"You're lying to your people," Stark said flatly. "You're making false
promises, to lead them into war."
Kynon was genuinely puzzled by Stark's anger. "But of course!" he
said. "Is there anything new or strange in that?"
Luhar spoke up, his voice acid with hate. "Watch out for him, Kynon.
He'll sell you out, he'll cut your throat, if he thinks it best for the
barbarians."
Delgaun said, "Stark's reputation is known all over the system. There's
no need to tell us that again."
"No." Kynon shook his head, looking very candidly at Stark. "We sent
for you, didn't we, knowing that? All right."
He stepped back a little, so that the others were included in what he
was going to say.
"My people have a just cause for war. They go hungry and thirsty, while
the City-States along the Dryland Border hog all the water sources and
grow fat. Do you know what it means to watch your children die crying
for water on a long march, to come at last to the oasis and find the
well sanded in by a storm, and go on again, trying to save your people
and your herd? Well, I do! I was born and bred in the Drylands, and
many a time I've cursed the border states with a tongue like a dry
stick.
"Stark, you should know the workings of the barbarian mind as well
as I do. The men of Kesh and Shun are traditional enemies. Raiding
and thieving, open warfare over water and grass. I had to give them a
rallying point--a faith strong enough to unite them. Resurrecting the
Rama legend was the only hope I had.
"And it has worked. The tribes are one people now. They can go on and
take what belongs to them--the right to live. I'm not really so far out
in my promises, at that. Now do you understand?"
* * * * *
Stark studied him, with his cold cat-eyes. "Where do the men of Valkis
come in--the men of Jekkara and Barrakesh? Where do _we_ come in, the
hired bravoes?"
Kynon smiled. It was a perfectly sincere smile, and it had no humor in
it, only a great pride and a cheerful cruelty.
"We're going to build an empire," he said softly. "The City-States are
disorganized, too starved or too fat to fight. And Earth is taking us
over. Before long, Mars will be hardly more than another Luna.
"We're going to fight that. Drylander and Low-Canaller together, we're
going to build a power out of dust and blood--and there will be loot in
plenty to go round."
"That's where my men come in," said Delgaun, and laughed. "We
Low-Canallers live by rapine."
"And you," said Kynon, "the 'hired bravoes', are in it to help. I
need you and the Venusian, Stark, to train my men, to plan campaigns,
to give me all you know of guerrilla fighting. Knighton has a fast
cruiser. He'll bring us supplies from outside. Walsh is a genius, they
tell me, at fashioning weapons. Themis is a mechanic, and also the
cleverest thief this side of hell--saving your presence, Delgaun! Arrod
organized and bossed the Brotherhood of the Little Worlds, which had
the Space Patrol going mad for years. He can do the same for us. So
there you have it. Now, Stark, what do you say?"
The Earthman answered slowly, "I'll go along with you--as long as no
harm comes to the tribes."