She stared at him sullenly for a long moment, then walked to the air shaft. "I'm going down to the kitchen to see what kind of food they've got." She paused, then added reluctantly: "Do you want anything?"
"Yeah. Bring me back a beer if they have any."
She disappeared down the chute, and returned five minutes later with a pair of beers. She walked across the cluttered floor to hand one to Danny.
"Listen to this," he said excitedly:
"The Songbird stalks, the Singbird kills,
The Songbird works to pay his bills.
So, friend, beware the Songbird's glance:
If you're his prey, you'll have no chance."
Danny looked up, his face aglow with excitement. "You know what I think? I think he's writing about Sebastian Cain!"
"Never heard of him," said the bored Duchess.
"What kind of education have you had?" he said contemptuously.
"Math, science, computers, literature—the usual."
"Sadly lacking."
"Not everyone studies killers and cutthroats," she shot back.
"They should. They're much more interesting than vectors and angles."
"So who was the Songbird?"
"I told you: Sebastian Cain."
"That's what I meant: who was Sebastian Cain?"
"Another bounty hunter. And a revolutionary early in his life."
"Why is he the Songbird?" she asked. "And don't tell me something silly like he whistled whenever he killed a man."
"His full name was Sebastian Nightingale Cain. I think Orpheus took it from his middle name."
"And everyone knew him as the Songbird?"
Danny shook his head. "No, I don't know if anyone did." He paused and stared at the paper in his hand. "I could be wrong, but I'd bet the farm that the Songbird was Cain!"
"Why is that so important?"
"Cain was a major figure on the Frontier a century ago. There's nothing written about it here, but I've got a feeling he's the one who killed the Angel."
"You got all that from a few verses?" she asked skeptically.
"Like every kid, I grew up learning everything I could about the Inner Frontier. That's where the action was, where all the bigger-than-life heroes and villains lived and died. I'm just adding what I already knew to what I've read here." He paused. "Black Orpheus hid a lot of things inside those verses. It's like putting together a very complex jigsaw puzzle."
"Well, you play detective," said the Duchess, making no attempt to feign interest. "I'm going to find a bedroom."
"Fine, you do that," he said, never looking up from the manuscript.
When she woke up alone in the morning, she went up to the attic and found him still sitting there, pouring over the manuscript.
"I take it you haven't been to bed yet," she said.
He looked up, his face aglow with excitement. "Listen to this:
His name is Father William,
His aim is hard to ken:
His game is saving sinners;
His fame is killing men.
"Father William was a preacher. They say he tipped the scales at more than 400 pounds. According to legend, he was also a bounty hunter."
"It sounds like your friend Black Orpheus went to a bounty hunters' convention," she observed.
"That's all the law there was on the Inner Frontier," replied Danny. "All the law there is even today." He looked up from the papers. "I've been piecing things together all night, and you know what I think?"
"What?" she asked in bored tones.
"I think Father William actually worked for Santiago. In fact, I think he was a conduit for most of the money that Santiago stole."
"That doesn't make any sense," said the Duchess.
"Why not?"
"Santiago was the greatest outlaw in the galaxy, right? Why would he use this preacher as a conduit to move money he stole? Move it where? You don't steal money just to give it away again. You keep it, or else you spend it on yourself. So it makes no sense." She made no attempt to hide her annoyance.
"I've still got thousands of verses to read," said Danny, "but there's something very strange about this manuscript, and it has to do with Santiago. I'm not sure what, but I'll find out before I'm done."
"Well, at least you know now that Santiago existed."
"I always did."
"You took it on faith," she said.
"And now my faith has been rewarded."
"Good. Now let's pack up and get the hell off the planet and sell the damned thing."
"Too soon," said Danny. "We'll give Balsam and Gibbs another day to get tired of looking for us."
"Just one day, and then we go!"
"Probably."
"What's this 'probably' shit?" she demanded. "One day and we're out of here!"
"There's no rush," he replied. "The owners aren't coming home for two more weeks."
"I'm not staying here two weeks!"
"Just a day or two."
"One day. And even so, I don't like it."
"You're free to go any time you want," said Danny. "But the manuscript stays with me."
"Don't get so cocky," she warned him. "I might leave right now and turn you in for the reward."
Danny smiled. "You might, but you won't."
"Why not?"
"Because whatever the reward comes to, it's peanuts next to what I'll give you once we've sold the poem." His smile vanished. "Now leave me alone and let me get back to work."
He spent the day pouring over the manuscript. At sunset the Duchess insisted he come down to the kitchen for dinner. He ate quickly and unenthusiastically, then went back to the attic to continue reading.
She heard a loud thump! in the middle of the night and went upstairs to see what had happened. Danny had been sitting on the floor, reading, and finally fell asleep. He had fallen over on his side, and now lay, snoring gently, a page still clutched in his hand. She figured he was out for the next twelve to sixteen hours, but when she checked on him again in the morning he was up and reading.
"Danny!" she insisted. "Put it down for a few hours. You'll kill yourself!"
"I didn't know you cared."
"I don't want you dying before we sell the poem. I wouldn't begin to know how or where to do it."
"You sure know how to flatter a guy," he said.
"So are you going to get some sleep?" she said, ignoring his remark.
"Not right away," he said. "I'm getting close."
"Close to what? Finishing?"
"To understanding."
"What's to understand? They're all just four-line verses. There's nothing very difficult about them. In fact, I thought Black Orpheus would be a better poet. The things you've read to me sounded wimpy and literary and kind of lame."
"It's what he says, and what he doesn't say, not how he says it," replied Danny. "This thing is nothing short of the secret history of the Inner Frontier up to a century ago."