir:

Now all is known. The Dree has done a terrible deed.
Oh my paladins, what now? What say you-, Jeha Rais?
Rais:

The time has come.
Immir:

How so? Green Mewness, why do you turn away?
MeTuness:

There are long roads yet to be traveled and many an
inn where I would take refuge.
Immir:

Why do you all look this way and that? Are we not all
brothers and paladins? Jeha Rais, make for us a great strat-
egy, to move these marmel legs.
Spangleway:

Immir, I bid you farewell.
Rais:

Farewell, Immir. The time has come.
Immir:

Loris Hohenger, are you deserting me too?
Hohnenger:

I must be away, to far places and new battles.
Im mir:

And sweet Blue Fader, what of you? .And you, F.ia Pan-
ice?

964 THE DEMON PRINCES

Panice:

I will do my brotherly best for you. Paladins, turn back!
A single deed remains to be done. Farewell, noble Immir!
And now . . .

In the corridor the four heard a thud, a splash. Cleadhoe ran
to the door, threw it aside. The great chair had toppled; Howard
Alan Treesong lay in a grotesque heap, face down in the pool.

Cleadhoe turned, his nostrils flaring, his eyes aglitter. He made
a wild gesticulation. "The chair was solidly fixed! He could not have
toppled it alone!"

Gersen turned away. "Whatever has happened, it is enough for
me." He took Alice's arm. "Let's go somewhere else."

20

In the FHtterwing and traveling space, Alice picked up The Book of
Dreams, then at once put it down again. "What will you do with
it?"

"I don't know . . . give it to Cosmopolis, I suppose."

"Wliy not just put it out into space?"

"I can't do that."

Alice put her hands on his shoulder. "And now, what of you?"

"What of me, how?"

"You're so quiet and subdued! You worry me. Are you well?"

"Quite well. Deflated, perhaps. I have been deserted by my
enemies. Treesong is dead. The affair is over. I am done."