"Well, Larry, I don't have anybody to clean up for me-"

"I'll send her over to help until you get something permanent set up. One thing, be polite to her. I always am-ah. Thank you, Sara."

She set down two large tankards and curtsied. They drank. "Good beer," Elliot said. "Soft duty up here."

"You wouldn't say that if you'd seen me today," Warner said. "Working on fuels for the balloon. Hot air's all right, but I think I can figure a way to make hydrogen for the next one. If I can make a good sizing for the cloth to seal it so it'll hold hydrogen."

"Hydrogen. What's the matter, Professor, afraid you'll run out of hot air after the first one?"

"Ho-ho. Anyway, now that the cloth's here I can really get to work. Have any trouble?"

"I don't ever have trouble, Professor."

"Yeah." Actually, Warner thought, that must have been a hell of an expedition. Mercs, locals, Tamaerthan archers, pack animals for the trade goods, more pack animals for the fodder-taking a zoo like that over muddy roads and through the hills couldn't have been much of a picnic.

"Usual market for this stuff is Rome," Elliot said. "So we got it at a good price."

"Where? Rustengo?"

"Found a whole warehouse full about a hundred klicks north of there. With the roads to Rome closed off they were grateful for the chance to sell."

"Hmm. And the Romans really like the stuff-"

"That's what I hear."

"Maybe a good bargaining point for Miss Gwen. I think we'll send a messenger tomorrow to tell her."

"All right by me. I got a few other items of interest."

"Good. Seriously, did you run into any trouble?"

Elliot grinned. "Nothing I can't handle, Professor. Some bandits in the hills outside Viys. About two hundred."

"That's damned near an army, around here."

"We. unlimbered the H amp;K's," Elliot said. "No sweat." He seemed pleased at the memory. "Didn't have to use too many rounds, either. After that, nobody wanted to give us any gas. Word spread pretty fast."

"Yeah. No sign of Gengrich?"

"No. He could have been trouble."

Larry Warner nodded. "I hear he's set up as a pirate king. One of these days we may have to deal with him. More beer?"

"Sure. And don't forget to tell that girl 1 want to borrow her. You're right about Gengrich, they're scared of him down there. But they're scared of everything. The whole south's talking about the Roman situation. Half of 'em want the Romans to keep on fighting each other. Long as that war goes, the Roman frontier posts aren't manned, and the southerners have a place to send the refugees that keep streaming in.

"Then there's the others, who mutter about the lost trade, and how things are going to hell. And all the priests of Yatar are out soapboxin' about The Time, and how they better store up food against the years of famine-"

"They're right there," Warner said. "One reason for this University. We're as much an agricultural research station as anything else. And there's our travelling road shows-"

"Right. Captain said I was to help you get those organized." Elliot stretched elaborately. "Larry, things look pretty good, considerin' where the Cubans had us."

"Sure," Warner said.

"Relax. Captain Galloway knows what he's doing."

"I hope so," Warner said. "Damn, I hope so."

Rick put down the report from Sergeant Elliot and nodded in satisfaction. Tylara came and took it from the table. She puzzled over each word.

"I'll read it to you if you like," Rick said.

"I'll ask you to do so. Later," she said. She went on reading.

"Your English is getting very good," Rick said. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." She went on poring over the parchment, her finger resting at each word. Finally she looked up. "You have promised mediation in the Roman Wars," she said. "You had Elliot make that promise in our names."

"Yes."

"You did not consult me about this, yet the promise is as Eqeta of Chelm-"

"Dammit, I don't have to consult you! I am the Eqeta of Chelm!"

"So much for your fine promises," she said. "We rule as equals. But you are perhaps more equal than I."

"I am also Captain-General of Drantos, War Chief of Tamaerthon, and Colonel of Mercenaries," Rick said. "Posts I had before I married you. Do you tell me everything you do?"

"The important things. Must we quarrel?"

"That's what I was going to ask."

"Then let us not. I was going to say that I approve of your strategem in the south. It brought us the cloth at a lower price, and there is no way for them to know if you keep the promise. Soon no one on Tran will be teaching you anything about bargaining."

In spite of Tylara's heart-stopping smile, Rick wasn't entirely sure those words were a compliment. He frowned. "I intend to keep the promise and try to negotiate a peace, if we can't give Marselius a victory."

She stared at him. "That is impossible. How can there be peace in Rome after three seasons of war?"

"Not easily, I admit," said Rick. "But if Marselius issues the proclamation I'm about to suggest, the chances will be better. He should announce that he will punish no man for any act done in obedience to a proclaimed Caesar. I've already proposed to the ambassador that Flaminius do the same. A mutual pardon for everything done during the war." They did that during the Wars of the Roses, when the English Parliament formally legislated that no man could commit treason by obeying a crowned king. If they hadn't, there wouldn't have been a Yorkist or Lancastrian left.

"Marselius might agree. He might even keep such an agreement. Not Flaminius. The man is a fool. Otherwise he wouldn't have pushed Marselius into rebellion at all."

"Perhaps Flaminius wouldn't agree, by himself. But can he go against all of his commanders? They're losing soldiers, sons, estates. Some of them must be wiser than he is about what needs to be done to prepare for The Time. If they no longer need fear for their lives, who knows what advice they might give? I don't."

"It is still a pardon for treason. Do we want anyone to make the lot of the rebel so much easier?"

"There are different kinds of rebels, it seems to me. Marselius with his legions is not the same as a mountain bandit with a dozen ragged followers."

"Not in your eyes, at least. I hope that this does not mean that all starmen take their oaths as lightly as Colonel Parsons did."

Rick sighed. When she got this sharp-tongued, he could either change the subject or be sure of a fight. It wasn't worth having a fight now. He would have to lead her gradually if at all toward his own position on how to treat rebels. There were going to be many of them, as The Time approached. The Time itself would kill enough people on Tran. If being generous with pardons could reduce the toll of life and property from the rebellions, wasn't it at least worth trying?

It wouldn't be Tylara's way, of course. For her or any other Tran dynast, the rule for rebels had been, whenever possible, "Hang first and ask questions afterward." One more thing to be changed. If possible.

The charts on his office wall grew more detailed, and he collected chests of papers.

Item. It had been the warmest spring in living memory. Some farmers, heeding the priests of Yatar, planted early, and found their crops growing high. Others waited. All chanced heavy rains and hail. The entire pattern of Tran agriculture was changing.

Rick's survey teams went through the land, teaching and gathering data.

According to the reports, they did more data gathering than teaching; but they had accomplished the first agricultural survey in Tran history. What crops here? What last year? Are you using the new plows introduced by the University? What fertilizers?

Those using the new plows were able to get their seeds in so fast they were heard to talk of being able to get a second crop before winter. Those who'd used the new plows the year before talked even louder. With more fodder during the winter, their draft animals were stronger than usual.