Her tone, her contemptuous condescension, stung Joe. But money was money. Ears burning, he reached into the pouch, pulled out a sheaf of currency. Hundred-stiple notes, a dozen at least. He returned to the pouch and found a small hand-weapon of a make he did not recognize. He rucked it into his blouse. Then he wrapped the corpse in the scarlet robe and, rising, caught hold under the armpits.
Manaolo took the ankles. Elfane went to the door. «He's gone. Hurry!»
Five seconds saw the corpse stowed in the back. Elfane said to Joe, «Come with me.»
Wary of turning his back on Manaolo, Joe followed. She led him into a dressing room, pointed to a pair of cases. «Take them, load them in the back of the Kelt.»
«You will drive,» said Elfane. «Our route will be up to the fifth level, south over Divinal, across the bay and out to sea.»
Joe shook his head. «I'm not driving. In fact I'm not going.»
The sense of his words failed to penetrate at once. Then Elfane and Manaolo together turned their heads. Elfane was surprised with a lack of comprehension on her face rather than anger. Manaolo stood expressionless, his eyes dull, opaque.
Elfane said in a sharper voice, as if Joe had not understood her, «Go on out–you will drive.»
Joe casually slid his hand inside his blouse, where the little weapon rested. Manaolo's eyes flickered, the only movement of his face, but Joe knew his mind was agile and reckless.
«I don't intend driving you,» sail Joe. «You can easily ditch that corpse without me. I don't know where you're going or why. I know I'm not going with you.»
«I order you!» exclaimed Elfane. This was fantastic, insane–contrary to the axioms of her existence.
Joe shook his head, watching warily. «Sorry.»
Elfane dismissed the paradox from her mind. She turned to Manaolo. «Kill him here then.
Manaolo grinned regretfully. «I'm afraid the clobber-claw is aiming a gun at us. He will refuse to let me kill him.»
Elfane tightened her lips. «This is ridiculous.» She whirled. Joe brought out the gun. Elfane halted stock-still, words failing in her mouth.
«Very well,» she said in a subdued voice. «I'll give you money to be silent. Will that satisfy you?»
«Very much,» said Joe, smiling crookedly. Pride? What was pride? If it weren't for Margaret he'd enjoy... But no, she was plainly running off with this brilliant and dangerous Manaolo. Who would want a woman after his handling of her?
«How much?» asked Manaolo idly.
Joe calculated rapidly. He had four hundred stiples in his room, about a thousand he had taken from the corpse. He dismissed his calculations. Make it big. «Five thousand stiples and I've forgotten everything I've seen today.»
The figure apparently did not seem exorbitant to either of them. Manaolo felt in one pocket, then another, found a money-flap, riffled out a number of notes, tossed them to the floor.
«There's your money.»
Without a backward glance Elfane ran out on the plat, jumped into the Kelt. Manaolo strolled after her.
The Kelt jerked up, swung off into the clean air of Kyril. Joe was alone in the tall chamber.
He picked up the notes. Five thousand stiples! He went to the window, watched the air-car dwindle to a dot.
There was a small throb in his throat, a pang. Elfane was a wonderful creature. On Earth, had it not been for Margaret, he would have been entranced. But this was Kyril, where Earth was a fable. And Margaret, supple, soft, blonde as a field full of jonquils, was waiting for him to return. Or at least knew that
He became uneasily aware of his surroundings. Any one of a dozen persons might enter and find him. There would be difficulty explaining his presence. Somehow he had to return to his own quarters. He froze in his tracks. The sound of a door sliding brought an instant quickening of the pulse, a flush of sweat. He backed against the tapestry. Steps, slow, unhurried, came down the passageway.
The door scraped back. A man entered the room–a short yellow-skinned man in a blue velvet cloak– Hableyat.
HABLEYAT glanced briefly around the room, shook his head dolefully. «A bad business. Risky for all concerned.»
Joe, standing stiffly at the wall, found ready assent. Hableyat took a couple steps forward, peered at the floor. «Careless. Still much blood.»
He looked up, became conscious of Joe's stance. «But by all means be at your ease. Indeed be at your ease.» For a moment he inspected Joe impersonally. «No doubt your mouth has been crammed with money. A marvel you still live.»
Joe said dryly, «I was summoned here by the Priestess Elfane, who drove off in the Kelt. Otherwise I disassociate myself from the entire affair.»
Hableyat shook his head wistfully. «If you are found here with the blood on the floor you will be questioned. And since every effort will be made to hush up Empoing's assassination you will undoubtedly be killed to insure your silence.»
Joe licked his lips. «But isn't it from whom they want to hide the killing?»
Hableyat nodded. «No doubt. I represent the Power and Reach of the Mangtse Dail–that is, the Bluewater Faction. Empoing was born to the Red-streams, who follow a different school of thought. They believe in a swift succession of events.»
A strange idea formed in Joe's mind and would not be dismissed. Hableyat noticed the shift of his features. His mouth, a short fleshy crevice between the two yellow jowls, drew in at the corners.
«Yes indeed. I killed him. It was necessary, believe me. Otherwise he would have slaughtered Manaolo, who is engaged on a very important mission. If Manaolo were deterred it would be–from one viewpoint–a tragedy.»
The ideas were coming too fast–they fled by Joe's mind like a school of fish past a dip-net. It was as if Hableyat were displaying a tray full of bright wares, waiting to see which Joe would select.
Joe said warily, «Why are you telling me all this?»
Hableyat shrugged his meaty shoulders. «Whoever you are you are no simple chauffeur.»
«Ah-but
«Who or what you are has not yet been established. These are complex times, when many people and many worlds want irreconcilable things and every man's origin and intentions must be closely analyzed. My information traces you to Thuban Nine, where you served as an instructor of civil engineering at the Technical Institute. From Thuban you came to Ardemizian, then to Panapol, then to Rosalinda, then to Jamivetta, finally to Kyril.
«On each planet you remained only long enough to earn transportation to the next. There is a pattern here
