"Go and bring me the jewels."
* * * * *
Kurland flung back his head, a sudden roar of laughter in his muscled
throat. The chains clashed on wrist and ankle as he flung derision in
the other's paling face.
"You send a wolf on a jackal's errand, Marward! You think I would
return, or venture one lean hungry mile on such a rat's voyage to help
you on your way, you whom I have fought these many months, you who
broke and exiled me, you who made me outlaw and today must hang me for
it?" His scorn rasped bitingly in the prison cell, but Gion of Jupiter
was not moved by the love or hate of men. He nodded to the tiny barred
window.
"Look from the window."
Kurland looked, seeing in the growing pearl of dawn the black and ugly
shapes athwart the sky were six gibbets stood ranged along the ramparts
of Gion's northern fortress in the Montral foothills.
"You understand," nodded Gion, leaning against the door. "You will
return, and with the jewels, or your five young companions will be
swinging there to greet you when my men take you, as they took you once
before, Kurland."
The outlaw turned, ice-veined, but Gion did not stir.
"I am a prisoner. Judged and doomed. No ship, no crew."
"Escapes have been arranged before."
Kurland surveyed the big man curiously. "Why not go yourself on this
golden errand, Marward?"
Gion shrugged. "Leaving my empire to the wolves? You know I dare not,
nor trust a lieutenant in my place. This is not a secret for friends or
followers."
"I am no friend of yours. You dare trust me?"
"Outlaw, fugitive, renegade ... need I fear you, Kurland?" smiled Gion
coolly. "My word against yours."
Kurland nodded slowly. "I see. But should I return with the jewels,
what assurance have I that my crew and I do not instantly decorate your
gallows yonder?"
"None," admitted Gion. "Reliance upon my word, I imagine, would
give you scant comfort, but it is not to my interest to have even
the slightest suspicion turned upon me while the jewels are in my
possession. Compared to them, you and your arrogant little band are not
worth the snapping of a broken twig. Bring me the Orions, Kurland, and
your five slip the noose with a day's grace to be beyond my grasp. What
more do you require?"
"A ship and my crew to man her," replied Kurland, steadily. "I am your
enemy forever, Gion."
Gion smiled, not without malice. "If you will have it so, Kurland. I am
a bad enemy."
"You used me once too often, Gion. I was an honest man when first my
ships came trading here, too stiff to crawl to your thieving crew, too
callow to stomach your vicious thrust to power. Exiled, dishonored,
branded, I bear a prouder title than yours, Marward. I am your enemy."
"Serve me, then, and I promise you scant reward," Gion calmly agreed.
"Your ship lies in the hangar, beyond the outer towers. Fueled. The
chart is marked, your course is set. There are no guards."
Kurland suggestively clanked his chains.
Gion stepped into the corridor, his heavy face set and intent. Drawing
his gun, he leveled a short tube with his left hand, focussing it on
Kurland's chains through the doorway grill. As the outlaw pulled, links
parted like melted cheese in the tinted purple glow.
"There will be reprimands and stern punishments that you were allowed
to conceal a dis-tube about your person," explained Gion, holding
Kurland motionless with the threat of his leveled gun. "You comprehend.
Your companions will be spared, that you be hanged together on your
recapture. There will be no questions, no suspicion. On your return,
you will place the jewels beneath the seat where you have lain, taking
the key you will find there to release your men. Vanish, Kurland. Stay
beyond my power. Expect no mercy, for justice shall be no more swift
and certain to punish your crimes than I to still your tongue for once
and all. You have your warning."
"You make yourself quite plain," agreed the outlaw, hand on hip. "We
understand one another, Marward of Jupiter. You shall have your mangy
jewels. Nothing else."
Gion laughed contemptuously. "Have you seen them, wolf's-head? What
else do I need?"
"Friends, Marward."
"I have an enemy," Gion mocked, vanishing up the dim-lit corridor in a
blur of fading saffron. His throaty laugh came thickly back to Kurland
as the clicking lock swung the heavy door gently wide.
Kurland was through it instantly, alert for a treacherous blast,
darting into the shadows of the poor stone corridor, patched and
ragged with broken plaster and creeping moss. Gion had vanished, but
he did not dare venture anything in that direction, bearing as he did
the lives of all his captive crew. Softly he passed down the empty
corridors to the broad upper court overlooking the hillside ramparts.
His broad chest swelled with the fresh breath of freedom, strained
though it might be through the rude beams of the new-made gallows he
was cheating. The cords along his bearded jaw tightened. His hands
found a tiny pill in a slot of his bread belt, pressed it swiftly
against the unguarded wood of the gallows. He melted into the shadows
of the stairs as a wave of heat and acrid smoke billowed out, engulfing
him and hiding him from view. The startled guards in the towers above
saw the tall gibbets wreathed in sudden consuming flame even as they
stared.
Rushing to the conflagration, none saw the shadowy figure dart through
the postern far below and vanish into the rocks fringing the landing
ground at the wall's base. A moment later, the deserted hangars erupted
flame and boiling smoke, hurtling into the starry Jovian sky the slim
black fighter manned once again by Eldon Kurland, outlaw. Gaping, they
watched it vanish among the paling stars of dawn.