When the _Valkyrie_ reached normspace, her cargo proved to be the
traditional reward--gold. Not the most precious metal in the universe
any more, certainly, but still valuable. What there was in her hold
would come to perhaps as much money as Mattern might, if his luck had
held, have amassed in several decades of operating with Schiemann in
normspace.
"Well," said the kqyres as Mattern stood goggling at the glowing
bullion, "is the payment just?"
"Yeah," Mattern grunted, "fair enough." His mind was working busily:
_Captain Schiemann is dead, and so is Balas, so I can't do anything
about that. A man's got to have some kind of business. Why shouldn't I
go on trading with the xhindi, since I seem to be one of the few people
lucky enough to be able to do it? Besides, from what the mbretersha
said, I couldn't get out of it even if I wanted to. So why fight?
Ethics aside, it's a good deal. I'd make more money that way than any
other way. I could see a lot of Lyddy._
He caught a flicker in the shifting planes of a grayness that the
kqyres had become, according to promise.
"I'm thinking the way you want me to think--right, Lord Njeri?" Mattern
asked self-mockingly.
"You are thinking the way any reasonable being would think."
Left to his own devices, Mattern would have disposed of the gold as
quickly as he could, and then gone back to Erytheia to spend it all on
a year or so with Lyddy. She came that expensive.
"And then what would you do?" the kqyres queried.
"Well, then I'd go out to hyperspace and make more, I guess. I know
it's a little tough on you," Mattern added apologetically, "but you
know how it is; I'm crazy about that woman."
The kqyres evidently did not know, but he made an effort to understand.
"And, meanwhile, she will go back to--doing what she has been doing,
with other men?"