Palafox shook his head gravely. "We are not so rash as we seem. No Dominie walks abroad without means to protect himself."
"Do you refer to your reputed wizardry?"
Palafox shook his head. "We are not magicians. But we have surprising weapons at our command."
Bustamonte surveyed the brown and gray costume which afforded no scope for concealment. "Whatever your weapons, they are not now in evidence."
"I hope not."
Bustamonte drew the black cloak over his knees. "Let us put ambiguity aside."
"Gladly."
"I control Pao. Therefore I call myself Panarch. What do you say to that?"
"I say that you have performed an exercise in practical logic. If you now bring Beran to me, the two of us will depart and leave you to the responsibilities of your office."
Bustamonte shook his head. "Impossible."
"Impossible? Not at all."
"Impossible for my purposes. Pao is ruled by continuity and tradition. Public emotion demands Beran's accession. He must die, before news of Aiello's death reaches the world."
Palafox thoughtfully fingered the black mark of his mustache. "In that case it is already too late."
Bustamonte froze. "What do you say?"
"Have you listened to the broadcast from Eiljanre? The announcer is speaking at this moment."
"How do you know?" demanded Bustamonte.
Palafox indicated the sound-control in the arm of Bustamonte's chair. "There is the means to prove me wrong."
Bustamonte thrust down the knob. A voice issued from the wall, thick with synthetic emotion. "Pao, grieve! All Pao, mourn! The great Aiello, our noble Panarch is gone! Dole, dole, dole! Bewildered we search the sad sky, and our hope, our only sustention in this tragic hour is Beran, the brave new Panarch! Only let his reign prove as static and glorious as that of great Aiello!"
Bustamonte swung upon Palafox like a small black bull. "How did the news get abroad?"
Palafox replied with easy carelessness. "I myself released it."
Bustamonte's eyes glittered. "When did you do this? You have been under constant surveillance."
"We Breakness dominie," said Palafox, "are not without subterfuge."
The voice from the wall droned on. "Acting under the orders of Panarch Beran, the Mamarone have efficiently subaqueated the responsible criminals. Ayudor Bustamonte is serving Beran with wholehearted loyalty, and will help maintain equilibrium."
Bustamonte's fury seethed to the surface. "Do you think you can thwart me by such a trick?" He signaled the Mamarone. "You wished to join Beran. So you shall--in life and, at tomorrow's first light, in death."
The guards were at Palafox's back. "Search this man!" cried Bustamonte. "Inspect him with care!"
The guards subjected Palafox to a most minute scrutiny. Every stitch of his clothes was examined; he was patted and prodded with complete lack of regard for dignity.
Nothing was discovered; no tool, weapon or instrument of any kind. Bustamonte watched the search in unashamed fascination, and seemed disappointed at the negative result.
"How is this?" he asked scornfully. "You, a Wizard of Breakness Institute! Where are the devices, the infallible implements, the mysterious energetics?"
Palafox, who had submitted to the search without emotion, replied in a pleasant voice, "Alas, Bustamonte, I am not at liberty to answer your questions."
Bustamonte laughed coarsely. He motioned to the guard. "Take him to confinement."
The neutraloids seized Palafox's arms.
"One final word," said Palafox, "for you will not see me again on Pao."
Bustamonte agreed. "Of this I am sure."
"I came at Aiello's wish to negotiate a contract.
"A dastardly mission!" Bustamonte exclaimed.
"Rather an exchange of surpluses to satisfy each of our needs," said Palafox. "My wisdom for your population."
"I have no time for abstruseness." Bustamonte motioned to the guards. They urged Palafox toward the door.
"Allow me my say," spoke Palafox gently. The guards paid him no heed. Palafox made a small twitch, the neutraloids cried out and sprang away from him.
"What's this?" cried Bustamonte, jumping to his feet
"He burns! He radiates fire!"
Palafox spoke in his quiet voice, "As I say, we will not meet again on Pao. But you will need me, and Aiello's bargain will seem very reasonable. And then you must come to Breakness." He bowed to Bustamonte, turned to the guards. "Come, now we will go."
CHAPTER IV
BERAN SAT with his chin on the window sill, looking out into the night. The surf phosphoresced on the beach, the stars hung in great frosty clots. Nothing else could be seen.
The room was high in the tower; it seemed very dreary and bleak. The walls were bare fiber; the window was heavy cleax; the door fitted into the aperture without a seam. Beran knew the room for what it was--a confinement chamber.
A faint sound came from below, the husky grunting of a neutraloid's laugh. Beran was sure that they were laughing at him, at the miserable finale to his existence. Tears rose to his eyes, but, in the fashion of Paonese children, he made no other show of emotion.
There was a sound at the door. The lock whirred, the door slid back. In the opening stood two neutraloids, and, between them, Lord Palafox.
Beran came hopefully forward--but the attitudes of the three halted him. The neutraloids shoved Palafox forward. The door whirred shut. Beran stood in the center of the room, crestfallen and dejected.
Palafox glanced around the room, seeming instantly to appraise every detail. He put his ear to the door, listened, then took three long elastic strides to the window. He looked out. Nothing to be seen, only stars and surf. He touched his tongue to a key area on the inside of his cheek; an infinitesimal voice, that of the Eiljanre announcer, spoke inside his inner ear. The voice was excited. "Word has reached us from Ayudor Bustamonte on Pergolai: serious events! In the treacherous attack upon Panarch Aiello, the Medallion was likewise injured, and his survival is not at all likely! The most expert doctors of Pao are in constant attendance. Ayudor Bustamonte asks that all join to project a wave of hope for the stricken Medallion!"
Palafox extinguished the sound with a second touch of his tongue; he turned to Beran, motioned. Beran came a step or two closer. Palafox bent to his ear, whispered, "We're in danger. Whatever we say is heard. Don't talk, just watch me--and move quickly when I give the signal!"
Beran nodded. Palafox made a second inspection of the room, rather more slowly than before. As he went about his survey, a section of the door became transparent; an eye peered through.
In sudden annoyance Palafox raised his hand, then restrained himself. After a moment the eye disappeared, the wall became once more opaque.
Palafox sprang to the window; he pointed his forefinger. A needle of incandescence darted forth, cut a hissing slot through the cleax. The window fell loose, and before Palafox could catch it, disappeared into the darkness.
Palafox whispered, "Over here now! Quick!" Beran hesitated. "Quick!" whispered Palafox. "Do you want to live? Up on my back, quick!"
From below came the thud of feet, voices growing louder.
A moment later the door slid back; three Mamarone stood in the doorway. They stopped, stared all around, then ran to the open window.
The captain turned. "Below, to the grounds! It's deep water for all, if they have escaped!"
When they searched the gardens they found no trace of Palafox or Beran. Standing in the starlight, darker than the darkness, they argued in their soft voices, and presently reached a decision. Their voices ceased; they themselves slid away through the night.