"You killed them!" exclaimed Dante, staring in fascination at the corpses. "All three of them!"
"They would have killed you," said Virgil. "And me, too, if they thought they could get away with it."
"You just walked right over and killed them!" repeated Dante. "In front of witnesses."
"So what?"
"So they'll report what they saw."
Virgil stared at him. "To who?"
Dante blinked rapidly. He tried to come up with an answer but realized he had none.
"Welcome to the Inner Frontier, poet."
"Just who the hell are you?" demanded Dante,
Virgil got up to leave. "You're the new Bard of the Inner Frontier," he said. "I'm sure you'll tell me before we hit the next world.
5.
The Scarlet Infidel is odd—
He has no quality of shame.
He spits into the eye of God,
And commits sins that have no name.
Virgil Soaring Hawk's skin wasn't really red, but Dante decided to exercise some poetic license, especially since Virgil kept referring to himself as a redskin.
Besides, the Scarlet part didn't interest Dante anywhere near as much as the Infidel part. Virgil would never discuss any details, but from what Dante heard on his first few worlds, the poet concluded that if a race of oxygen breathers—any race—was divided into sexes, Virgil had spent a night or two with a female member of that race and another night with a male. There were a few races that boasted more than two sexes, and Virgil had sampled some of their wares as well.
Virgil also didn't speak much about his other areas of physical prowess, but Dante noted most people were content to disapprove of the Scarlet Infidel from afar, that no one wanted any part of him in a fight.
As for Virgil, he was thrilled to be written up by the new Orpheus, and was constantly nagging Dante to give him more verses.
"Come on, now," he was saying as Dante's ship neared Tusculum II. "Orpheus gave Giles Sans Pitie nine verses. Giles Sans Pitie, for Christ's sake! Take away his metal hand and he was nothing, a second-rate bounty hunter. I mean, really, who the hell did he ever kill?"
"Who did you?" asked Dante.
"I'm not a bounty hunter, so I'm not in a position where I can brag about it without certain legal repercussions. But the things I've done, the places I've been, surely they're worth as many verses as Giles Sans Pitie!"
"He only gave one verse to the Angel," Dante shot back. "And Peacemaker MacDougal and Sebastian Cain got just three apiece. Are you sure you want all those verses?"
Virgil grimaced. "Well, I was sure until about twenty seconds ago. Now I have to think about it."
"While you're thinking, suppose you tell me why we're going to the Tusculum system?"
"You said you wanted to meet Tyrannosaur Bailey."
"What makes you think he'll be on Tusculum II?"
Virgil smiled. "He owns it."
"He owns the whole world?"
"Well, there's not that much to own—a couple of Tradertowns and a landing field."
"How did he get to own a world?" asked Dante. "Did he win it in a card game?"
"Nothing so romantic," replied Virgil. "He killed the man who owned it before him."
"I take it the laws of inheritance don't work quite the same out here as in the Democracy."
"Well, yes and no."
"What does that mean?"
"It means they might very well work the same, but no one felt compelled to argue the point with Tyrannosaur."
"No one hired any mercenaries?" asked Dante. "I mean, hell, with a whole planet at stake . . ."
"Tyrannosaur Bailey eats mercenaries for breakfast," answered Virgil.
"Has he got a price on his head?"
"A big one," said Virgil. He smiled. "He eats bounty hunters for lunch."
"How did you get to know him?"
"I met him at a gaming table out on the Rim, years ago. One of the players accused him of cheating, and he killed him. Literally ripped his head off his body."
"Was he cheating?"
"Absolutely."
"But you didn't complain?"
"I don't have that kind of death wish," said Virgil.
"So you just kept playing?"
"For another hour or so," replied Virgil. "I won forty thousand New Stalin ruples. He asked me if I was cheating, and I said of course I was, that after playing a couple of hands I just naturally assumed everyone at the table was supposed to cheat. Well, he could have killed me for that, but instead he laughed so hard I thought he'd bring down the ceiling, and we've been friends ever since."
"How many men has he killed?"
"You'll have to ask him. First, I don't know, and second, even if I did know it's been better than a year since I've seen him, and he's probably added to his total since then."
"If he's such a fearsome killer, why does anyone else live on Tusculum II?" asked Dante.
Virgil stared at him. "The Bard of the Inner Frontier doesn't ask stupid questions."
"Was it a stupid question?"
"Figure it out."
Dante considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. They're there for protection." He paused. "How does it work? They pay him a fee to live there, and he doesn't allow any bounty hunters to land?"
"Well, you got the first part right. They pay for the privilege of living on Tusculum. But Tyrannosaur will let anyone land. He owns a casino, and he doesn't much care whose money he takes. He just makes it clear that if you kill a resident, one of 'his children', as he calls them, you won't live to enjoy the reward."
Dante chuckled. "I take it Tusculum II is a pretty peaceful place."
"So far. But you never know what'll happen tomorrow."
"You made it sound like no one could kill this Tyrannosaur."
"You're on the Inner Frontier now, where just about every man and woman carries a weapon and can be hazardous to your health."
"What are you getting at?"
"If they're alive and they're carrying weapons, what does it imply to you?"
"Stop with the guessing games," said Dante irritably. "What is it supposed to mean to me?"
"That every last one of them is undefeated in mortal combat," said Virgil. "They don't all have big reputations. In fact, mighty few have reputations to rival Tyrannosaur's. But there's fifty, maybe sixty million people out here, all of 'em undefeated. It seems unrealistic to assume a few dozen of them couldn't kill Tyrannosaur if push came to shove." He paused. "That's why you have to be a little cautious out here. You know the odds, but you never can tell which of those nondescript men has it within him to be the next Santiago."