A month later, he arrived on Borlaam via the freighter _Dawnlight_, as
scheduled, and passed through customs without difficulty despite the
fact that he was concealing more than three hundred thousand stellors'
worth of proscribed starstones on his person.
His first stop was the Avenue of Bronze, where he sought out Benjin and
the Heitman Oversk.
He explained crisply and briefly his activities since leaving Borlaam,
neglecting to mention the matter of the shipboard romance with the Lady
Moaris. While he spoke, both Benjin and Oversk stared eagerly at him,
and when he told of intimidating Brennt and killing the treacherous
Mardlin they beamed.
Herndon drew the packet of starstones from his cloak and laid them on
the wooden table. "There," he said. "The starstones. There were some
defectives, as you know, and I've brought back cash for them." He added
forty-five thousand stellors to the pile.
Benjin quickly caught up the money and the stones and said, "You've
done well, Herndon. Better than we expected. It was a lucky day when
you killed that proteus."
"Will you have more work for me?"
Oversk said, "Of course. You'll take Mardlin's place as the courier.
Didn't you realize that?"
Herndon had realized it, but it did not please him. He wanted to remain
on Borlaam, now that he had made himself known to the Lady Moaris. He
wanted to begin his climb toward Krellig. And if he were to shuttle
between Vyapore and Borlaam, the all-important advantage he had
attained would be lost.
But the Lady Moaris would not be back on Borlaam for nearly two months.
He could make one more round-trip for the combine without seriously
endangering his position. After that, he would have to find some means
of leaving their service. Of course, if they preferred to keep him on
they could compel him, but--
"When do I make the next trip?" he asked.
Benjin shrugged lazily. "Tomorrow, next week, next month--who knows? We
have plenty of stones on hand. There is no hurry for the next trip. You
can take a vacation now, while we sell these."
"No," Herndon said. "I want to leave immediately."
Oversk frowned at him. "Is there some reason for the urgency?"
"I don't want to stay on Borlaam just now," Herndon said. "There's no
need for me to explain further. It pleases me to make another trip to
Vyapore."
"He's eager," Benjin said. "It's a good sign."
"Mardlin was eager at first too," Oversk remarked balefully.
Herndon was out of his seat and at the nobleman's throat in an instant.
His needler grazed the skin of Oversk's adam's-apple.
"If you intend by that comparison to imply--"
Benjin tugged at Herndon's arm, "Sit down, rogue, and relax. The
Heitman is tired tonight, and the words slipped out. We trust you. Put
the needler away."
Reluctantly Herndon lowered the weapon. Oversk, white-faced despite his
tan, fingered his throat where Herndon's weapon had touched it, but
said nothing. Herndon regretted his hasty action, and decided not to
demand an apology. Oversk still could be useful to him.
"A spacerogue's word is his bond," Herndon said. "I don't intend to
cheat you. When can I leave?"
"Tomorrow, if you wish," Benjin said. "We'll cable Brennt to have
another shipment ready for you."
* * * * *
This time he travelled to Vyapore aboard a transport freighter, since
there were no free tours with noblemen to be had at this season. He
reached the jungle world a little less than a month later. Brennt
had thirty-two jewels waiting for him. Thirty-two glittering little
starstones, each in its protective sheath, each longing to rob some
man's mind away with its beckoning dreams.
Herndon gathered them up and arranged a transfer of funds to the amount
of two hundred fifty-six thousand stellors. Brennt eyed him bitterly
throughout the whole transaction, but it was obvious that the Vyaporan
was in fear for his life, and would not dare attempt duplicity. No word
was said of Mardlin or his fate.
Bearing his precious burden, Herndon returned to Borlaam aboard
a second-class liner out of Diirhav, a neighboring world of some
considerable population. It was expensive, but he could not wait for
the next freight ship. By the time he returned to Borlaam the Lady
Moaris would have been back several weeks. He had promised the Steward
he would rejoin Moaris' service, and it was a promise he intended to
keep.
It had become winter when he reached Borlaam again with his jewels. The
daily sleet-rains sliced across the cities and the plains, showering
them with billions of icy knife-like particles. People huddled
together, waiting for the wintry cold to end.
Herndon made his way through streets clogged with snow that glistened
blue-white in the light of the glinting winter moon, and delivered his
gems to Oversk in the Avenue of Bronze. Benjin, he learned, would be
back shortly; he was engaged in an important transaction.
Herndon warmed himself by the heat-wall and accepted cup after cup
of Oversk's costly Thrucian blue wine to ease his inner chill. The
commoner Dorgel entered after a while, followed by Marya and Razumod,
and together they examined the new shipment of starstones Herndon had
brought back, storing them with the rest of their stock.
At length Benjin entered. The little man was almost numb with cold,
but his voice was warm as he said, "The deal is settled, Oversk!
Oh--Herndon--you're back, I see. Was it a good trip?"
"Excellent," Herndon said.
Oversk remarked, "You saw the Secretary of State, I suppose. Not
Krellig himself."
"Naturally. Would Krellig let someone like me into his presence?"
Herndon's ears rose at the mention of his enemy's name. He said,
"What's this about the Seigneur?"
"A little deal," Benjin chortled. "I've been doing some very delicate
negotiating while you were away. And I signed the contract today."
"_What_ contract?" Herndon demanded.
"We have a royal patron now, it seems. The Seigneur Krellig has gone
into the starstone business himself. Not in competition with us,
though. He's bought a controlling interest in us."
Herndon felt as if his vital organs had been transmuted to lead. In a
congealed voice he said, "And what are the terms of this agreement?"
"Simple. Krellig realized the starstone trade, though illegal, was
unstoppable. Rather than alter the legislation and legalize the trade,
which would be morally undesirable and which would also tend to lower
the price of the gems, he asked the Lord Moaris to place him in contact
with some group of smugglers who would work for the Crown. Moaris,
naturally, suggested his brother. Oversk preferred to let me handle the
negotiations, and for the past month I've been meeting secretly with
Krellig's Secretary of State to work out a deal."
"The terms of which are?"
"Krellig guarantees us immunity from prosecution, and at the same
time promises to crack down heavily on our competition. He pledges us
a starstone monopoly, in other words, and so we'll be able to lower
our price to Brennt and jack up the selling price to whatever the
traffic will bear. In return for this we turn over eight per cent of
our gross profits to the Seigneur, and agree to supply him with six
starstones annually, at cost, for the Seigneur to use as gifts to his
enemies. Naturally we also transfer our fealties from the combine to
the Seigneur himself. He holds our controls to assure loyal service."
Herndon sat as if stunned. His hands felt chilled; coldness rippled
through his body. Loyalty to Krellig? His enemy, the person he had
sworn to destroy?
The conflict seared through his mind and body. How could he fulfill his
earlier vow, now that this diametrically opposed one was in effect?
Transfer of fealty was a common thing. By the terms of Benjin's
agreement, Herndon now was a sworn vassal of the Seigneur.
If he killed Krellig, that would violate his bond. If he served the
Seigneur in all faith, he would break trust with himself and leave home
and parents unavenged. It was an impossible dilemma. He quivered with
the strain of resolving it.
"The spacerogue doesn't look happy about the deal," Oversk commented.
"Or are you sick, Herndon?"
"I'm all right," Herndon said stonily. "It's the cold outside, that's
all. Chills a man."
_Fealty to Krellig!_ Behind his back they had sold themselves and him
to the man he hated most. Herndon's ethical code was based entirely on
the concept of loyalty and unswerving obedience, of the sacred nature
of an oath. But now he found himself bound to two mutually exclusive
oaths. He was caught between them, racked and drawn apart; the only
escape from the torment was death.
He stood up. "Excuse me," he said. "I have an appointment elsewhere
in the city. You can reach me at my usual address if you need me for
anything."
* * * * *
It took him the better part of a day to get to see the Chief Steward of
Moaris Keep and explain to him that he had been unavoidably detained
in the far worlds, and that he fully intended to re-enter the Moaris'
service and perform his duties loyally and faithfully. After quite some
wrangling he was reinstated as one of the Second Stewards, and given
functions to carry out in the daily life of the sprawling residence
that was Moaris Keep.
Several days passed before he caught as much as a glimpse of the Lady
Moaris. That did not surprise him; the Keep covered fifteen acres
of Borlaam City, and Lord and Lady occupied private quarters on the
uppermost level, the rest of the huge place being devoted to libraries,
ballrooms, art galleries, and other housings, for the Moaris treasures,
all of these rooms requiring a daily cleaning by the household staff.
He saw her finally as he was passing through the fifth-level hallway in
search of the ramp that would take him to his next task, cataloguing
the paintings of the sixth-level gallery. He heard a rustle of
crinoline first, and then she proceeded down the hall, flanked on
each side by copper-colored Toppidan giants and in front and back by
glistening-gowned ladies-in-waiting.
The Lady Moaris herself wore sheer garments that limned the shapely
lines of her body. Her face was sad; it seemed to Herndon, as he saw
her from afar, that she was under some considerable strain.
He stepped to one side to let the procession go past; but she saw him,
and glanced quickly to the side at which he stood. Her eyes widened
in surprise as she recognized him. He did not dare a smile. He waited
until she had moved on, but inwardly he gloated. It was not difficult
to read the expression in her eyes.
Later that day, a blind Agozlid servant came up to him and silently
handed him a sealed note. Herndon pocketed it, waiting until he was
alone in a corridor that was safe from the Lord Moaris' spy-rays. He
knew it was safe; the spy-ray in that corridor had been defective, and
he himself had removed it that morning, meaning to replace it later in
the day.
He broke the seal. The note said simply: _I have waited a month for
you. Come to me tonight; M. is to spend the night at the Seigneur's
palace. Karla will admit you._
The photonically-sensitized ink faded from sight in a moment; the paper
was blank. He thrust it in a disposal hatch, smiling.
He quietly made his way toward the eleventh-level chamber of the Lady
Moaris when the Keep had darkened for the night. Her lady-in-waiting
Karla was on duty, the bronze-haired one who had served as go-between
aboard the _Lord Nathiir_. Now she wore night robes of translucent
silk; a test of his fidelity, no doubt. Herndon carefully kept his eyes
from her body and said, "I am expected."
"Yes. Come with me."
It seemed to him that the look in her eyes was a strange one: desire,
jealousy, hatred perhaps? But she turned and led him within, down
corridors lit only with a faint nightglow. She nudged an opener; a door
before him flickered and was momentarily nullified. He stepped through
and it returned to the solid state behind him.
The Lady Moaris was waiting.
She wore only the filmiest of gowns, and the longing was evident in her
eyes. Herndon said, "Is this safe?"
"It is. Moaris is away at Krellig's." Her lip curled in a bitter scowl.
"He spends half his nights there, toying with the Seigneur's cast-off
women. The room is sealed against spy-rays. There's no way he can find
out you've been here."
"And the girl--Karla? You trust her?"
"As much as I can trust anyone." Her arms sought his shoulders. "My
rogue," she murmured. "Why did you leave us at Molleccogg?"
"Business of my own, milady."
"I missed you. Molleccogg was a bore without you."
Herndon smiled gravely. "Believe me, I didn't leave you because I chose
to. But I had sworn to carry out duty elsewhere."
She pulled him urgently to her. Herndon felt pity for this lonely
noblewoman, first in rank among the ladies of the court, condemned to
seek lovers among the stewards and grooms.
"Anything I have is yours," she promised him. "Ask for anything!
Anything!"
"There is one prize you might secure for me," Herndon said grimly.
"Name it. The cost doesn't matter."
"There is no cost," Herndon said. "I simply seek an invitation to the
court of the Seigneur. You can secure this through your husband. Will
you do it for me?"
"Of course," she whispered. She clung to him hungrily. "I'll speak to
Moaris--tomorrow."