Jhal Arn leaned forward. "Tell me, when this power seized you, was there a sensation as of mental cold?"
Korkhann looked astonished. "How could you guess that, Highness?"
Jhal Arn did not answer, but between him and his brother flashed a look that was grim and somber.
A chamberlain entered the room, announcing dignitaries whom Jhal Arn greeted with formal protocol. Gordon, hearing the names of some and recognizing others, felt a sharp wonder.
No fewer than three star-kings had come to this secret meeting... young Sath Shamar of Polaris, the aging long-regent of Cassiopeia, and the dark, crafty-looking sovereign of the Kingdom of Cepheus. There were chancellors of two other kingdoms present, and also one of the mightiest of the powerful Hercules Barons, Jon Ollen. His domain stretched so far from the Cluster to the edge of the Marches that it was actually bigger than some of the smaller kingdoms.
He now looked like a worried man, his cadaverous face gloomy in expression. Gordon remembered his galactography well enough to realize that every realm represented here lay near the Marches of Outer Space.
Jhal Arn began without preamble. "You've all heard the rumors that certain of the counts of the Marches are preparing some mysterious and dangerous aggression. It threatens all of you but first it threatens Fomalhaut, which is why Korkhann and my friend John Gordon have come here."
Jhal Arn emphasized the word "friend," and the men who had ignored Gordon until this moment, glanced at him sharply.
Jhal Arn went on, "Tell them what happened at Teyn, Korkhann."
Korkhann told them. When he finished, there was a silence. Then young Sath Shamar said troubledly, "Of mysterious cowled strangers we have heard nothing. But lately the counts of the Marches have become highhanded with us at Polaris, and have threatened us with powers they say could destroy us."
The tight-faced ruler of Cepheus added nothing, but the old regent of Cassiopeia nodded confirmation. "There is something in the Marches... never have the counts been so insolent with us."
Korkhann looked at the baron and said softly, "You have something more than this, Jon Ollen? It seems to me that you are withholding something from us."
Jon Ollen's cadaverous face flushed dull red with anger and he exclaimed, "I will not have my mind read, telepath!"
"And how," asked Korkhann deprecatingly, "could I do that when you have kept a guard upon your thoughts since you entered this chamber?"
Jon Ollen said sullenly, "I don't want to hunt for trouble. My barony is close up against the Marches, closer than any of your domains. If there is danger, I am most vulnerable to it."
Jhal Arn's voice rang decisively. "You are an ally of the Empire. If danger attacks you, we come in with you at once. If you know anything, say it."
Jon Ollen looked undecided, worried, troubled. It was a minute before he spoke.
"I know but little, really. But... inside the Marches, not far from our frontier, is a world known as Aar. And mysterious things have happened that seem to focus on that world."
"What kind of things?"
"A merchant ship returned to my barony from the Marches, traveling on an insane course. Our cruisers could not understand its behavior. They ran it down and boarded it. Every man aboard it was raving mad. The automatic log-recorder showed that the ship had touched down last at Aar. Then another ship that passed near Aar sent off a distress call that was suddenly smothered. And that ship was never heard from again."
"What else?"
Jon Ollen's face lengthened. "There came to my court Count Cyn Cryver of the Marches. He said that certain scientific experiments had made Aar dangerous and suggested we order all ships to avoid it. But "suggested" is hardly the word... he ordered me to do this."
"It would seem," muttered Jhal Arn thoughtfully, "that Aar is at least one focal point of the mystery."
"We could send a squadron in there to find out quickly," said Zarth Arn.
"But what if there's nothing really there?" cried Jon Ollen. "The counts would hold me responsible for the incursion. You must understand my position."
"We understand it," Jhal Arn assured him. And to his brother, "No, Zarth. The baron is right. If there's nothing there we'd have angered the counts by an invasion of their domain, to the point of starting a border war all through the Marches. We'll slip a small unmarked scout into the Marches with a few men who can investigate the place. Captain Burrel, you can lead them."
Gordon spoke up for the first time in that meeting. "I will go with Hull. Look, I'm the only one except Korkhann, who's not fitted for this kind of mission, to have seen one of the counts' cryptic allies. At Teyn, remember."
"Why am I not fitted for such a mission?" Korkhann demanded, his feathers seeming to ruffle up with anger.
"Because no one else is so well fitted to be Princess Lianna's right-hand man, and she mustn't lose you," said Gordon soothingly.
"It's a risky thing," muttered Jon Ollen. "I beg of you one thing... if you are caught, please don't implicate me in this."
"Your concern for the safety of my friends is overpowering," said Jhal Arn acidly.
The baron disregarded the sarcasm. He got to his feet. "I shall return home at once. I don't want to be mixed up in this affair too much. Your Highnesses... gentlemen... good night."
When he had gone out, Sath Shamar uttered an oath. "It's what I'd have expected of him. In the battle with the Dark Worlds, when the other barons gave the galaxy an example of space-fighting it can never forget, he held back until sure that Shorr Kan was defeated."
Jhal Arn nodded. "But the strategic position of his domain makes him valuable as an ally, so we have to put up with his selfishness."
When the star-kings and chancellors had left, Jhal Arn looked a little sadly at Gordon.
"I wish you were not set on going, my friend. Did you come back to us, only to risk your life?"
Gordon saw Korkhann looking at him, and knew what was in his mind. He remembered Lianna's bitter farewell, her accusation that it was the danger and wild beauty of this wider universe that had drawn him back here, and not love for her. He stubbornly told himself it wasn't true.
"You have said yourself," he reminded Jhal Arn, "that this danger most threatens Fomalhaut. And whatever threatens Lianna is my affair."
He was not sure that Jhal Arn believed him, and he was quite sure that Korkhann did not believe him at all.
Three days later a very small ship lay at the naval starport of Throon. It was a phantom scout, with all the insignia removed. The small crew did not wear uniforms, nor did Hull Burrell, who was to captain it.
In the palace, before he left, Gordon had a final word from Zarth Arn.
"We hope you come back with information, John Gordon. But if you don't... then in thirty days three full Empire squadrons will head for that world of Aar."
Gordon was surprised and a little appalled. "But that could lead to war in the Marches. Your brother admitted it."
"There are worse things than a border war," Zarth Arn said somberly. "You must remember our history that you learned before. You remember Brenn Bir?"
The name rang in Gordon's memory. "Of course. Your remote ancestor, the founder of your dynasty... the leader who repelled the alien invasion from the Magellanic Clouds outside the galaxy."
"And who wrecked part of the galaxy doing it," Zarth Arn nodded. "We still have his records, archives that the galaxy knows nothing about. And some detail in the description you and Korkhann gave of the cowled stranger at Teyn made us look into those archives."