Bright rose. Standing wide-legged and shoulder-bent above the smooth, almost reflective surface of the gray desk, the resemblance to the back-alley scrapper for the moment outweighed the Torquemada in his appearance.

“You come back to us,” he said, slowly and harshly, “and pretend not to know how you betrayed us?”

“Betrayed you?” Donal considered him with a quietness that was almost ominous. “How — betrayed you?”

“We sent you out to do a job.”

“I believe I did it,” said Donal dryly. “You wanted a watchtower over the Godless. You wanted a permanent installation on Zombri to spot any buildup on the part of the Exotics to attack you. You remember I asked you to set out in plain terms what you were after, a few days back. You were quite explicit about that being just what you wanted. Well — you’ve got it!”

“You limb of Satan!” blared Bright, suddenly losing control. “Do you pretend to believe that you thought that was all we wanted? Did you mink the anointed of the Lord would hesitate on the threshold of the Godless?” He turned and stalked suddenly around the desk to stand face to face with Donal. “You had them in your power and you asked them only for an unarmed observation station on a barren moon. You had them by the throat and you slew none of them when you should have wiped them from the face of the stars, to the last ship — to the last man!”

He paused and Donal could hear his teeth gritting in the sudden silence.

“How much did they pay you?” Bright snarled.

Donal stood in an unnatural stillness.

“I will pretend,” he said, after a moment, “that I didn’t hear that last remark. As for your questions as to why I asked only for the observation station, that was all you had said you wanted. As to why I did not wipe them out — wanton killing is not my trade. Nor the needless expenditure of my own men in the pursuit of wanton killing.” He looked coldly into Blight’s eyes. “I suggest you could have been a little more honest with me, Eldest, about what you wanted. It was the destruction of the Exotic power, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” gritted Bright.

“I thought as much,” said Donal. “But it never occurred to you that I would be a good enough commander to find myself in the position to accomplish that. I think,” said Donal, letting his eyes stray to the other two black-clad elders as well, “you are hoist by your own petard, gentlemen.” He relaxed; and smiling slightly, turned back to Bright. “There are reasons,” he said, “why it would be very unwise tactically for the Friendly Worlds to break the back of Mara and Kultis. If you’ll allow me to give you a small lesson in power dis—”

“You’ll come up with better answers than you have!” burst out Bright. “Unless you want to be tried for betrayal of your employer!”

“Oh, come now!” Donal laughed out loud.

Bright whirled away from him and strode across the gray room. Flinging wide the door by which Donal had entered, and they had exited, he revealed the three elite guard soldiers. He whirled about, arm outstretched to its full length, finger quivering.

“Arrest that traitor!” he cried.

The guards took a step toward Donal — and in that same moment, before they had any of them moved their own length’s-worth of distance toward him — three faint blue beams traced their way through the intervening space past Bright, leaving a sharp scent of ionized air behind them. And the three dropped.

Like a man stunned by a blow from behind, Bright stared down at the bodies of his three guards. He swayed about to see Donal reholstering his handgun.

“Did you think I was fool enough to come here unarmed?” asked Donal, a little sadly. “And did you think I’d submit to arrest?” He shook his head. “You should have wit enough to see now I’ve just saved you from yourselves.”

He looked at their disbelieving faces.

“Oh, yes,” he said. He gestured to the open wall at the far end of the office. Sounds of celebration from the city outside drifted lightly in on the evening breeze. “The better forty per cent of your fighting forces are out there. Mercenaries. Mercenaries who appreciate a commander who can give them a victory at the cost of next to no casualties at all. What do you suppose their reaction would be if you tried me for betrayal, and found me guilty, and had me executed?” He paused to let the thought sink in. “Consider it, gentlemen.”

He pinched his jacket shut and looked grimly at the three dead elite guards; and then turned back to the elders, again.

“I consider this sufficient grounds for breach of contract,” he said. “You can find yourself another War Chief.”

He turned and walked toward the door. As he passed through it, Bright shouted after him.

“Go to them, then! Go to the Godless on Mara and Kultis!”

Donal paused and turned. He inclined his head gravely.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “Remember — The suggestion was yours.”

There remained the interview with Sayona the Bond. Going up some wide and shallow steps into the establishment — it could not be called merely a building, or group of buildings — that housed the most important individual of the two Exotic planets, Donal found cause for amusement in the manner of his approach.

Farther out, among some shrubbery at the entrance to the — estate? — he had encountered a tall, gray-eyed woman and explained his presence.

“Go right ahead,” the woman had said, waving him onward. “You’ll find him.” The odd part of it was, Donal had no doubt that he would. And the unreasonable certainty of it tickled his own strange sense of humor.

He wandered on by a sunlit corridor that broadened imperceptibly into a roofless garden, past paintings, and pools of water with colorful fish in them — through a house that was not a house, in rooms and out until he came to a small sunken patio, half-roofed over; and at the far end of it, under the shade of the half-roof, was a tall bald man of indeterminate age, wrapped in a blue robe and seated on a little patch of captive turf, surrounded by a low, stone wall.

Donal went down three stone steps, across the patio, and up the three stone steps at the far side until he stood over the tall, seated man.

“Sir,” said Donal. “I’m Donal Graeme.”

The tall man waved him down on the turf.

“Unless you’d rather sit on the wall, of course,” he smiled. “Sitting cross-legged doesn’t agree with everyone.”

“Not at all, sir,” answered Donal, and sat down cross-legged himself.

“Good,” said the tall man; and apparently lost himself in thought, gazing out over the patio.

Donal also relaxed, waiting. A certain peace had crept into him in the way through this place. It seemed to beckon to meditation; and — Donal had no doubt — was probably cleverly constructed and designed for just that purpose. He sat, comfortably now, and let his mind wander where it chose; and it happened — not so oddly at all — to choose to wander in the direction of the man beside him.

Sayona the Bond, Donal had learned as a boy in school, was one of the human institutions peculiar to the Exotics. The Exotics were two planetsful of strange people, judged by the standards of the rest of the human race — some of whom went so far as to wonder if the inhabitants of Mara and Kultis had developed wholly and uniquely out of the human race, after all. This, however, was speculation half in humor and half in superstition. In truth, they were human enough.

They had, however, developed their own forms of wizardry. Particularly in the fields of psychology and its related branches, and in that other field which you could call gene selection or planned breeding, depending on whether you approved or disapproved of it. Along with this went a certain sort of general mysticism. The Exotics worshiped no god, overtly, and laid claim to no religion. On the other hand they were nearly all — they claimed, by individual choice — vegetarians and adherents of nonviolence on the ancient Hindu order. In addition, however, they held to another cardinal nonprinciple; and this one was the principle of noninterference. The ultimate violence, they believed, was for one person to urge a point of view on another — in any fashion of urging. Yet, all these traits had not destroyed their ability to take care of themselves. If it was their creed to do violence to no man, it was another readily admitted part of their same creed that no one should therefore be wantonly permitted to do violence to them. In war and business, through mercenaries and middlemen, they more than held their own.