After the Starkad affair, Flandry thought, you would. Between us, Max Abrams and I wrecked a scheme concocted by none less than Brechdan Ironrede, Protector of the Roidhun’s Grand Council.

How much do you know about that, Tachwyr? You were only put to showing me around and trying to pump me, when Abrams and I were on your world as part of the Hauksberg mission. And the truth about Starkad was never made public; no one concerned could afford to let it come out.

You do remember us, though, Tachwyr. If nothing else, you must have gathered that we were instrumental in causing Merseia quite a bit of trouble. It bothers you to have found me here.

Better get off the subject. “You remain through tomorrow? I admit Irumclaw has less to offer than Merseia, but I’d like to return part of the courtesy you gave me.”

Again Tachwyr was slow to speak. “Thank you, negative. I have already arranged to tour the area with shipmates.” The Eriau phrasing implied a commitment which no honorable male would break.

Flandry reflected that a male would not ordinarily bind himself so strongly to something so minor.

What the devil? the human thought. Maybe they aim to sample our well-known Terran decadence and he doesn’t want me to realize their well-known Merseian virtue can slack off that much. “Stay in a party,” he warned. “Some of those bars are almost as dangerous as the stuff they serve.”

Tachwyr uttered the throaty laugh of his species, settled down on the tripod of feet and tail, and started yarning. Flandry matched him. They enjoyed themselves until the man was called away to interpret a tedious conversation between two engineer officers.

Chapter II

Such was the prologue. He had practically forgotten it when the adventure began. That was on a certain night about eight months later.