On Bakhalla, he and Mondar had an excellent dinner at Mondar’s residence. Over the dinner table Cletus brought the Exotic up to date. Mondar listened with interest, which increased visibly when Cletus got into the matter of the special training in autocontrol he had initiated for the officers and men who would be under his command. After the dinner was over, they strolled out onto one of the many terraces of Mondar’s home to continue their talk under the night sky.

“And there,” said Cletus, as they stood in the warm night breeze, looking upward. He pointed at a yellowish star low on the horizon. “That’ll be your sister world, Mara. I understand you Exotics have got quite a colony there, too.”

“Oh yes,” answered Mondar thoughtfully, gazing at the star.

“A pity,” said Cletus, turning to him, “that they aren’t as free there from Alliance and Coalition influence as you’ve been here on Kultis since the Neulanders were taken care of.”

Mondar withdrew his eyes from the star, turned himself to face Cletus and smiled. “You’re suggesting we Exotics hire your new battle unit to drive out the Alliance and Coalition forces?” he said, humor in his voice. “Cletus, we’ve strained our financial resources for you already. Besides, it’s counter to our general philosophy to contemplate deliberate conquest of other peoples or territories. You shouldn’t suggest it to us.”

“I don’t,” said Cletus. “I only suggest you contemplate the building of a core-tap power station at the Maran North Pole.”

Mondar gazed through the darkness at Cletus for a moment without speaking. “A core-tap power station?” he echoed at last, slowly. “Cletus, what new subtlety are you working at now?”

“Hardly a subtlety,” replied Cletus. “It’s more a matter of taking a square look at the facts on Mara, economic and otherwise. The Alliance and the Coalition are both still stretched to their economic limits to maintain their influence with various colonies on all the new worlds. They may have lost ground here. But they’re both strong on Mara, on Frieland and New Earth under Sirius, on Newton and Cassida, and even to a certain extent on the younger old worlds of the solar system—Mars and Venus. In fact, you might say they’re both overextended. Sooner or later they’re bound to crack—and the one that’s liable to crack first, because it’s invested more of its wealth and manpower in influencing new world colonies than the Coalition has, is the Alliance. Now, if either the Alliance or the Coalition goes under, the one that’s left is going to take over all the influence that the other formerly had. Instead of two large octopi, with their tentacles into everything on the new worlds, there’ll be one extra-large octupus. You don’t want that.”

“No,” murmured Mondar.

“Then it’s plainly to your interests to see that, on some place like Mara, neither the Alliance nor the Coalition gets the upper hand,” said Cletus. “After we took care of Neuland, and you invited the Alliance forces out, the personnel the Alliance had here were taken away and spread out generally—plugged in any place the Alliance seemed in danger of springing a leak in confrontation with the Coalition. The Coalition, on the other hand, took its people in Neuland—of which, granted, there weren’t as many as there were of Alliance people, but it was a fair number—and simply shifted them over to Mara. The result is that the Coalition is headed toward getting the upper hand over the Alliance on Mara.”

“So you’re suggesting we hire some of these newly trained Dorsais of yours to do on Mara what you did here?” Mondar smiled at him, a little quizzically. “Didn’t I just say that philosophically we Exotics consider it inadvisable to improve our position by conquest—or any violent means, for that matter. Empires built by force of arms are built on sand, Cletus.”

“In that case,” said Cletus, “the sand under the Roman Empire must have been most solidly packed. However, I’m not suggesting any such thing. I’m merely suggesting that you build the power plant. Your Exotic colony of Mara occupies the subtropical belt across the one large continent there. With a core-tap power station at the North Pole, you not only extend your influence into the essentially unclaimed sub-arctic regions there, you’ll be able to sell power to all the small, independent, temperate-zoned colonies lying between Mara and the station. Your conquest on that planet, if any, will be by purely peaceful and economic means.”

“Those small colonies you refer to,” said Mondar, his head a little on one side, watching Cletus out of the comers of his blue eyes, “are all under Coalition influence.”

“All the better,” said Cletus. “The Coalition can’t afford very well to drill them a competing core-tap power plant.”

“And how are we going to afford it?” Mondar asked. He shook his head. “Cletus, Cletus, I think you must believe that our Exotic peoples are made of money.”

“Not at all,” Cletus said. “There’s no need for you to put yourself to any more immediate expense than that for the basic labor force required to set up the plant. It ought to be possible for you to set up an agreement for a lease-purchase on the equipment itself, and the specially trained people required to set up the plant.”

“Where?” asked Mondar. “With the Alliance? Or the Coalition?”

“Neither,” said Cletus, promptly. “You seem to forget there’s one other colonial group out here on the new worlds that’s proved itself prosperous.”

“You mean the scientific colonies on Newton?” said Mondar. “They’re at the extreme end of the philosophical spectrum from us. They favor a tight society having as little contact with outsiders as possible. We prize individualism above anything else, and our whole purpose of existence is the concern with the total human race. I’m afraid there’s a natural antipathy between the Newtonians and us.” Mondar sighed slightly. “I agree we should find a way around such emotional barriers between us and other human beings. Nonetheless, the barrier’s there—and in any case, the Newtonians aren’t any better off financially than we are. Why should they extend us credit, equipment and the services of highly trained people—as if they were the Alliance itself?”

“Because eventually such a power station can pay back their investment with an excellent profit—by the time the lease expires and you purchase their interest in it back from them,” said Cletus.

“No doubt,” said Mondar. “But the investment’s still too large and too long-ranged for people in their position. A man of modest income doesn’t suddenly speculate on distant and risky ventures. He leaves that to richer men, who can afford the possible loss—unless he’s a fool. And those Newtonians, whatever else they are, aren’t fools. They wouldn’t even listen.”

“They might,” said Cletus, “if the proposition was put to them in the proper manner. I was thinking I might say a word to them myself about it—if you want to authorize me to do that, that is. I’m on my way there now, to see if they might not want to hire some of our newly trained Dorsai troops.”

Mondar gazed at him for a second; the Exotic’s eyes narrowed. “I’m utterly convinced, myself,” he said, “that there’s no chance in the universe of your persuading them to anything like this. However, we’d stand to gain a great deal by it, and I don’t see how we could possibly lose anything by your trying. If you like, I’ll speak to my fellow Exotics—both about the project and about your approaching the Newtonians for equipment and experts to put it in.”

“Fine. Do that,” said Cletus. He turned back toward the house. “I imagine I should start folding up, then. I want to inspect the Dorsai troops in the regiment you’ve got here now, and set up some kind of rotation system so that we can move them back by segments to the Dorsai for the new training. I want to be on my way to Newton by the end of the week.”

“I should have our answer for you by that time,” said Mondar, following him in. He glanced curiously at Cletus as they moved into the house side by side. “I must say I don’t see what you stand to gain by it, however.”

“I don’t, directly,” Cletus answered. “Nor do the Dorsais—we Dorsais, I have to get used to saying. But didn’t you say something to me once about how anything that moved mankind as a whole onward and upward also moved you and your people toward their long-term goal?”

“You’re interested in our long-term goal now?” Mondar asked.

“No. In my own,” said Cletus. “But in this case it amounts to the same thing, here and there.”

He spent the next five days in Bakhalla briefing the Dorsai officers on his training program back on the Dorsai. He invited those who wished to return and take it, along with those of their enlisted men who wished the same thing, and he left them with a sample plan for rotation of troops to that end—a plan in which his own trained men on the Dorsai would fill in for those of the Bakhallan troops that wished to take the training, collecting the pay of those they replaced for the training period.

The response from the Dorsais in Bakhalla was enthusiastic. Most of the men there had known Cletus at the time of the victory over Neuland. Therefore, Cletus was able to extend the value of the loan he had made from the Exotics, since he did not have to find jobs immediately for those Dorsais he had already trained, but could use them several times over as replacements for other men wishing to take the training. Meanwhile, he was continually building up the number of Dorsais who had been trained to his own purposes.

At the end of the week, he took ship for Newton, bearing credentials from the Exotics to discuss the matter of a core-tap power station on Mara with the Newtonian Governing Board as an ancillary topic to his own search for employment for his Dorsais.

Correspondence with the board had obtained for him an appointment with the chairman of the board within a day of his arrival in Bailie, largest city and de facto capital of the Advanced Associated Communities—as the combined colonies of technical and scientific emigrants to Newton had chosen to call themselves. The chairman was a slim, nearly bald, youthful-faced man in his fifties by the name of Artur Walco. He met with Cletus in a large, clean, if somewhat sterile, office in a tall building as modern as any on Earth.

“I’m not sure what we have to talk about, Colonel,” Walco said when they were both seated on opposite sides of a completely clean desk showing nothing but a panel of controls in its center. “The AAC is enjoying good relationships currently with all the more backward colonies of this world.”

It was a conversational opening gambit as standard as king’s pawn to king’s pawn four in chess. Cletus smiled.

“My information was wrong, then?” he said, pushing his chair back from the desk and beginning to stand up. “Forgive me. I—“

“No, no. Sit down. Please sit down!” said Walco, hastily. “After you’ve come all the way here, the least I can do is listen to what you wanted to tell me.”

“But if there’s no need your hearing … ” Cletus was insisting, when Walco once more cut him short with a wave of his hand.

“I insist. Sit down, Colonel. Tell me about it,” he said. “As I say, there’s no need for your mercenaries here at the moment. But any open-minded man knows that nothing’s impossible in the long run. Besides, your correspondence intrigued us. You claim you’ve made your mercenaries more efficient. To tell you the truth, I don’t understand how individual efficiency can make much difference in a military unit under modern conditions of warfare. What if your single soldier is more efficient? He’s still just so much cannon fodder, isn’t he?”

“Not always,” said Cletus. “Sometimes he’s a man behind the cannon. To mercenaries, particularly, that difference is critical, and therefore an increase in efficiency becomes critical too.”

“Oh? How so?” Walco raised his still-black, narrow eyebrows.

“Because mercenaries aren’t in business to get themselves killed,” said Cletus. “They’re in business to win military objectives without getting themselves killed. The fewer casualties, the greater profit—both to the mercenary soldier and to his employer.”

“How, to his employer?” Walco’s eyes were sharp.

“An employer of mercenaries,” Cletus answered, “is in the position of any businessman faced with a job that needs to be done. If the cost of hiring it done equals or exceeds the possible profit to be made from it, the businessman is better off leaving the job undone. On the other hand, if the cost of having it done is less than the benefit or profit to be gained, then hiring the work accomplished is a practical decision. The point I’m making is that, with more efficient mercenary troops, military actions which were not profitable to those wishing them accomplished now become practical. Suppose, for example, there was a disputed piece of territory with some such valuable natural resource as stibnite mines—“

“Like the Broza Colony stibnite mines the Brozans stole from us,” shot out Walco.

Cletus nodded. “It’s the sort of situation I was about to mention,” he said. “Here we have a case of some very valuable mines out in the middle of swamp and forest stretching for hundreds of miles in every direction without a decent city to be found, worked and held onto by a backward colony of hunters, trappers and farmers. A colony, though, that is in possession of the mines by military forces supplied by the Coalition—that same Coalition, which takes its cut of the high prices you pay the Brozans for the antimony extracted from the stibnite.”

Cletus stopped speaking and looked meaningfully at Walco. Walco’s face had darkened.

“Those mines were discovered by us and developed by us on land we’d bought from Broza Colony,” he said. “The Coalition didn’t even bother to hide the fact that they’d instigated the Brozan’s expropriation of them. It was piracy, literal piracy.” Walco’s jaw muscles tightened. His eyes met Cletus’ across the desk top. “You picked an interesting example,” he said. “As a matter of theoretical interest, suppose we do go into the matter of expense, and the savings to be gained by the efficiency of your Dorsais in this one instance.”

A week later, Cletus was on his way back to the Dorsai with a contract for the three months’ hire of two thousand men and officers. He stopped at Bakhalla on Kultis on the way back to inform the Exotics that their loan was already promising to pay off.

“Congratulations,” said Mondar. “Walco has a reputation of being one of the hardest men on any world to deal with. Did you have much trouble persuading him?”

“There was no persuading involved,” answered Cletus. “I studied the situation on Newton for a point of grievance before I first wrote him. The stibnite mines, which are essentially Newton’s only native source of antimony, seemed ideal. So, in my correspondence after that I dwelt upon all those aspects and advantages of our troops under this new training, which would apply to just such a situation—but without ever mentioning the Brozan stibnite mines by name. Of course, he could hardly help apply the information I gave him to that situation. I think he was determined to hire us to recover the mines even before he met me. If I hadn’t brought up the subject, he would have.”

Mondar shook his head with a slow smile of admiration. “Did you take advantage of his good humor to ask him to consider the Maran core-tap plan?”

“Yes,” said Cletus. “You’ll have to send a representative to sign the actual papers, but I think you’ll find he’ll be falling over himself in his eagerness to sign the agreement.”

The smile vanished from Mondar’s face. “You mean he’s seriously interested?” Mondar demanded. “He’s interested in a situation in which they’d put up that kind of equipment and professional services simply in return for a long-term financial gam?”

“He’s not merely interested,” said Cletus. “You’ll find he’s pretty well determined not to let the chance get away, no matter what. You should be able to write your own terms.”

“I can’t believe it!” Mondar stared at him. “How in the name of eternity did you get him into such a favorable mood?”

“There wasn’t any real problem,” said Cletus. “As you say, the man’s a hard bargainer—but only when he’s bargaining from a position of strength. I began, after our talk about the Dorsais was done, by just dropping the hint that I was on my way to Earth, where I had family connections who’d help me in getting Alliance funds to help you set up the Maran core-tap. He was interested, of course—I think, at first, more in the prospect in getting some such sort of Alliance aid for Newton. But then I happened to dwell on some of the financial benefits the Alliance would receive in the long run in return for their help, and that seemed to start him thinking.”

“Yes,” murmured Mondar, “the Newtonian appetite for credit is real enough.”

“Exactly,” Cletus said. “Once he showed that appetite, I knew I had him hooked. I kept drawing him on until he, himself, suggested his Advanced Associated Communities might possibly be interested in putting up a small share themselves—perhaps supplying 20 per cent of the equipment, or an equivalent amount of the trained personnel, in return for no more than a five-year mortgage on property here on Bakhalla.”

“He did?” Mondar’s face became thoughtful. “It’s a steep price, of course, but considering our chances of actually getting Alliance money are practically nonexistent—“

“Just what I told him,” interrupted Cletus. “The price was so steep as to be ridiculous. In fact, I laughed in his face.”

“You did?” Mondar’s gaze sharpened. “Cletus, that wasn’t wise. An offer like that from a chairman of the board on Newton—“

“Is hardly realistic, as I frankly told him,” said Cletus. “I wasn’t likely to put myself in the position of carrying an offer from them to you that was penurious to the point of insult. After all, as I told him, I had an obligation to my Dorsais to maintain good relationships with the governments of all independent new worlds colonies—and on second thought, I’d even begun to feel a little doubtful that I ought to have mentioned the matter to him in any case. After all, I’d only been given authority to speak to my relatives and contacts back on Earth.”

“And he stood for that?” Mondar stared at Cletus. “He not only stood for it,” said Cletus, “he didn’t waste any time in apologizing and amending his offer to a more realistic level. However, as I told him, by this tune I was beginning to feel a little bit unsure about the whole business where he was concerned. But he kept on raising his offer until he was willing to supply the entire amount of necessary equipment, plus as many trained people as necessary to drill the core-tap and get it into operation as a power source. I finally agreed—reluctantly—to bring that offer back to you before going on to Earth.”

“Cletus!” Mondar’s eyes were alight. “You did it!”

“Not really,” said Cletus. “There was still that matter of the Newtonians requiring Bakhallan property as security in addition to a mortgage on the core-tap itself. I was due to leave the next day, so early that morning, before I left, I sent him a message saying I’d thought it over during the night and, since there was absolutely no doubt that the Alliance would be happy to finance the project with a mortgage merely on the basis of the core-tap mortgage alone, I’d decided to disregard his offer after all and go directly on to Earth.”

Mondar breathed out slowly. “With that much of an offer from him already in your hands,” he said—and from anyone but an Exotic the tone of the words would have been bitter—“you had to gamble on a bluff like that!”

“There wasn’t any gamble involved,” said Cletus. “By this time the man had talked himself into buying a piece of the project at any cost. I believe I could even have gotten more from him if I hadn’t already implied the limits of what the Alliance would do. So, it’s just a matter of your sending someone to sign the papers.”

“You can count on that. We won’t waste time,” answered Mondar. He shook his head. “We’ll owe you a favor for this, Cletus. I suppose you know that.”

“The thought would be a strange one to overlook,” said Cletus, soberly. “But I’m hoping Exotics and Dorsais have stronger grounds for mutual assistance in the long run than just a pattern of reciprocal favors.”

He returned to the Dorsai, eight days later, ship’s-time, to find the three thousand men, about whom he had messaged from Newton, already mobilized and ready to embark. Of these, only some five hundred were new-trained Dorsais. The other twenty-five hundred were good solid mercenary troops from the planet, but as yet lacking in Cletus’ specialized training. However, that fact did not matter; since the untrained twenty-five hundred would be essentially, according to Cletus’ plans, along only for the ride.

Meanwhile, before he left with them for Newton in three days’ time, there was his marriage to Melissa to accomplish. The negotiations at Bakhalla and on Newton had delayed him. As a result, he arrived—having messaged ahead that he would be there in time for the ceremony if he had to hijack an atmosphere ship to make it—less than forty-five minutes short of the appointed hour—all this, only to find the first news to greet him was that perhaps all his hurry had been needless.

“She says she’s changed her mind, that’s all,” Eachan Khan said to Cletus, low-voiced, in the privacy of the shadowed dining room. Over Eachan’s stiff shoulders Cletus could see, some thirty feet away, the chaplain of his regiment of new-trained Dorsais, along with the other guests, eating and drinking in light-hearted ignorance of the sudden, drastic change in plans. The gathering was made up of old, fast friends of Eachan’s and new, but equally fast, friends and officers of Cletus’. Among the mercenaries, loyalties were apt to be hard-won, but once won, unshakable. Those who were friends of Cletus’ outnumbered those of Eachan’s by more than two to one. Cletus had set up the invitation list that way.

“She says there’s something wrong,” said Eachan, helplessly, “and she has to see you. I don’t understand her. I used to understand her, before deCastries—” He broke off. His shoulders sagged under the jacket of his dress uniform. “But not any more.”

“Where is she?” asked Cletus.

“In the garden. The end of the garden, down beyond the bushes in the summer house,” said Eachan.

Cletus turned and went out one of the french doors of the dining room toward the garden. Once he was out of sight of Eachan, he circled around to the parking area and the rented car he had flown out here from Foralie.

Opening the car, he got out his luggage case and opened it. Inside were his weapon belt and sidearm. He strapped the belt around his waist, discarding the weather flap that normally protected the polished butt of the sidearm. Then he turned back toward the garden.

He found her where Eachan had said. She was standing in the summer house with her back to him, her hands on the white railing before her, looking through a screen of bushes at the far ridge of the surrounding mountains. At the sound of his boots on the wooden floor of the summer house, she turned to face him.

“Cletus!” she said. Her face was quite normal in color and expression, although her lips were somewhat firm. “Dad told you?”

“Yes,” he answered, stopping in front of her. “You should be inside getting ready. As it is we’re going to have to go ahead just the way we are.”

Her eyes widened slightly. A look of uncertainty crept into them. “Go ahead?” she echoed. “Cletus, haven’t you been up to the house? I thought you said you’d already talked to Dad.”

“I have,” he said.

“Then … ” She stared at him. “Cletus, didn’t you understand what he said? I told him—it’s wrong. It’s just wrong. I don’t know what’s wrong about it, but something is. I’m not going to marry you!”

Cletus looked at her. And, as she gazed back at him, Melissa’s face changed. There crept into her face that expression that Cletus had seen her wear only once before. It was the look he had seen on her face after he had emerged alive from the ditch in which he had played dead in order to destroy with the dally gun the Neulander guerrillas who had attacked their armored car on its way into Bakhalla.

“You don’t … you can’t think,” she began, barely above a whisper. But then her voice firmed. “You can force me to marry you?”

“We’ll hold the ceremony,” he said.

She shook her head, disbelievingly. “No Dorsai chaplain would marry me against my will!”

“My regimental chaplain will—if I order it,” Cletus said.

“Marry the daughter of Eachan Khan?” she blazed, suddenly. “And I suppose my father’s simply going to stand still and watch this happen?”

“I hope so—sincerely,” answered Cletus, with such a slow and meaningful emphasis on the words that color leaped into her face for a second and then drained away to leave her as pale as a woman in shock.

“You … ” Her voice faltered and stopped. Child of a mercenary officer, she could not have failed to notice that, among those present for the wedding, those bound to Cletus by emotional or other ties outnumbered those bound to her father by two to one. But her eyes on him were still incredulous. They searched his face for some indication that what she saw there was somehow not the true Cletus.

“But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t … ” Her voice failed again. “Dad’s your friend!”

“And you’re going to be my wife,” Cletus answered.

Her eyes fell for the first time to the sidearm in the uncapped holster at his waist.

“Oh, God!” She put a slim hand to each side of her face. “And I thought Dow was cruel—I won’t answer. When the chaplain asks me if I’ll take you for my husband, I’ll say no!”

“For Eachan’s sake,” said Cletus, “I hope not.”

Her hands fell from her face. She stood like a sleepwalker, with her arms at her sides.

Cletus stepped up to her, took her arm and led her, unresisting, out of the summer house up through the garden, through a hedge and back in through the french doors to the dining room. Eachan was still there, and he turned to face them quickly as they came in, putting down the glass he held and stepping quickly forward to meet them.

“Here you are!” he said. His gaze sharpened suddenly on his daughter. “Melly! What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Cletus answered. “There’s no problem, after all. We’re going to get married.”

Eachan’s gaze switched sharply to Cletus. “You are?” His eyes locked with Cletus’ for a second, then went back to Melissa. “Is this right, Melly? Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” said Cletus. “You’d better tell the chaplain we’re ready now.”

Eachan did not move. His eyes raked downward and stared deliberately at the weapon in its holster on Cletus’ hip. He looked back up at Cletus, and then at Melissa.

“I’m waiting to hear from you, Melly,” Eachan said slowly. His eyes were as gray as weathered granite. “You haven’t told me yet that everything’s all right.”

“It’s all right,” she said between stiff, colorless lips. “It was your idea I marry Cletus in the first place, wasn’t it, Dad?”

“Yes,” said Eachan. There was no noticeable change in his expression, but all at once a change seemed to pass over him, sweeping away all emotion and leaving him quiet, settled and purposeful. He took a step forward, so that he stood now almost between them, looking directly up into Cletus’ face from a few inches away. “But perhaps I was making a mistake.”

His right hand dropped, seemingly in a casual way, to cover Cletus’ hand where it held Melissa’s wrist. His fingers curled lightly about Cletus’ thumb in a grip that could be used to break the thumb if Cletus did not release his hold.

Cletus dropped his other hand lightly upon the belt of the weapon at his side.

“Let go,” he said softly to Eachan.

The same deadly quietness held them both. For a second there was no movement in the room, and then Melissa gasped.

“No!” She forced herself between them, facing her father, her back toward Cletus, his hand still holding her wrist, now behind her back. “Dad! What’s the matter with you? I’d think you’d be happy we’ve decided to get married after all!”

Behind her, Cletus let go of her wrist and she brought the formerly imprisoned arm around before her. Her shoulders lifted sharply with the depth of her breathing. For a moment Eachan stared at her blankly, and then a little touch of puzzlement and dismay crept into his eyes.

“Melly, I thought … ” His voice stumbled and fell silent.

“Thought?” cried Melissa, sharply. “What, Dad?”

He stared at her, distractedly. “I don’t know!” he exploded, all at once. “I don’t understand you, girl! I don’t understand you at all.”

He turned away and stamped back to the table where he had put his drink down. He picked it up and swallowed heavily from it.

Melissa went to him and for a second put her arm around his shoulders, laying her head against the side of his head. Then she turned back to Cletus and placed a cold hand on his wrist. She looked at him with eyes that were strangely deep and free of anger or resentment.

“Come along, then, Cletus,” she said, quietly. “We’d better be getting started.”

It was some hours later before they were able to be alone together. The wedding guests had seen them to the door of the master bedroom in newly built Grahame House, and it was only when the door was shut in their faces that they finally left the building, the echo of their laughter and cheerful voices fading behind them.

Wearily, Melissa dropped into a sitting position on the edge of the large bed. She looked up at Cletus, who was still standing.

“Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked at her. The moment he had foreseen when he had asked her to marry him was upon him now. He summoned up courage to face it.

“It’ll be a marriage in name only,” he said. “In a couple of years you can get an annulment.”

“Then why marry me at all?” she said, her voice still empty of blame or rancor.

“DeCastries will be back out among the new worlds within another twelve months,” he said. “Before he came, he’d be asking you to come to Earth. With your marriage to me, you lost your Earth citizenship. You’re a Dorsai, now. You can’t go—until you’ve had the marriage annulled and reapplied for Earth citizenship. And you can’t annul the marriage right away without letting Eachan know I forced you to marry me—with the results you know, the same results you agreed to marry me to avoid, right now.”

“I would never let you two kill each other,” she said. Her voice was strange.

“No,” he said. “So you’ll wait two years. After that, you’ll be free.”

“But why?” she said. “Why did you do it?”

“Eachan would have followed you to Earth,” said Cletus. “That’s what Dow counted on. That’s what I couldn’t allow. I need Eachan Khan for what I’ve got to do.”

He had been looking at her as he talked, but now his eyes had moved away from her. He was looking out the high, curtained window at one end of the bedroom, at the mountain peaks, now just beginning to be clouded with the afternoon rains that would in a few months turn to the first of autumn snows.

She did not speak for a long time. “Then,” she said, at last “you never did love me?”

He opened his mouth to answer, for the moment was upon him. But at the last minute, in spite of his determination, the words changed on his lips.

“Did I ever say I did?” he answered, and, turning, went out of the room before she could say more.

Behind him, as he closed the door, there was only silence.