IV

The dice rattled down onto the table and came to a halt. Prince Torric

swore good-naturedly and shoved the pile of coins toward Flandry. "I

just can't win," he laughed. "You have the gods with you, human."

_For a slave, I'm not doing so badly_, thought Flandry. _In fact, I'm

getting rich_. "Fortune favors the weak, highness," he smiled. "The

strong don't need luck."

"To Theudagaar with titles," said the young warrior. He was drunk;

wine flushed his open face and spread in puddles on the table before

him. "We're too good friends by now, Dominic. Ever since you got my

affairs in order--"

"I have a head for figures, and of course Terrestrial education

helps--Torric. But you need money."

"There'll be enough for all when we hold the Empire. I'll have a whole

system to rule, you know."

Flandry pretended surprise. "Only a system? After all, a son of King

Penda--"

"Cerdic's doing," Torric scowled blackly. "The dirty avagar persuaded

Father that only one--himself, of course--should succeed to the throne.

He said no kingdom ever lasted when the sons divided power equally."

"It seems very unfair. And how does he know he's the best?"

"He's the oldest. That's what counts. And he's conceited enough to be

sure of it." Torric gulped another beakerful.

"The Empire has a better arrangement. Succession is by ability alone,

among many in a whole group of families."

"Well--the old ways--what can I do?"

"That's hardly warrior's talk, Torric. Admitting defeat so soon--I

thought better of you!"

"But what to _do_--?"

"There are ways. Cerdic's power, like that of all chiefs, rests on his

many supporters and his own household troops. He isn't well liked.

It wouldn't be hard to get many of his friends to give allegiance

elsewhere."

"But--treachery--would you make a brotherslayer of me?"

"Who said anything about killing? Just--dislodging, let us say. He

could always have a system or two to rule, just as he meant to give

you."

"But--look, I don't know anything about your sneaking Terrestrial ways.

I suppose you mean to dish--disaffect his allies, promise them more

than he gives.... What's that word--bribery?--I don't know a thing

about it, Dominic. I couldn't do it."

"You wouldn't have to do it," murmured Flandry. "I could help. What's

a man for, if not to help his friends?"

* * * * *

Earl Morgaar, who held the conquered Zanthudian planets in fief,

was a noble of power and influence beyond his station. He was also

notoriously greedy.

He said to Captain Flandry: "Terrestrial, your suggestions about

farming out tax-gathering have more than doubled my income. But now the

natives are rising in revolt against me, murdering my troops wherever

they get a chance and burning their farms rather than pay the levies.

What do they do about that in the Empire?"

"Surely, sir, you could crush the rebels with little effort," said

Flandry.

"Oh, aye, but dead men don't pay tribute either. Isn't there a better

way? My whole domain is falling into chaos."

"Several ways, sir." Flandry sketched a few of them--puppet native

committees, propaganda shifting the blame onto some scapegoat, and the

rest of it. He did not add that these methods work only when skillfully

administered.

"It is well," rumbled the earl at last. His hard gaze searched

Flandry's impassively smiling face. "You've made yourself useful to

many a Scothanian leader since coming here, haven't you? There's that

matter of Nartheof--he's a great man now because he captured that

Imperial arsenal. And there are others. But it seems much of this gain

is at the expense of other Scothani, rather than of the Empire. I still

wonder about Nornagast's death--"

"History shows that the prospect of great gain always stirs up internal

strife, sir," said Flandry. "It behooves the strong warrior to seize a

dominant share of power for himself and so reunite his people against

their common enemy. Thus did the early Terrestrial emperors end the

civil wars and become the rulers of the then accessible universe."

"Ummm--yes. Gain--power--wealth--aye, some _good_ warrior--"

"Since we are alone, sir," said Flandry, "perhaps I may remark that

Scotha itself has seen many changes of dynasty."

"Yes--of course, I took an oath to the king. But suppose, just suppose

the best interests of Scothania were served by a newer and stronger

family--"

They were into details of the matter within an hour. Flandry suggested

that Prince Kortan would be a valuable ally--but beware of Torric, who

had ambitions of his own--

* * * * *

There was a great feast given at the winter solstice. The town and the

palace blazed with light and shouted with music and drunken laughter.

Warriors and nobles swirled their finest robes about them and boasted

of the ruin they would wreak in the Empire. It was to be noted that the

number of alcoholic quarrels leading to bloodshed was unusually high

this year, especially among the upper classes.

There were enough dark corners, though. Flandry stood in one, a niche

leading to a great open window, and looked over the glittering town

lights to the huge white hills that lay silent beyond, under the

hurtling moons. Above were the stars, bright with the frosty twinkle of

winter; they seemed so near that one could reach a hand up and pluck

them from the sky. A cold breeze wandered in from outside. Flandry

wrapped his cloak more tightly about him.

A light footfall sounded on the floor. He looked about and saw Gunli

the queen. Her tall young form was vague in the shadow, but a shaft of

moonlight lit her face with an unearthly radiance. She might have been

a lovely girl of Terra, save for the little horns and--well--

_These people aren't really human. They look human, but no people of

Terra were ever so--simple-minded!_ Then with an inward grin: _But you

don't expect a talent for intrigue in women, Terrestrial or Scothan.

So the females of this particular species are quite human enough for

anyone's taste._

The cynical mirth faded into an indefinable sadness. He--damn it, he

liked Gunli. They had laughed together often in the last few months,

and she was honest and warm-hearted and--well, no matter, no matter.

"Why are you here all alone, Dominic?" she asked. Her voice was very

quiet, and her eyes seemed huge in the cold pale moonlight.

"It would hardly be prudent for me to join the party," he answered

wryly. "I'd cause too many fights. Half of them out there hate my

insides."

"And the other half can't do without you," she smiled. "Well, I'm as

glad not to be there myself. These Frithians are savages. At home--"

She looked out the window and there were suddenly tears glittering in

her eyes.

"Don't weep, Gunli," said Flandry softly. "Not tonight. This is the

night the sun turns, remember. There is always new hope in a new year."

"I can't forget the old years," she said with a bitterness that shocked

him.

Understanding came. He asked quietly: "There was someone else, wasn't

there?"

"Aye. A young knight. But he was of low degree, so they married me

off to Penda, who is old and chill. And Jomana was killed in one of

Cerdic's raids--" She turned her head to look at him, and a pathetic

attempt at a smile quivered on her lips. "It isn't Jomana, Dominic. He

was very dear to me, but even the deepest wounds heal with time. But I

think of all the other young men, and their sweethearts--"

"It's what the men want themselves."

"But not what the women want. Not to wait and wait and wait till the

ships come back, never knowing whether there will only be his shield

aboard. Not to rock her baby in her arms and know that in a few years

he will be a stiffened corpse on the shores of some unknown planet.

Not--well--" She straightened her slim shoulders. "Little I can do

about it."

"You are a very brave and lovely woman, Gunli," said Flandry. "Your

kind has changed history ere this." And he sang softly a verse he had

made in the Scothan bardic form:

"_So I see you standing,_

_sorrowful in darkness._

_But the moonlight's broken_

_by your eyes tear-shining--_

_moonlight in the maiden's_

_magic net of tresses._

_Gods gave many gifts, but,_

_Gunli, yours was greatest._"

Suddenly she was in his arms....

* * * * *

Sviffash of Sithafar was angry. He paced up and down the secret

chamber, his tail lashing about his bowed legs, his fanged jaws

snapping on the accented Scothanian words that poured out.

"Like a craieex they treat me!" he hissed. "I, king of a planet and an

intelligent species, must bow before the dirty barbarian Penda. Our

ships have the worst positions in the fighting line and the last chance

at loot. The swaggering Scothani on Sithafar treat my people as if they

were conquered peasants, not warrior allies. It is not to be endured!"

Flandry remained respectfully silent. He had carefully nursed the

reptile king's smoldering resentment along ever since the being had

come to Iuthagaar for conference, but he wanted Sviffash to think it

was all his own idea.

"By the Dark God, if I had a chance I think I'd go over to the Terran

side!" exploded Sviffash. "You say they treat their subjects decently?"

"Aye, we've learned it doesn't pay to be prejudiced about race, your

majesty. In fact, many nonhumans hold Terrestrial citizenship. And

of course a vassal of the Empire remains free within his own domain,

except in certain matters of trade and military force where we must

have uniformity. And he has the immeasurable power and wealth of the

Empire behind and with him."

"My own nobles would follow gladly enough," said Sviffash. "They'd

sooner loot Scothanian than Terrestrial planets, if they didn't fear

Penda's revenge."

"Many other of Scotha's allies feel likewise, your majesty. And still

more would join an uprising just for the sake of the readily available

plunder, if only they were sure the revolt would succeed. It is a

matter of getting them all together and agreeing--"

"And you have contacts everywhere, Terrestrial. You're like a spinner

weaving its web. Of course, if you're caught I shall certainly insist I

never had anything to do with you."

"Of course, your majesty."

"But if it works--hah!" The lidless black eyes glittered and a forked

tongue flickered out between the horny lips. "Hah, the sack of Scotha!"

"No, your majesty. It is necessary that Scotha be spared. There will be

enough wealth to be had on her province planets."

"Why?" The question was cold, emotionless.

"Because you see, your majesty, we will have Scothan allies who

will cooperate only on that condition. Some of the power-seeking

nobles ... and then there is a southern nationalist movement which

wishes separation from the Frithian north ... and I may say that it has

the secret leadership of the queen herself...."

* * * * *

Flandry's eyes were as chill as his voice: "It will do you no good to

kill me, Duke Asdagaar. I have left all the evidence with a reliable

person who, if I do not return alive, or if I am killed later, will

take it directly to the king and the people."

The Scothan's hands clenched white about the arms of his chair.

Impotent rage shivered in his voice: "You devil! You crawling worm!"

"Name-calling is rather silly coming from one of your history," said

Flandry. "A parricide, a betrayer of comrades, a breaker of oaths, a

mocker of the gods--I have all the evidence, Duke Asdagaar. Some of

it is on paper, some is nothing but the names of scattered witnesses

and accomplices each of whom knows a little of your career. And a man

without honor, on Scotha, is better dead. In fact, he soon will be."

"But how did you learn--?" Hopelessness was coming into the duke's

tone; he was beginning to tremble a little.

"I have my ways. For instance, I learned quite a bit by cultivating the

acquaintance of your slaves and servants. You highborn forget that the

lower classes have eyes and ears, and that they talk among themselves."

"Well--" The words were almost strangled. "What do you want?"

"Help for certain others. You have powerful forces at your disposal--"

* * * * *

Spring winds blew softly through the garden and stirred the trees to

rustling. There was a deep smell of green life about them; a bird was

singing somewhere in the twilight, and the ancient promise of summer

stirred in the blood.

Flandry tried to relax in the fragrant evening, but he was too

tense--his nerves were drawn into quivering wires and he had grown thin

and hollow-eyed. So too had Gunli, but it seemed only to heighten her

loveliness; it had more than a hint of the utterly alien and remote now.

"Well, the spaceship is off," said the man. His voice was weary.

"Aethagir shouldn't have any trouble getting to Ifri, and he's a clever

lad--he'll find a way to deliver my letter to Admiral Walton." He

scowled, and a nervous tic began over his left eye. "But the timing is

so desperately close. If our forces strike too soon, or too late, it

can be ruinous."

"I don't worry about that, Dominic," said Gunli. "You know how to

arrange these things."

"I've never handled an empire before, my beautiful. The next several

days will be touch and go. And that's why I want you to leave Scotha

now. Take a ship and some trusty guards and go to Alagan or Gimli or

some other out-of-the-way planet." He smiled with one corner of his

mouth. "It would be a bitter victory if you died in it, Gunli."

Her voice was haunted. "I should die. I've betrayed my lord--I am

dishonored--"

"You've saved your people--your own southerners, and ultimately all

Scotha."

"But the broken oaths--" She began to weep, quietly and hopelessly.

"An oath is only a means to an end. Don't let the means override the

end."

"An oath is an oath. But Dominic--it was a choice of standing by Penda

or by--you--"

He comforted her as well as he could. And he reflected grimly that he

had never before felt himself so thoroughly a skunk.

V

The battle in space was, to the naked eye, hardly visible--brief

flashes of radiation among the swarming stars, occasionally the dark

form of a ship slipping by and occulting a wisp of the Milky Way.

But Admiral Walton smiled with cold satisfaction at the totality of

reports given him by the semantic integrator.

"We're mopping them up," he said. "Our task force has twice their

strength, and they're disorganized and demoralized anyway."

"Whom are we fighting?" wondered Chang, the executive officer.

"Don't know for sure. They've split into so many factions you can

never tell who it is. But from Flandry's report, I'd say it was--what

was that outlandish name now?--Duke Markagrav's fleet. He holds

this sector, and is a royalist. But it might be Kelry, who's also

anti-Terrestrial--but at war with Markagrav and in revolt against the

king."

"Suns and comets and little green asteroids!" breathed Chang. "This

Scothanian hegemony seems just to have disintegrated. Chaos! Everybody

at war with everybody else, and hell take the hindmost! How'd he do it?"

"I don't know." Walton grinned. "But Flandry's the Empire's ace secret

service officer. He works miracles before breakfast. Why, before

these barbarians snatched him he was handling the Llynathawr trouble

all by himself. And you know how he was doing it? He went there

with everything but a big brass band, did a perfect imitation of a

political appointee using the case as an excuse to do some high-powered

roistering, and worked his way up toward the conspirators through the

underworld characters he met in the course of it. They never dreamed he

was any kind of danger--as we found out after a whole squad of men had

worked for six months to crack the case of his disappearance."

"Then the Scothanians have been holding the equivalent of a whole

army--and didn't know it!"

"That's right," nodded Walton. "The biggest mistake they ever made was

to kidnap Captain Flandry. They should have played safe and kept some

nice harmless cobras for pets!"

* * * * *

Iuthagaar was burning. Mobs rioted in the streets and howled with fear

and rage and the madness of catastrophe. The remnants of Penda's army

had abandoned the town and were fleeing northward before the advancing

southern rebels. They would be harried by Torric's guerrillas, who

in turn were the fragments of a force smashed by Earl Morgaar after

Penda was slain by Kortan's assassins. Morgaar himself was dead and

his rebels broken by Nartheof--the earl's own band had been riddled

by corruption and greed and had fallen apart before the royalists'

counterblow.

But Nartheof was dead too, at the hands of Nornagast's vengeful

relatives. His own seizure of supreme power and attempt at

reorganization had created little but confusion, which grew worse when

he was gone. Now the royalists were a beaten force somewhere out in

space, savagely attacked by their erstwhile allies, driven off the

revolting conquered planets, and swept away before the remorselessly

advancing Terrestrial fleet.

The Scothanian empire had fallen into a hundred shards, snapping

at each other and trying desperately to retrieve their own with no

thought for the whole. Lost in an incomprehensibly complex network of

intrigue and betrayal, the great leaders fell, or pulled out of the

mess and made hasty peace with Terra. War and anarchy flamed between

the stars--but limited war, a petty struggle really. The resources and

organization for real war and its attendant destruction just weren't

there any more.

A few guards still held the almost-deserted palace, waiting for the

Terrestrials to come and end the strife. There was nothing they could

do but wait.

Captain Flandry stood at a window and looked over the city. He felt no

great elation. Nor was he safe yet. Cerdic was loose somewhere on the

planet, and Cerdic had undoubtedly guessed who was responsible.

Gunli came to the human. She was very pale. She hadn't expected Penda's

death and it had hurt her. But there was nothing to do now but go

through with the business.

"Who would have thought it?" she whispered. "Who would have dreamed

we would ever come to this? That mighty Scotha would lie at the

conqueror's feet?"

"I would," said Flandry tonelessly. "Such jerry-built empires as yours

never last. Barbarians just don't have the talent and the knowledge to

run them. Being only out for plunder, they don't really build.

"Of course, Scotha was especially susceptible to this kind of sabotage.

Your much-vaunted honesty was your own undoing. By carefully avoiding

any hint of dishonorable actions, you became completely ignorant of

the techniques and the preventive measures. Your honor was never more

than a latent ability for dishonor. All I had to do, essentially, was

to point out to your key men the rewards of betrayal. If they'd been

really honest, I'd have died at the first suggestion. Instead--they

grabbed at the chance. So it was easy to set them against each other

until no one knew whom he could trust--" He smiled humorlessly. "Not

many Scothani objected to bribery or murder or treachery when it was

shown to be to their advantage. I assure you, most Terrestrials would

have thought further, been able to see beyond their own noses and

realized the ultimate disaster it would bring."

"Still--honor is honor, and I have lost mine and so have all my

people." Gunli looked at him with a strange light in her eyes.

"Dominic, disgrace can only be wiped out in blood."

He felt a sudden tightening of his nerves and muscles, an awareness of

something deadly rising before him. "What do you mean?"

She had lifted the blaster from his holster and skipped out of reach

before he could move. "No--stay there!" Her voice was shrill. "Dominic,

you are a cunning man. But are you a brave one?"

* * * * *

He stood still before the menace of the weapon. "I think--" He groped

for words. No, she wasn't crazy. But she wasn't really human, and she

had the barbarian's fanatical code in her as well. Easy, easy--or death

would spit at him--"I think I took a few chances, Gunli."

"Aye. But you never fought. You haven't stood up man to man and battled

as a warrior should." Pain racked her thin lovely face. She was

breathing hard now. "It's for you as well as him, Dominic. He has to

have his chance to avenge his father--himself--fallen Scotha--and you

have to have a chance too. If you can win, then you are the stronger

and have the right--"

Might makes right. It was, after all, the one unbreakable law of

Scotha. The old trial by combat, here on a foreign planet many

light-years from green Terra--

Cerdic came in. He had a sword in either hand, and there was a savage

glee in his bloodshot eyes.

"I let him in, Dominic," said Gunli. She was crying now. "I had to.

Penda was my lord--but kill him, kill him!"

With a convulsive movement, she threw the blaster out of the window.

Cerdic gave her an inquiring look. Her voice was almost inaudible: "I

might not be able to stand it. I might shoot you, Cerdic."

"Thanks!" He ripped the word out, savagely. "I'll deal with you

later, traitress. Meanwhile--" A terrible laughter bubbled in his

throat--"I'll carve your--friend--into many small pieces. Because who,

among the so-civilized Terrestrials, can handle a sword?"

Gunli seemed to collapse. "O gods, O almighty gods--I didn't think of

that--"

Suddenly she flung herself on Cerdic, tooth and nail and horns,

snatching at his dagger. "Get him, Dominic!" she screamed. "_Get him!_"

The prince swept one brawny arm out. There was a dull smack and Gunli

fell heavily to the floor.

"Now," grinned Cerdic, "choose your weapon!"

Flandry came forward and took one of the slender broadswords. Oddly, he

was thinking mostly about the queen, huddled there on the floor. Poor

kid, poor kid, she'd been under a greater strain than flesh and nerves

were meant to bear. But give her a chance and she'd be all right.

Cerdic's eyes were almost dreamy now. He smiled as he crossed blades.

"This will make up for a lot," he said. "Before you die, Terrestrial,

you will no longer be a man--"

Steel rang in the great hall. Flandry parried the murderous slash and

raked the prince's cheek. Cerdic roared and plunged at him, his blade

weaving a net of death before him. Flandry skipped back, sword ringing

on sword, shoulders against the wall.

They stood for an instant, straining blade against blade, sweat

rivering off them, and bit by bit the Scothan's greater strength bent

Flandry's arm aside. Suddenly the Terrestrial let go, striking out

almost in the same moment, and the prince's steel hissed by his face.

He ran back and Cerdic rushed him again. The Scothan was wide open for

the simplest stop thrust, but Flandry didn't want to kill him. They

closed once more, blades clashing, and the human waited for his chance.

It came, an awkward move, and then one supremely skillful

twist--Cerdic's sword went spinning out of his hand and across the room

and the prince stood disarmed with Flandry's point at his throat.

For a moment he gaped in utter stupefaction. Flandry laughed harshly

and said: "My dear friend, you forget that deliberate archaism is one

characteristic of a decadent society. There's hardly a noble in the

Empire who hasn't studied _scientific_ fencing."

Defeat was heavy in the prince's defiant voice: "Kill me, then. Be done

with it."

"There's been too much killing, and you can be too useful." Flandry

threw his own weapon aside and cocked his fists. "But there's one thing

I've wanted to do for a long, long time."

Despite the Scothan's powerful but clumsy defense, Flandry proceeded to

beat the living hell out of him.

[Illustration: _"There's one thing I've wanted to do for a long, long

time," said Flandry ... and did it...._]

* * * * *

"We've saved scotha, all Scotha," said Flandry. "Think, girl. What

would have happened if you'd gone on into the Empire? Even if you'd

won--and that was always doubtful, for Terra is mightier than you

thought--you'd only have fallen into civil war. You just didn't have

the capacity to run an empire--as witness the fact that your own

allies and conquests turned on you the first chance they got. You'd

have fought each other over the spoils, greater powers would have moved

in, Scotha would have been ripe for sacking--eventually you'd have gone

down into Galactic oblivion. The present conflict was really quite

small--it took far fewer lives than even a successful invasion of the

Empire would have done. And now Terra will bring the peace you longed

for, Gunli."

"Aye," she whispered. "Aye, we deserve to be conquered."

"But you aren't," he said. "The southerners hold Scotha now, and Terra

will recognize them as the legal government--with you the queen, Gunli.

You'll be another vassal state of the Empire, yes, but with all your

freedoms except the liberty to rob and kill other races. And trade

with the rest of the Empire will bring you a greater and more enduring

prosperity than war ever would.

"I suppose that the Empire is decadent. But there's no reason why it

can't someday have a renaissance. When the vigorous new peoples such as

yours are guided by the ancient wisdom of Terra, the Galaxy may see its

greatest glory."

She smiled at him. It was still a wan smile, but something of her old

spirit was returning to her. "I don't think the Empire is so far gone,

Dominic," she said. "Not when it has men like you." She took his hands.

"And what will you be doing now?"

He met her eyes, and there was a sudden loneliness within him. She--was

very beautiful--

But it could never work out. Best to leave now, before a bright memory

grew tarnished with the day-to-day clashing of personalities utterly

foreign to each other. She would forget him in time, find someone else,

and he--well--"I have my work," he said.

They looked up to the bright sky. Far above them, the first of the

descending Imperial ships glittered in the sunlight like a falling star.