that he oaths undertakes another commission until the first oath is blood erased. He is angry that you have questioned this and tried to lay a new duty on me. Though it does not greatly matter, as the path I follow now leads off-world and I will not be here to serve as your hound. I will be star borne at sunrise.' She spoke without emotion though the other's growing rage was almost a tangible thing.
'By the Death of Shagga—'
She had been on the point of turning to leave, now her hooded head was on her shoulder.
'Master's oath—not Shagga—is my bond, and so it has always been. Apply to the Master for the weapon you wish, priest.'
And she was gone. He twisted his hands together as if he had them about her neck. Fools, worse than fools! Traitors if what he and others suspected was true! Now—there was nothing he could do this night, save think. And think he must.
JOFRE SAT UNEASILY AND TOO COMFORTABLY ON ONE OF those platform-raised cushion chairs. He was facing the outer wall of the room, which was a curve as transparent as were the divisions in the lobby below. There was a faint sprinkling of watch lights from the old town, reflections of the more brilliant illumination here. At his side, on a waist-high table, stood a drinking vessel, seeming so fragile a too quick grasp might shatter it, the green of verjuice showing through its sides.
Zurzal, having equipped himself with a drink also— which as mysteriously appeared as had the verjuice in a wall space after the Zacathan had pressed some buttons— seated himself opposite his only partly willing guest.
'You say you are not oathed.'
'I cannot be—there is no Master who will coswear with me.'
Jofre had dropped his pack by the door. It would be ready to hand when he left.
'You are issha—is there any way that you can retreat from that?'
Jofre stiffened. What games did the alien want to play? Surely fortune had not been that good to him that he could find employment so easily, even for a short time.
'I am issha.'
'I know something of the Shadow Brothers,' the Zacathan continued. 'It is part of the nature of my race to learn all we can about the ways and customs of others. It is true that your services are always contracted for through a Lair Master. How much power has this Shagga priest of yours?'
Jofre considered. 'In oathing the Masters alone control us. The Shagga sometimes serve as special eyes and ears, they are advisors to the Masters—'
'The Masters can overrule them then?'
'Twice in our history it has been so. But to those who disputed with the Shagga misfortune came later—they were assha lost.'
'As was your Master,' Zurzal pointed out. 'Could it be that he was a target then for Shagga ill will?'
Jofre swallowed. 'He did not listen to advice he thought was too conservative, too lacking in a desire to learn new.'
'So he therefore became one of the Elder Shadows.'
'How do you know what—' Jofre flared.
'I told you, I would learn all that I can. There is talk in the old city of the Brothers, perhaps some of it rumor only; but even in rumor there is a core of truth. Think, Night wanderer, your Master was not a second voice for Shagga and he is now gone. Just as you have been hunted forth from the fellowship. You are freed by the very one who would condemn you, the Shagga. You have no Master save yourself. Therefore as a self-master you may be oathed.'
Jofre swallowed. Dimly perhaps he had known a little of this but some back-looking part of him had not allowed him to put it so frankly.
'You want an oathed issha?' he asked now, trying to read the alien's face, which provided no features he could interpret after any pattern which he knew.
Zurzal took a long drink from his glass. 'After tonight do you not think that I need a bodyguard? For a while I am not even a whole man.' He set down the drink and his hand went to the sealing of his suit. With a quick jerk he had it open to the waist and back from his left shoulder and arm. For there was an arm there—or the beginning of one—a length of bone and flesh and a child-size hand.
'One of the attributes of my people,' he informed Jofre. 'We can regrow a lost limb but the process takes time and it is time I do not have right now. Therefore, I need aid.'
'There are surely off-worlders who are guards—like those below—'
'They are not oathed men. You see, I know your customs, issha-trained. With an oathed man out of the Shadows I need have no fear of any treachery or carelessness. I lost this,' he moved the small arm, 'because I could not be ever on guard. I need you, Night wanderer. I offer you oathed status.'
There was a pause and then the Zacathan continued. 'What I wish to do here on Asborgan is only a beginning. Oath with me and it will mean the stars. You or any other in your place must have such a warning.'
The stars—then what the Master had thought was true. On other worlds there were doubtless the same feuds, the same intrigues, the same covert wars for power that the lords here played. And this Zacathan had already suffered maiming—which meant—
'You have a blood feud?' Jofre asked—such he could understand and be prepared to undertake.
