dominate Ballenkarch. It is laughable. In fifty years the Ballenkarts would be whipping the Thearchs from the gates of Divinal and burning the Tree for a victory bonfire.
«Consider the alternative–Ballenkarch tied to Mangtse. A period of tribulation, profit for none. And now the Druids will have no choice–they will have to buckle down and
«The Druids might or might not lose the reins of power–but Kyril would remain an integrated industrial unit and there would go the natural market for Mang products. So you see, with the Kyril and Ballenkarch markets both removed our own Mang economy would dwindle, suffer. We would be forced to recover our markets by military action and we might lose.»
«I understand all this,» said Joe slowly, «but it gets nowhere. Just what do you want?»
«Ballenkarch is self-sufficient. At the moment neither Mangtse nor Kyril can exist alone. We form a natural couple. But as you see the Druids are dissatisfied with the influx of wealth. They demand more and they think to acquire it by controlling the Ballenkarch industries.
«I want to prevent this–and I also want to prevent a Mangtse-Ballenkarch understanding, which would be
«Too bad the three worlds can't form a common council.»
Hableyat sighed. «That idea, while felicitous, flies in the face of three realities. First, the current policy of the Druids–second, the ascendancy of the Red-branch on Mangtse–and third, the ambitions of the Prince of Ballenkarch. Change all three of these realities and such a union might be consummated. I for one would approve it–why not?» he mused as if to himself and behind the bland yellow mask Joe glimpsed the face of a very tired man.
«What will happen to you now?»
Hableyat pursed his lips dolefully. «If my authority actually has been superseded I will be expected to kill myself. Don't look bewildered–it is a Mang custom, a method of underscoring disapproval. I fear I am not long for the world.»
«Why not return to Mangtse and repair your political fences?»
Hableyat shook his head. «That is not our custom. You may smile but you forget that societies exist through general agreement as to certain symbols, necessities which must be obeyed.»
«Here comes the air-car,» said Joe. «If I were you, instead of committing suicide, I'd try to work out some kind of scheme to get the Prince on your side. He seems to be the key. They're both after him, Druids and Mangs.»
Hableyat shook his head. «Not the Prince. He's a queer man, a mixture of bandit, jester and visionary. He seems to regard this new Ballenkarch as an interesting game, a sportive recreation.»
The aib-car landed, a big-bellied transport in need of paint. Two large men in red knee-length breeches, loose blue jackets, black caps, swaggered from the air-car, wearing the placidly arrogant expressions of a military elite.
«Lord Prince sends his greetings,» said the first to the Beland officer. «He understands that there are foreign agents among the passengers, so he will have all who land conveyed before him at once.»
There was no further conversation. Into the car trooped Elfane and Hableyat, the two Druids clutching their portable altar, the Mangs, glaring yellow-eyed at Hableyat, and Joe. These were all for Ballenkarch–the Cils and the aged woman in the black gown would continue their journey to Castlegran, Cil or Beland and none were discharged from the hold.
Joe crossed the fuselage, dropped into a seat beside Elfane. She turned her head, showed him a face which seemed drained of its youth. «What do you want with me?»
«Nothing. Are you angry with me?»
«You're a Mang spy.»
Joe laughed uneasily. «Oh–because I'm thick with Hableyat?» «What did he send you to tell me now?»
The question took Joe aback. It opened up a vista for speculation. Could it be possible that Hableyat was using him as a means to convey ideas of Hableyat's choosing to the Druids through Elfane?
He said, «I don't know whether or not he wanted this to reach you. But he explained to me why he's been helping you bring your Tree here and it sounds convincing to me.»
«In the first place,» said Elfane scathingly. «We have no more Tree. It was stolen from us at Junction.» Her eyes widened and she looked at him with a sudden suspicion. «Was that your doing too? Is it possible that.»
Joe sighed. «You're determined to think the worst of me. Very well. If you weren't so damned beautiful and appealing I would think twice about you. But you're planning to bust in on the Prince with your two milk-faced Druids and you think you can wind him around your finger. Maybe you can. I know very well you'd stop at nothing. And now I'll get off my chest what Hableyat said and you can do what you like with the information.»
He glared at her, challenging her to speak, but she tossed her head and stared hard out the window.
«He believes that if you succeed in this mission, then you and your Druids will wind up playing second fiddle to these tough Ballenkarts. If you don't succeed –well, the Mangs will probably figure out something unpleasant for you personally but the Druids–according to Hableyat–eventually will come out ahead.»
«Go away,» she said in a choked voice. «All you do is scare me. Go away.»
«Elfane–forget all this Druid-Mang-Tree-of-Life stuff and I'll take you back to Earth. That is if I get off the planet alive.»
She showed him the back of her head. The car buzzed, vibrated, rose into the air. The landscape dished out below them. Massive mountains shot and marbled with snow and ice, luxuriant meadowland with grass glowing the sharp bright color of prismatic green, spread below. They crossed the range. The car jerked, jolted in bumpy air, slanted down toward an inland sea.
A settlement, obviously raw and new, had grown up on the shore of this sea. Three heavy docks, a dozen large rectangular buildings–glass-sided, roofed with bright metal–formed the heart of the town. A mile beyond a promontory covered with trees overlooked the sea and in the shadow of this promontory the car grounded.
The door opened. One of the Ballenkarts motioned brusquely. «This way.»
Joe followed Elfane to the ground and saw ahead a long low building with a glass front looking across the vista of sea and plain. The Ballenkart corporal made another peremptory motion. «To the Residence,» he said curtly.
Resentfully Joe started for the building, thinking that these soldiers made poor emissaries of good will. His nerves tautened as he walked. The atmosphere was hardly one of welcome. The tension, he noticed, gripped everyone. Elfane moved as if her legs were rigid. Erru Kametin's jaw shone bright yellow along the bone line.
At the rear Joe noticed Hableyat speaking urgently with the two Druid missionaries. They seemed reluctant. Hableyat raised his voice. Joe heard him say, «What's the difference? This way you at least have a chance, whether you distrust my motives or not.» The Druids at last appeared to acquiesce. Hableyat marched briskly ahead and said in a loud voice, «Halt! This impudence must not go on!»
The two Ballenkarts swung around in amazement. With a stern face Hableyat said, «Go, get your master. We will suffer this indignity no longer.»
The Ballenkarts blinked, slightly crestfallen to find their authority questioned. Erru Kametin, eyes snapping, said, «What are you saying, Hableyat? Are you trying to compromise us in the eyes of the Prince?»
Hableyat said, «He must learn that we Mangs prize our dignities. We will not stir from this ground until he
