The big man nodded, his eyes never leaving Kurland. The sharp brows
over his enormous eyes lay straight and commanding, and there were
lines about his tight mouth Kurland had never seen. Slowly, softly,
Gion went on, rocking easily on his booted heels.
"Suppose, came dawn, you did not hang, Kurland?"
The swinging leg halted, the big body tensed in its chains. Then slowly
Kurland eased back against the cold stone wall, a thin, mocking smile
playing across his face.
"You should know me better, Gion. I am not for sale, even at such a
price. Nor my comrades."
Cold pride flashed in Marward's eyes. "I buy no man's loyalty," he
retorted. "Were yours for sale, I should not be here, nor would you. I
offer a supposition, nothing more."
Kurland rose, a powerful, black-clad figure imposing even in torn
uniform and clinking chains. He stared fiercely at the heavy sub-ruler
of the outer Jovian plains, the iron-souled tyrant who had broken and
suborned Earthly sway until much of the giant planet lay supine and
trembling before him.
"You have not come to taunt me, nor play with suppositions, Marward.
Why not be plain?"
"I shall be plain enough," promised Gion, dropping a hand upon the
heavy butt of his silver-mounted glare-pistol. Kurland's teeth flashed
in the gloom. There was magic still in his flaming name.
"You know the Jewels of Orion?"
"I have heard of them."
"They have vanished."
The outlaw shrugged, half a laugh breaking through his beard. "My
regrets, Marward. I had no hand in it."