"Just beyond the strait is a rather narrow valley, though The River there is a mile wide. There are grailstones there, but no one lives there. I suppose because of the current, which is so strong it precludes fishing or sailing anywhere but through the straits. Then, too, The Valley gets little sunshine. There is, though, a sort of bay about a half-mile up where boats may anchor.

"A few miles above the bay, The Valley widens considerably. There begins the land of the enormous-nosed hairy giants, the titanthrops or orgres. From what I've heard, so many of these have been killed that half the population is now your ordinary-sized human."

Goring paused, knowing that what he would say would, or should, be vastly interesting to the others.

"It's estimated that it's only twenty thousand miles from the strait to the headwaters of The River."

He was trying to give John the idea that it might be better to keep on going. If the headwaters were so close, why should he stop here to fight? Especially, since he was likely to be defeated. Why not go to the headwaters and from there launch the expedition toward the misty tower?

John said, "Indeed."

If he had taken the bait, he gave no sign of having done so. He seemed interested only in the strait and the immediate area beyond it.

After some questions from John about these, Hermann understood what John was considering. The bay would be an excellent place for the rewinding. The strait would be near ideal for waiting for the Not For Hire. If the Rex could catch it while it was coming through the strait, it could loose some torpedoes in the passage. These would have to be remotely controlled, though, since the strait curved at least three times.

Also, if John docked in the bay, he would keep his crew from the pacifistic influence of the Second Chancers.

Goring's speculations on John's thinking was right. After a day's visit with La Viro, John up-anchored the Rex and took it through the strait. It anchored again at the bay, and a floating anchored dock was built from the shore to the vessel. From time to time, King John and some of his officers, or just his officers, would come in a launch to Aglejo. Though invited to stay overnight or longer, they never did so.

John assured La Viro that he was not going to venture out onto the lake for a battle.

La Viro pleaded with him to negotiate for an honorable peace with La Viro as intermediary.

John refused during the first two meetings with La Viro. Then, on the third, he surprised La Viro and Goring by agreeing.

"But I think it will be a waste of time and effort," John said. "Clemens is a monomaniac. I'm sure he thinks of only two things. Getting his boat back and killing me."

La Viro was happy that John was at least willing to make the effort. Hermann was not so happy. What John said and what John did were often not the same.

Despite La Viro's urgings, John refused to permit missionaries to talk to his crew about the Church. He had set up armed guards at the end of the cliff-path to insure that the missionaries didn't come over it. His excuse, of course, was that he didn't want to be attacked by Clemens' marines. La Viro told John that he had no right to prevent nonhostiles from crossing over. John replied that he had signed no agreement with anyone concerning passage on the path. He held it, and that made him the determiner of the rights.

Three months passed. Hermann waited for his chance to get Burton and Frigate to one side when they came to Aglejo. Their visits were very infrequent and when they did come in he could never get them alone.

One morning, Hermann was summoned to the Temple. La Viro gave him the news, which had just come via the relay drums. The Not For Hire would be at Aglejo in two weeks. Goring was to meet it at the same place he'd boarded the Rex.

Even though Clemens had not been friendly when Hermann had known him in Parolando, he hadn't been murderous. When Goring went up to the pilothouse, he was surprised to feel happy at seeing Clemens and the gigantic titanthrop, Joe Miller. Moreover, the American recognized him within four seconds of their introduction. Miller claimed to have known him within a second by his odor.

"Although," Miller said, "you don't thmell ekthactly as you uthed to. You thmell better than then."

"Perhaps it's the odor of sanctity," Hermann said and laughed.

Clemens grinned, and said. "Virtue and vice have their own chemistries? Well, why not? How do I smell after these forty years of travel, Joe?"

"Thomething like old panther pithth," Joe said.

It wasn't quite like old friends meeting after a long absence. But Goring felt that, for some reason, they were as pleased to see him as he was them. Perhaps/it was a perverted kind of nostalgia. Or guilt may have played some part in it. They may have felt responsible for what had happened to him at Parolando. They shouldn't, of course, since Clemens had done his best to make him leave the state before something violent happened to him.

They told him in brief outline what had occurred since they'd last seen him. And he described his experiences since then.

They went down to the grand salon to get a drink and to introduce him to various notables. Cyrano de Bergerac was called down from the flight deck, where he'd been fencing.

The Frenchman remembered him, though not well. Clemens described again what Hermann had been doing, and then de Bergerac recalled the lecture Goring had given.

Time had certainly worked some changes with Clemens and de Bergerac, Hermann thought. The American seemed to have shed his great dislike for the Frenchman, to have forgiven him because he had taken Olivia Clemens as his mate. The two now were on easy terms, chatting, joking, laughing.

There came a time when the good time had to end. Hermann said, "I suppose you've heard that King John's boat came to Aglejo three months ago? And that it's waiting for you just beyond the strait at the western end of the lake?"

Clemens swore and said, "We've known that we were closing the gap between us fast. But no, we didn't know that he'd stopped running!"

Hermann described what had happened since he'd boarded the Rex.

"La Viro still hopes that you and John will be able to forgive each other. He says that after this long a time, it doesn't matter whose fault it was in the beginning. He says..."

Clemens' face was red and grim.

"It's easy enough for him to talk of forgiveness!" he said loudly. "Well, let him talk from now until doomsday about forgiveness, and I won't stop him! A sermon never hurt anybody, and it's often beneficial—if you need a nap.

"But I haven't come this far after all the hardships and heartaches and treacheries and griefs just to pat John on the head and tell him what a good boy he is beneath all that rottenness and then kiss and make up.

" ‘Here, John, you worked hard to get my boat and to keep it from all those thieving rascals that tried to take your hard-earned Riverboat away from you. What the hell, John, I loathed, despised, and detested you, but that was a long time ago. I don't carry a grudge long; I'm a good-hearted sap.'

"The hell I am!" Clemens roared. "I'm going to sink his boat, the boat I once loved so much! I wouldn't have it now! He's dishonored it, made it into crap, stunk it up! I'll sink it, get it out of sight. And one way or another, I'm ridding this world of John Lackland. When I'm done with him, his name'll be John Lacklife!"

"We were hoping," Hermann said, "that after all these years, two generations as they used to be counted, that your hatred had cooled, perhaps entirely died. That..."

"Well, sure, it did," Clemens said, with a sarcastic tone. "There were minutes, days, weeks, even months, even a year now and then, that I didn't think of John. But when I tired of this eternal travel on The River, when I longed to go ashore and stay ashore and get the racket of the paddlewheels out of my ears and the never-ending routine, the three-times-a-day stop to recharge grails and batacitor, the always-going-on arguments to settle and the ever-recurring administrative details to manage and my heart stopping every once in a while when I saw a face that looked like my beloved Livy or Susy or Jean or Clara only to find out that she was none of them.... Well, then when I tired and almost gave up, almost said, ‘Here, Cyrano, you take over the captainship. I'm going ashore and get some rest and have a good time, and forget about this monstrous beauty and you take it on up The River and don't bring it back,' then I remembered John and what he'd done to me and what I was going to do to him. And then I'd gather my forces together, and I'd cry, ‘Forward, onward, excelsior! Keep going until we've caught up with Evil John and sent him to the bottom of The River!' And that, the thought of my duty and my dearest desire, to make John squeal before I wrung his neck, is what's kept me going for, as you describe it, two generations!"