The office was that of the new prime minister of the Acquataine
Cluster. It had been loaned to Leoh for his conversation with Sir
Harold Spencer. For the moment, it seemed like a great double room:
half of it was dark, warm woods, rich draperies, floor-to-ceiling
bookcases. The other half, from the tri-di screen onward, was the
austere, metallic utility of a starship compartment.
Spencer was saying, “So this hired assassin, after killing four men
and nearly wrecking a government, has returned to his native worlds.”
Leoh nodded. “He returned under guard. I suppose he is in disgrace, or
perhaps even under arrest.”
“Servants of a dictator never know when they will be the ones who are
served—on a platter.” Spencer chuckled. “And the Watchman who
assisted you, this Junior Lieutenant Hector, what of him?”
“He’s not here just now. The Dulaq girl has him in tow, somewhere.
Evidently it’s the first time he’s been a hero—”
Spencer shifted his weight in his chair. “I have long prided myself on
the conviction that any Star Watch officer can handle almost any kind
of emergency anywhere in the galaxy. From your description of the past
few weeks, I was beginning to have my doubts. However, Junior
Lieutenant Hector seems to have won the day ... almost in spite of
himself.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Leoh said, smiling. “He turned out to be an
extremely valuable man. I think he will make a fine officer.”
Spencer grunted an affirmative.
“Well,” Leoh said, “that’s the complete story, to date. I believe that
Odal is finished. But the Kerak Worlds have made good their annexation
of the Szarno Confederacy, and the Acquataine Cluster is still very
wobbly, politically. We haven’t heard the last of Kanus—not by a long
shot.”
Spencer lifted a shaggy eyebrow. “Neither,” he rumbled, “has _he_ heard
the last from _us_.”
* * * * *