"I don't know that the hicks, as you put it, could have been less effective in their own defense," Lucius said without heat. "Be that as it may, if you'll authorize me to act in the matter I'll carry it to Protector Giscard instead of to the Zenith council."

"Mr. Maxwell," Daniels said in puzzlement, "the grants by which we're being dispossessed were issued by the Protectors of Zenith. Some of them were issued by Giscard himself."

"Exactly what do you believe we have to lose, Elector Daniels?" Mark said. His tone was sharper than he'd intended, but at this stage in the proceedings he didn't much care.

Daniels stiffened. Lucius nodded to his son.

"Oh, all right," Daniels said. "What is your proposed fee, sir?"

Lucius smiled again. For some reason, the expression made Mark think of Yerby Bannock. "One Quelhagen franc," he said, "to bind the deal. Beyond that, reasonable expenses. The first of which…" He looked at Mark with a slight curling of his lip. "… will be to buy a set of proper clothes for my son, who will act as my aide when I approach the Protector. It'll be tomorrow before I can get a meeting anyway."

Everyone stared at Mark. He folded his hands over his belly to cover the slight tear in the coveralls there.

"We'll dress you as a gentleman of Quelhagen, boy, not as a painted whore from Zenith," Lucius said. "But you will be dressed appropriately."

16 Plotting with the Enemy

Pulsing light and a bugle call awakened Mark in the middle of the night. He shot bolt upright in a bed disguised as a tussock of grass,

It was pitch dark; the only sound was the vague traffic noise to which Mark had fallen asleep. Zeniths might have odd ideas of decoration, but the rooms here in the Safari House were at least soundproofed.

The eyes of the little lion statue on the nightstand strobed red and its belly trilled Charge! again. Mark grabbed the statue and wrenched its head off. That was the right move, because the lion turned out to be a telephone.

"Huh?" Mark said.

"Mark, is your father there?" asked Amy's voice.

"Huh," Mark repeated. He wasn't one of the people who were at their best when awakened from a sound sleep. "No, he's staying at the Quelhagen trade mission. He had a lot of things to do before tomorrow, he said."

He looked at the clock masquerading as a pair of assegais rotating across the face of an imitation-bullhide shield, It was three in the morning of a twenty-six-hour Zenith day. "Before today," Mark corrected himself.

"Well, you'll have to do," Amy said. "Will you come over to our rooms right away? We're on the corner, the Ishandlwana Suite."

Huh? thought Mark.

"Yerby went out with some of the plaintiffs," Amy continued. "He isn't back yet and I'm worried. We have to do something!"

"Ah," said Mark. "Ah. Sure, I'll be right over."

He put on his coveralls rather than his new suit. He had no idea what Amy thought was appropriate garb. On Quelhagen it was never appropriate for a gentleman to visit a lady's room alone.

Except under circumstances that clearly weren't what Amy had in mind.

At least Mark hoped that wasn't what Amy had in mind. He'd played second fiddle to his father in a lot of ways, but that would really hurt.

Amy snatched the door open at the first knock. "I don't know what to do," she said by way of greeting. "If we were on Kilbourn I'd go searching bars, but everything's so big here! I'm afraid they're going to do something terrible to him."

Mark didn't recall a time when he'd thought Yerby was in more danger than everybody else around him was. He said soothingly, "Well, the Zeniths won in court, so they shouldn't be too angry…"

He looked about him. The central room of the Ishandlwana Suite had furniture that looked as if it were made from rocks, rifles, and spears. Slit curtains covered the walls. When the fabric moved in the draft, Mark caught sight of fierce-eyed warriors painted behind the hangings. It was the sort of place that would have given him the creeps even if he'd had a good night's sleep.

"Can we go somewhere else?" he asked, meaning the hotel lobby. Amy wore Kilbourn-style street clothes. They'd stand out a little on Zenith because they were so staid, but Mark didn't suppose that mattered at three in the morning.

"Right, the kitchen," Amy said. "In case they come in while we're-"

Good as the hotel's soundproofing was, it wasn't up to Yerby Bannock singing " Fanny Bay " as the doors of the elevator down the hall opened. Other voices tried to hush him-loudly, because otherwise Yerby couldn't have heard them over his song.

Mark bolted for the kitchen between the suite's two bedrooms. He wasn't worried about whoever might be with Yerby, whether they were from Zenith or not. He was a lot worried about how the frontiersman would react if he found Mark alone with Amy at this hour in a hotel room. Even when they were sober, guys could get very upset about their sisters. There wasn't a high likelihood that Yerby was sober at the moment.

Amy had just closed the slatted door behind them when the hall door opened and Yerby called, "Welcome to my humble abode! Time for a drink, I'd say."

Mark squatted to peer between the slats. If he held his head at exactly the right angle, he could look out into the main room. Amy sat cross-legged beside him, doing the same thing at a lower level.

Yerby slid open the liquor cabinet against one sidewall. Six of the men-no women-Mark had seen in the plaintiffs' enclosure in court watched dubiously. The frontiersman lifted out a bottle in either hand.

"I don't think we need to drink more until we've got the terms worked out," said Heinrich Biber. He and Vice-Protector Finch now wore civilian clothes. Mark suspected, though he couldn't be sure, that the other Zeniths present were aides or servants rather than principals in the lawsuit.

Yerby snorted. "Don't worry about me being able to figure terms, laddie," he said. "But it's a fact that you haven't said what you want me to do. Not in so many words, anyhow."

Amy sucked in her breath with a sharp gasp. Mark didn't let himself move or make a sound. Surely Yerby isn't going to let the plaintiffs buy him off?

Yerby unstoppered a bottle with a flick of his horny thumb and drank. He waved the other bottle toward the Zeniths as an invitation. None of them took it.

"We're just trying to avoid trouble," Berkeley Finch said. His voice was melodious, but his arm's oratorical sweep accompanying the words was completely ridiculous in the present setting.

Yerby lowered the bottle. He belched. "Well, I guess you come to the wrong address, then," he said. "Stirring up trouble's about the most fun there is. Most fun I've found, anyhow."

"All right," Biber said. "You want plain words, I'll give you plain words. We know you've got influence with your neighbors on Greenwood. We'll pay you to use that influence to prevent them from acting violently against the agents we send to enforce our claim on the land."

"You'll be doing them a favor," Vice-Protector Finch interjected. This time he spread both arms wide. Here's a guy who's on stage every waking moment. "Obviously they can't withstand the enormous power of Zenith."

Yerby shrugged and drank again. A good half the quart bottle had gurgled down his throat in the minutes since Mark watched him enter the suite.

"We'll permit current settlers to reclaim their land under our grants," Biber said. "We'll offer them special rates. Say, only two-thirds of what we normally charge."

Yerby belched again. This time the lamps rattled. "Awright," he said. "I want five thousand Zenith dollars a month. A Greenwood month, that is."

"Are you-" Finch began in an angry voice. He shut up instantly when he saw Yerby's smile start to broaden.