But how then was he to reach her—off-world? There would be only one organization—outside of, of course, the ever-present Patrol—which could bear such a command along the star lanes after having first located her to whom it was to be given. The Guild again—
Zarn sighed. He poked at a roll of leather. Wealth beyond the raising of any one Lair—at least four of the richest had been stripped to gather that. And the Guild were no unpaid benefactors—they would demand more for such a task. Still—deep in him he was certain of only one thing: he could not trust the Guild to the point of blood oath— the Sister who had already gone starward would carry out any true order to the death.
Get her free from her present bond—and he had only until the Guild Veep returned to do so. He swept the sticks together and rolled them into a bag he thrust into a concealed holder under the low table. This he must do himself.
The roll containing the jewels he took to the wall behind the seat mats and touched several places there to open a small cavity. But before he stowed his packet inside he surveyed the present contents of that hiding place. With a sigh he flicked another box into place beside the packet, and then closed the cavity.
For him to approach the House of Jewels openly in daylight and be sighted, would cause talk—and not the kind of talk his position in the old city welcomed. But there was no help for it. He could only depend on a hooded cloak, such as one of the mountain priests wore, or a disguise— a very flimsy one.
The Mistress of Jewels received him in her own chamber and listened to his terse outline of what had to be done and why. She frowned.
'This you ask casts a stain on honor. We are also issha, and we live by the Five Oaths! Once a mission has been honorably taken and the Shadow oathed, only a successful completion—or death—releases the Sister. You ask much— too much!'
'This is a threat to us all.' Zarn dared not tell her the truth; only a handful knew it and if he spoke without permission he would be word-broke—disgraced until he could not even redeem himself with his own life taking.
'In what way, Shagga?' She was not going to give in easily. He could feel the sweat beads gather at his hairline in spite of all his inner effort to appear above emotion.
'I cannot be word-broke,' he decided that he could be this frank with her, 'but it is such a danger that we have not known since the Refusal of Gortor.' The mention of that portentous action which had nearly wiped out all the Shadow breed was never uttered idly. Surely that would impress her!
Her eyes had widened slightly and now her fingers sketched Ward-off-Perils-of-the-Far-Night.
'You swear this?' she asked.
Zarn's knife was in plain sight. Deliberately he extended his heart-finger and pressed the tip of that sharp narrow blade into the flesh, until a bead of red showed. Withdrawing the knife he held out his hand where the drop of blood welled larger. The woman looked straight into his eyes and then down at that finger. With her own heart- finger she touched his and Zarn knew inwardly a great relief. She had accepted, she would do it!
'The oathed one has gone off-world, there is no way a Shadow message can reach her—' the woman continued.
Zarn shook his head. 'There is a way, that I also oath swear.'
For a moment she looked dubious. But the promise he had just given her was so binding she had to accept that he believed he could carry it out.
'Very well. The word is Flow Cloud.'
The word which would trigger oath release—Zarn almost shivered. That was something sacred, by custom used only by a Lair Master to release one from a mission accomplished. To pass such to another was a perilous thing, but in this he had no choice.
Once again in his own chamber, the packet and box from the cavity prominently ranged before him on the table, he busied himself with another small twiglet of stick, this of a dull black in color and no longer than his heart- finger. With a very small tool, such as one who set gems would use, he made his scratches on the stick. First the release word and then the second oathing—one which would bind the Sister to her second and most important mission. He was barely finished in time, for one of his household came to announce the return of the Veep. If she agreed—but she must! He called on that inner way which, it was said, one truly in difficulty could use as an inducement—holding to it like body armor as the off-world woman came in.
YOU UNDERSTAND THAT UNDER THE CODE 1732X you must be held.' Patrol Captain Ilan Sandor eyed his listeners coldly. 'If the Tssekian government demands that you be turned over to answer charges of fomenting riot, of plotting, you cannot claim sanctuary here.'
'We are escaped prisoners.' Zurzal's return was as evenly voiced. 'We were brought to Tssek against our will and in defiance of interstellar law. I have not yet heard that kidnapping is a legal form of obtaining immigrants.'
'You have one story—'
'Backed by a truth reader,' Zurzal interrupted. His neck frill was stirring. 'We had no voice in our coming here; we were kept prisoner by the then recognized government— forced to accede to certain demands made upon us.'
'And you precipitated a revolution!' the captain snapped.
For the first time the port officer spoke. 'As you have seen, Captain'—he motioned to a number of reader discs lying on the desk between the two parties—'there was preparation for such a rising long in the making before the arrival of this Learned One.'
'With'—the captain showed no softening—'this infernal machine of his! That at least we can take care of —'
Zurzal's frill flamed a violent yellow-red. 'It is under the seal of the Zacathan explorative service, Captain. I do not think that even your all-powerful organization is going to dispute ownership.'
