It was nearly dawn when Retief gave the whistled signal he had agreed
on with Potter, then rose and walked into the camp circle. Swazey stood
up.
"There you are," he said. "We been wonderin' whether to go out after
you."
Lemuel came forward, one eye black to the cheekbone. He held out a
raw-boned hand. "Sorry I jumped you, stranger. Tell you the truth, I
thought you was some kind of stool-pigeon from the CDT."
Bert came up behind Lemuel. "How do you know he ain't, Lemuel?" he
said. "Maybe he--"
Lemuel floored Bert with a backward sweep of his arm. "Next
cotton-picker says some embassy Johnny can cool me gets worse'n that."
"Tell me," said Retief. "How are you boys fixed for wine?"
"Wine? Mister, we been livin' on stump water for a year now. 'Dobe's
fatal to the kind of bacteria it takes to ferment likker."
"Try this." Retief handed over a sqat jug. Swazey drew the cork,
sniffed, drank and passed it to Lemuel.
"Mister, where'd you get that?"
"The Flap-jacks make it. Here's another question for you: Would you
concede a share in this planet to the Flap-jacks in return for a peace
guarantee?"
At the end of a half hour of heated debate Lemuel turned to Retief.
"We'll make any reasonable deal," he said. "I guess they got as much
right here as we have. I think we'd agree to a fifty-fifty split.
That'd give about a hundred and fifty oases to each side."
"What would you say to keeping all the oases and giving them the
desert?"
Lemuel reached for the wine jug, eyes on Retief. "Keep talkin',
mister," he said. "I think you got yourself a deal."
* * * * *
Consul Passwyn glanced up at Retief, went on perusing a paper.
"Sit down, Retief," he said absently. "I thought you were over on
Pueblo, or Mud-flat, or whatever they call that desert."
"I'm back."
Passwyn eyed him sharply. "Well, well, what is it you need, man? Speak
up. Don't expect me to request any military assistance, no matter how
things are...."
Retief passed a bundle of documents across the desk. "Here's the
Treaty. And a Mutual Assistance Pact declaration and a trade agreement."
"Eh?" Passwyn picked up the papers, riffled through them. He leaned
back in his chair, beamed.
"Well, Retief. Expeditiously handled." He stopped, blinked at Retief.
"You seem to have a bruise on your jaw. I hope you've been conducting
yourself as befits a member of the Embassy staff."
"I attended a sporting event," Retief said. "One of the players got a
little excited."
"Well ... it's one of the hazards of the profession. One must
pretend an interest in such matters." Passwyn rose, extended a hand.
"You've done well, my boy. Let this teach you the value of following
instructions to the letter."
Outside, by the hall incinerator drop, Retief paused long enough to
take from his briefcase a large buff envelope, still sealed, and drop
it in the slot.