Here is forty shillings in good silver,

the fortress on the east side of the squarethe wall stretched fifteen, perhaps twenty feet above their heads; the wickedly out- and down-curving spikes that topped the wall were all but lost in the darkness. "There she is, Dusty," Mallory murmured. "Nothing to it." "Nothin' to it!" Miller was horrified. I'veI've gotta get over that?" "You'd have a ruddy hard time going through it," Mallory answered briefly. He grinned, clapped Miller on the back and prodded the rucksack at his feet. "We chuck this rope up, the hook catches, you shin smartly up" "And bleed to death on those six strands of barbed wire," Miller interrupted. "Lould says they're the biggest barbs he's ever seen." "We'll use the tent for padding," Mallory said soothingly. "I have a very delicate skin, boss," Miller complained. "Nothin' short of a spring mattress" "Well, you've only an hour to find one," Mallory said indifferently. Louki had estimated that it would be at least an hour before the search party would clear the northern part of the town, give himself and Andrea a chance to begin a diversion. "Come on, let's cache this stuff and get out of here. We'll shove the rucksacks in this corner and cover 'em with earth. Take the rope out first, though; we'll have no time to start undoing packs when we get back here." Miller dropped to his knees, hands fumbling with straps, then exclaimed in sudden annoyance. "This can't be the pack," he muttered in disgust. Abruptly his voice changed. "Here, wait a minute, though." "What's up, Dusty?" Miller didn't answer immediately. For a few seconds his hands explored the contents of the pack, then he straightened. "The slow-burnin' fuse, boss." His voice was blurred with anger, with a vicious anger that astonished Mallory. "It's gone!" "What!" Mallory stooped, began to search through the pack. "It can't be, Dusty, it just can't! Dammit to hell, man, you packed the stuff yourself!" "Sure I did, boss," Miller grated. "And then some crawlin' bastard comes along behind my back and unpacks it again." "Impossible!" Mallory protested. "It's just downright impossible, Dusty. You closed that rucksackI saw you do it in the grove this morningand Louki has had it all the time since then. And I'd trust Louki with my life." "So would I, boss." digital video film camera lighting "Maybe we're both wrong," Mallory went on quietly. "Maybe you did miss it out. We're both helluva tired, Dusty." Miller looked at him queerly, said nothing for a moment, then began to swear again. "It's my own fault, boss, my own gawddamned fault." "What do you mean, your own fault? Heavens above man, I was there when . . ." Mallory broke off, rose quickly to his feet and stared through the darkness at the south side of the square. A single shot had rung out there, the whiplash crack of a carbine followed the thin, high whine of a ricochet, and then silence. Mallory stood quite still, hands clenched by his sides. Over ten minutes had passed since he and Miller had left Panayis to guide Andrea and Brown to the Castle Vygosthey should have been well away from the square by this time. And almost certainly Louki wouldn't be down there. Mallory's instructions to him had been explicitto hide the remainder of the T.N.T. blocks in the roof and then wait there to lead himself and Miller to the keep. But something could have gone wrong, something could always go wrong. Or a trap, maybe, a ruse. But what kind of trap? The sudden, off-beat stammering of a heavy machine-gun stilled his thoughts, and for a moment or two he was all eyes and straining ears. And then another, and lighter machine-gun cut in, just for a few seconds: as abruptly as they had started, both guns died away, together. Mallory waited no longer. "Get the stuff together again," he whispered urgently. "We're taking it with us. Something's gone wrong." Within thirty seconds they had ropes and explosives back in their knapsacks, had strapped them on their backs and were on their way. Bent almost double, careful to make no noise whatsoever, they ran across the roof-tops towards the old house where they had hidden earlier in the evening, where they were now to rendezvous with Louki. Still running, they were only feet away from the house when they saw his shadowy figure rise up, only it wasn't Louki, Mallory realised at once, it was far too tall for Louki, and without breaking step he catapulted the horizontal driving weight of his 180 pounds at the unknown figure in a homicidal tackle, his shoulder catching the man just below the breast-bone, emptying every last particle of air from the man's lungs with an explosive, agonised whoosh. A second later both of Miller's sinewy hands were clamped round the man's neck, slowly choking him to death. And he would

To-day will your hangman be?"

thin man, with a thin face and a thin nose with pinched nostrils. He had preternaturally long, thin fingers, too, but much was redeemed by the cheerful smile that broke across his narrow face, and his complete willingness to sort out the most difficult itinerary. He seemed to be on the most congenial terms with every transport or freight captain who had ever touched down at or veered close to the Shanganagh Moon base. Is it difficult to get to the Optherian System, Bajorn? Long old journey right now out of season for the cruise ships on that route. Summer Festival wont be for another six months galactic. So, traveling now, youd have to make four exchanges Rappahoe, Kunjab, Melorica, and Bernards World all on freighters before getting passage on a proper liner. Youre sure up to date. Bajorn grinned, his thin lips almost touching his droopy ears. Should be. Youre the fifth inquiry Ive had about that system. Whats up? Didnt know the Optherians went in for the sort of kicks singers like. Whore the other four? Well, theres no regulation against telling. Bajorn paused discreetly, and as theyve all asked, no reason why you shouldnt be told. You, and he ticked names off on his fingers, Borella Seal, Concera, Gobbain Tekla, and Rimbol. Indeed. Thank you, Bajorn, thats real considerate of you. Thats what Rimbol said, too. Bajorns face sagged mournfully. I do try to satisfy the Guilds travel requirements, but it is so depressing when my efforts are criticized or belittled. I cant help it if singers lose their memories and every shred of common courtesy. Ill program eternal courtesy to you on my personal tape, Bajorn. Id appreciate it. Only do it now, would you, Killashandra, before you forget? Promising faithfully, Killashandra rang off. Lanzecki had said there was a list. Were there only five names! Borella Seal and Concera she knew and she wouldnt have minded doing them out of the assignment; Gobbain Tekla was a total stranger. Rimbol had been cutting successfully, and in the darker shades just as Lanzecki had predicted. Why would he want such an assignment? So, four people had been interested enough to check Travel. Were there more? She asked for a list of unassigned singers in residence and it was depressingly long. After some names, including her own, the capital major characteristics of digital cameras I for Inactive flashed. Perhaps unwisely, she deleted those and still had thirty-seven possible rivals. She twirled idly about in the gimbaled chair, wondering exactly what criterion was vital for the Optherian assignment. Lanzecki hadnt mentioned such minor details in the little he had disclosed. From what she had already learned of the planet and the mechanics of installation, any competent singer could do the job. So what would weigh the balance in favor of one singer? Killashandra reexamined the list of her known rivals: Borella and Concera had both been cutting a long time. Gobbain Tekla, when she found his position on the Main Roster, was a relative newcomer; Rimbol, like Killashandra, was a rank tyro. When she inquired, she discovered that each of the others had been a redundant or a failed musician. Perhaps that was the necessary requirement. It certainly made sense for the installer to have an instrumental background. She rephrased her question to apply to all thirty-seven available singers. Nineteen fit that category. Lanzecki appeared reluctant to offer her the assignment but she oughtnt to fault him. She was acutely aware of past concessions from her Guildmaster. She had no right to expect an interrupted flow of benefits simply because he chose to share his bed with her. Nor, she decided, would she jeopardize their relationship by referring to the assignment again. Lanzecki might well be doing her a favor by not recommending her. She must keep that aspect of the situation firmly in mind. She might not be thrilled to vacation on the four systems to which her available credit would take her, but that was another string in her deplorable luck. She would get a rest from crystal and that was the essential requirement. Her reawakened appetite reminded her that it had been some hours since breakfast. During lunch, shed decide where to take herself. When, refreshed and revitalized, she returned to her labors for the Heptite Guild, shed find a fresh vein of black crystal and then shed get to the planet Maxim. Before she could plan her vacation in any detail, Antona rang her from the Infirmary. Have you eaten, Killa? Is that an invitation or a professional query? Because I just finished a very hearty lunch. Antona sighed. I should have liked your company for lunch. Theres not much doing right now down here. Fortunately. If its just the company