The last man to be heard was Sigil Paniche, business representative from Mercantil, the planet of a nearby sun. Paniche was a thin man, quick and clever, with copper-colored skin and burnished hair, which he wore wound into knobs and fastened with turquoise clasps. He was a typical Mercantil, a salesman and trader, as essentially urban as the Paonese were people of soil and sea. His world sold to the entire cluster; Mercantil space-barges roved everywhere, delivering machinery, vehicles, air-craft, communication equipment, tools, weapons, power-generators, returning to Mercantil with foodstuffs, luxury hand-crafts and whatever raw material might be cheaper to import than to synthesize.
Bustamonte whispered to Aiello, who shook his head. Bustamonte whispered more urgently; Aiello turned him a slow caustic side-glance. Bustamonte sat back sullenly.
At a signal from Aiello, the captain of the Mamarone guard addressed the table in his soft scraped-steel voice. "By the Panarch's order, all those who have completed their business will depart."
Across the table, only Sigil Paniche, his two aides, and the stranger in brown and gray remained.
The Mercantile moved to a chair opposite Aiello; he bowed, seated himself, his aides coming to stand at his back.
Panarch Aiello spoke an off-hand greeting; the Mercantile responded in broken Paonese.
Aiello toyed with a bowl of brandied fruit, appraising the Mercantil. "Pao and Mercantil have traded for many centuries, Sigil Paniche."
The Mercantil bowed. "We fulfill the exact letter of our contracts--this is our creed."
Aiello laughed shortly. "Trade with Pao has enriched you."
"We trade with twenty-eight worlds, Supremacy."
Aiello leaned back in his chair. "There are two matters I wish to discuss with you. You have just heard our need for water on Impland. We require an installation to demineralize an appropriate quantity of ocean-water. You may refer this matter to your engineers.
"I am at your orders, sir."*
*--------------------*
The Paonese and Mercantil languages were as disparate as the two ways of living. The Panarch, making the statement, "There are two matters I wish to discuss with you," used words which, accurately rendered, would read: "Statement-of-importance (a single word in Paonese)--in a state of readiness--two; ear--of Mercantil--in a state of readiness; mouth--of this person here--in a state of volition." The italicized words represent suffixes of condition.
The necessary paraphrasing makes the way of speaking seem cumbersome. But the Paonese sentence, "Rhomel-en-shrai bogal-Mereantil-nli-en moun-es-nli-ro." requires only three more phonemes than, "There are two matters I wish to discuss with you."
The Mercantil express themselves in neat quanta of precise information. "I am at your orders, sir." Literally translated this is: "I--Ambassador--here--now gladly-obey the just spoken--orders of--you--Supreme Royalty--here--now heard and understood."
Aiello spoke in a level emotionless voice, almost casual. "We have ordered from you, and you have delivered, large quantities of military equipment."
Sigil Paniche bowed agreement. With no outward sign or change, he suddenly seemed uneasy. "We fulfilled the exact requirements of your order."
"I cannot agree with you," Aiello responded.
Sigil Paniche became stiff; his words were even more formal than before, "I assure Your Supremacy that I personally checked delivery. The equipment was exactly as described in order and invoice."
Aiello went on in his coldest tones. "You delivered sixty-four* barrage monitors, 512 patrol flitters, a large number of multiple resonators, energetics, wasps and hand-weapons. These accord with the original order."
"Exactly, sir."
"However, you knew the purpose behind this order."
Sigil Paniche bowed his copper-bright head. "You refer to conditions on the planet Batmarsh."
"Just so. The Dolberg dynasty has been eliminated. A new dynasty, the Brumbos, have assumed power. New Batch rulers customarily undertake military ventures."
"Such is the tradition," agreed the Mercantil.
"You have supplied these adventurers with armament"
Sigil Paniche once again agreed. "We sell to any who will buy. We have done so for many years--you must not reproach us for this."
Aiello raised his eyebrows. "I do not do so. I reproach you for selling us standard models while offering the Brumbo Clan equipment against which you guarantee we will be powerless."
Sigil Paniche blinked. "What is the source of your information?"
"Must I divest myself of every secret?"
*--------------------*
*The Paonese number system is based on the number 8. Hence, a Paonese 100 is 64, 1000 is 512, etc.
"No, no," exclaimed Paniche. "Your allegations, however, seem mistaken. Our policy is absolute neutrality."
"Unless you can profit by double-dealing."
Sigil Paniche drew himself erect. "Supremacy, I am official representative of Mercantil on Pao. Your statements to me, therefore, must be regarded as formal insults."
Aiello appeared to be faintly surprised. "Insult a Mercantil? Preposterous!"
Sigil Paniche's skin burnt vermilion.
Bustamonte whispered in Aiello's ear. Aiello shrugged, turned back to the Mercantil. His voice was cool, his words carefully measured. "For the reasons I have stated, I declare that the Mercantil contract has not been fulfilled. The merchandise will not perform its function. We will not pay."
Sigil Paniche affirmed, The delivered articles meet the contractual specifications!" By his lights nothing more need be said.
"But they are useless to our need, a fact known on Mercantil."
Sigil Paniche's eyes gleamed. "No doubt Your Supremacy has considered the long-range effects of such a decision."
Bustamonte could not restrain a retort. "Better had the Mercantil consider the long-range effect of double-dealing."
Aiello made a small gesture of annoyance, and Bustamonte sat back.
Sigil Paniche looked over his shoulder to his two subordinates; they exchanged emphatic whispers. Then Paniche asked, "May I inquire as to what 'long-range effects' the Ayudor alluded?"
Aiello nodded. "I direct your attention to the gentleman at your left hand."
All eyes swung to the stranger in brown and gray. "Who is this man?" Sigil Paniche asked sharply. "I do not recognize his clothes."
Aiello was served a bowl of green syrup by one of the black and gold-clad maidens. Bustamonte dutifully sampled a spoonful. Aiello drew the bowl close to him, sipped. "This is Lord Palafox. He is here to offer us advice." He sipped once more from the bowl, pushed it aside. The maiden quickly removed it.
Sigil Paniche surveyed the stranger with cold hostility. His aides muttered to each other. Bustamonte sat slumped into his seat.
"After all," said Aiello, "if we can not rely upon Mercantil for protection, we must seek elsewhere."
Sigil Paniche once more turned to whisper with his counselors. There was a hushed argument; Paniche snapped his fingers in emphasis, the counselors bowed and became silent. Paniche turned back to Aiello. "Your Supremacy naturally will act as he thinks best. I must point out that the products of Mercantil are surpassed nowhere."
Aiello glanced at the man in brown and gray. "I am not disposed to dispute this point. Lord Palafox might have something to say."