He did explain, up to the point where his arrangements to pay back for a ship and cargo turned into a runaway success, and now he was responsible for the employment of innumerable bookkeepers and clerks in the insurance companies he'd come to own. There was also the fact that as the emigrant fleet went on, about fifty more planets would require the attention of pirate ships from time to time, or there would be disillusionment and injury to the economic system.
"Organization," said his grandfather, "does wonders for a tender conscience like you've got. What else?"
Hoddan explained the matter of his Darthian crew and how Don Loris might consider them disgraced because they hadn't cut his throat. Hoddan had to take care of the matter. And there was Nedda . . . Fani came into the story somehow, too. Hoddan's grandfather grunted, at the end.
"We'll go down and talk to this Don Loris," he said pugnaciously. "I've dealt with his kind before. While we're down, your cousin Oliver'll take a look at this new grid-field job. We'll put it on my ship. Hm . . . how about the time down below? Never land long after daybreak. Early in the morning, people ain't at their best."
Hoddan looked at Darth, rotating deliberately below him.
"It's not too late, sir," he said. "Will you follow me down?"
His grandfather nodded briskly, took another comprehensive look at the loot from Walden, and crawled back through the tube to his own ship.
So it was not too long after dawn, in that time zone, when a sentry on the battlements of Don Loris' castle felt a shadow over his head. He jumped a foot and stared upward. Then his hair stood up on end and almost threw his steel helmet off. He stared, unable to move a muscle.
There was a ship above him. It was not a large ship, but he could not judge of such matters. It was not supported by rockets. It should have been falling horribly to smash him under its weight. It wasn't. Instead, it floated down with a very fine precision, like a ship being landed by grid, and settled delicately to the ground some fifty yards from the base of the castle wall.
Immediately thereafter there was a muttering roar. It grew to a howclass="underline" a bellow: it became thunder. It increased from that to a noise so stupendous that it ceased altogether to be heard, and was only felt as a deep-toned battering at one's chest. When it ended there was a second ship resting in the middle of a very large scorched place close by the first.
A landing-ramp dropped down from the battered craft. It neatly spanned the scorched and still-smoking patch of soil. A port opened. Men came out, following a jaunty small figure with bushy gray whiskers. They dragged an enigmatic object behind them.
Hoddan came out of the yacht. His grandfather said waspishly:
"This the castle?"
He waved at the massive pile of cut gray stone, with walls twenty feet thick and sixty high.
"Yes, sir," said Hoddan.
"Hm," snorted his grandfather. "Looks flimsy to me!" He waved his hand again. "You remember your cousins."
Familiar, matter-of-fact nods came from the men of the battered ship. Hoddan hadn't seen any of them for years, but they were his kin. They wore commonplace, workaday garments, but carried weapons slung negligently over their shoulders. They dragged the cryptic object behind them without particular formation or apparent discipline, but somehow they looked capable.
Hoddan and his grandfather strolled to the castle gate, their companions a little to their rear. They came to the gate. Nothing happened. Nobody challenged. There was the feel of peevish refusal to associate with persons who landed in spaceships.
"Shall we hail?" asked Hoddan.
"Nah!" snorted his grandfather. "I know his kind! Make him make the advances." He waved to his descendants. "Open it up."
Somebody casually pulled back a cover and reached in and threw switches.
"Found a power broadcast unit," grunted Hoddan's grandfather, "on a ship we took. Hooked it to the ship's space-drive. When y'can't use the space-drive, you still got power. Your cousin Oliver whipped this thing up."
The enigmatic object made a spiteful noise. The castle gate shuddered and fell halfway from its hinges. The thing made a second noise. Stones splintered and began to collapse. Hoddan admired. Three more unpleasing but not violently loud sounds. Half the wall on either side of the gate was rubble, collapsing partly inside and partly outside the castle's proper boundary.
Figures began to wave hysterically from the battlements. Hoddan's grandfather yawned slightly.
"I always like to talk to people," he observed, "when they're worryin' about what I'm likely to do to them, instead of what maybe they can do to me."
Figures appeared on the ground-level. They'd come out of a sally-port to one side. They were even extravagantly cordial when Hoddan's grandfather admitted that it might be convenient to talk over his business inside the castle, where there would be an easy chair to sit in.
Presently they sat beside the fireplace in the great hall. Don Loris, jittering, shivered next to Hoddan's grandfather. The Lady Fani appeared, icy cold and defiant. She walked with frigid dignity to a place beside her father. Hoddan's grandfather regarded her with a wicked, estimating gaze.
"Not bad!" he said brightly. "Not bad at all!" Then he turned to Hoddan. "Those retainers coming?"
"On the way," said Hoddan. He was not happy. The Lady Fani had passed her eyes over him exactly as if he did not exist.
There was a murmuring noise. A dozen spearmen came marching into the great hall. They carried loot. It dripped on the floor and they blandly ignored such things as stray golden coins rolling off away from them. Stay-at-home inhabitants of the castle gazed at them in joyous wonderment.
Nedda came with them. The Lady Fani made a very slight, almost imperceptible movement. Hoddan said desperately:
"Fani, I know you hate me, though I can't guess why. But here's a thing that had to be taken care of! We made a raid on Walden—that's where the loot came from—and my men kidnapped this girl. Her name is Nedda. Nedda's in an awful fix, Fani! She's alone and friendless, and somebody just has to take care of her! Her father'll come for her eventually, no doubt, but somebody's got to take care of her in the meantime, I can't do it." Hoddan felt hysterical at the bare idea. "I can't!"
The Lady Fani looked at Nedda. And Nedda wore the brave look of a girl so determinedly sweet that nobody could possibly bear it.
"I'm very sorry," said Nedda bravely, "that I've been the cause of poor Bron's turning pirate and getting into such dreadful trouble. I cry over it every night before I go to sleep. He treated me as if I were his sister, and the other men were so gentle and respectful that I—I think it will break my heart when they are punished. When I think of them being formally and coldly executed . . ."
"On Darth," said the Lady Fani practically, "we're not very formal about such things. Just cutting somebody's throat is usually enough—but he treated you like a sister, did he? Thal?"
Thal swallowed. He'd been beaming a moment before, with his arms full of silver plate, jewelry, laces, and other bits of booty from the town of Ensfield. But now he said desperately:
"Yes, Lady Fani. But not the way I've treated my sister. My sisters, Lady Fani, bit me when they were little, slapped me when they were bigger, and scorned me when I grew up. I'm fond of 'em! But if one of my sisters'd ever lectured me because I wasn't refined, and shook a finger at me because I wasn't gentlemanly—Lady Fani, I'd've strangled her!"
There was a certain gleam in the Lady Fani's eye as she said warmly to Hoddan:
"Of course I'll take care of the poor thing! I'll let her sleep with my maids and I'm sure one of them can spare clothes for her to wear, and I'll take care of her until a spaceliner comes along and she can be shipped back to her family. And you can come to see her whenever you please, to make sure she's all right!"