“I always like to talk to people,” he observed, “when they’re worryin” about what I’m likely to do to them, instead of what maybe they can do to me.”

Figures appeared on the ground-level. They’d come out of a sally-port to one side. They were even extravagantly cordial when Hoddan’s grandfather admitted that it might be convenient to talk over his business inside the castle, where there would be an easy chair to sit in.

Presently they sat beside the fireplace in the great hall. Don Loris, jittering, shivered next to Hoddan’s grandfather. The Lady Fani appeared, icy cold and defiant. She walked with frigid dignity to a place beside her father. Hoddan’s grandfather regarded her with a wicked, estimating gaze.

“Not bad!” he said brightly. “Not bad at all!” Then he turned to Hoddan. “Those retainers coming?”

“On the way,” said Hoddan. He was not happy. The Lady Fani had passed her eyes over him exactly as if he did not exist.

There was a murmuring noise. A dozen spearmen came marching into the great hall. They carried loot. It dripped on the floor and they blandly ignored such things as stray golden coins rolling off away from them. Stay-at-home inhabitants of the castle gazed at them in joyous wonderment.

Nedda came with them. The Lady Fani made a very slight, almost imperceptible movement. Hoddan said desperately:

“Fani, I know you hate me, though I can’t guess why. But here’s a thing that had to be taken care of! We made a raid on Walden — that’s where the loot came from — and my men kidnapped this girl. Her name is Nedda. Nedda’s in an awful fix, Fani! She’s alone and friendless, and somebody just has to take care of her! Her father’ll come for her eventually, no doubt, but somebody’s got to take care of her in the meantime, I can’t do it.” Hoddan felt hysterical at the bare idea. “I can’t!”

The Lady Fani looked at Nedda. And Nedda wore the brave look of a girl so determinedly sweet that nobody could possibly bear it.

“I’m very sorry,” said Nedda bravely, “that I’ve been the cause of poor Bron’s turning pirate and getting into such dreadful trouble. I cry over it every night before I go to sleep. He treated me as if I were his sister, and the other men were so gentle and respectful that I — I think it will break my heart when they are punished. When I think of’ them being formally and coldly executed…”

“On Darth,” said the Lady Fani practically, “we’re not very formal about such things. Just cutting somebody’s throat is usually enough — but he treated you like a sister, did he? Thai?”

Thai swallowed. He’d been beaming a moment before, with his arms full of silver plate, jewelry, laces, and other bits of booty from the town of Ensfield. But now he said desperately:

“Yes, Lady Fani. But not the way I’ve treated my sister. My sisters, Lady Fani, bit me when they were little, slapped me when they were bigger, and scorned me when I grew up. I’m fond of “em! But if one of my sisters’d ever lectured me because I wasn’t refined, and shook a finger at me her cause I wasn’t gentlemanly — Lady Fani, I’d’ve strangled her!”

There was a certain gleam in the Lady Fani’s eye as she said warmly to Hoddan:

“Of course III take care of the poor thing! I’ll let her sleep with my maids and I’m sure one of them can spare clothes for her to wear, and I’ll take care of her until a spaceliner comes along and she can be shipped back to her family. And you can come to see her whenever you please, to make sure she’s all right!”

Hoddan’s eyes tended to grow wild. His grandfather cleared his throat loudly. Hoddan said doggedly:

“You, Fani, asked each of my men if they’d fight for you. They said yes. You sent them to cut my throat. They didn’t. But they’re not disgraced! I want that clear! They’re good men! They’re not disgraced for failing to assassinate me!”

“Of course they aren’t,” conceded the Lady Fani sweetly. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”

Hoddan wiped his forehead. Don Loris opened his mouth fretfully. Hoddan’s grandfather forestalled him.

“You’ve heard about that big pirate fleet that’s been floating around these parts? Eh? It’s my grandson’s. I run a squadron of it for him. Wonderful boy, my grandson! Bloodthirsty crews on those ships, but they love that boy!”

“Very—” Don Loris caught his breath, “very interesting.”

“He likes your men,” confided Hoddan’s grandfather. “Used them twice. Says they make nice, well-behaved pirates. He’s going to give them stun-pistols and cannon like the one that smashed your gate. Only men on Darth with guns like that! Seize the spaceport and put in power broadcast, and make sure nobody else gets stun-weapons. Run the country. Your men’ll love it. Love that boy, tool Follow him anywhere. Loot.”

Don Loris quivered. It was horribly plausible. He’d had the scheme of the only stun-weapon-armed force on Darth, himself. He knew his men tended to revere Hoddan because of the plunder. Don Loris was in a very, very uncomfortable situation. Bored men from the bartered spacecraft stood about his great hall. They were unimpressed. He knew that they, at least, were casually sure that they could bring his castle down about his ears in minutes if they chose.

“But… if my men…” Don Loris quavered, “what about me?”

“Minor problem,” said Hoddan’s grandfather blandly. “The usual thing would be pfft! Cut your throat.” He rose. “Decide that later, no doubt. Yes, Bron?”

“I’ve brought back my men,” growled Hoddan, “and Nedda’s taken care of. We’re through here.”

He headed abruptly for the great hall’s farthest door. His grandfather followed him briskly, and the negligent, matter-of-fact, armed men who were mostly Hoddan’s first and second cousins came after him. Outside the castle, Hoddan said angrily:

“Why did you tell such a preposterous story, grandfather?”

“It’s not preposterous,” said his grandfather. “Sounds like fun, to me! You’re tired now, Bron. Lots of responsibilities and such. Take a rest. You and your cousin Oliver get together and fix those new gadgets on my ship. I’ll take the other boys for a run over to this spaceport town. The boys need a run ashore, and there might be some loot. Your grandmother’s fond of homespun. I’ll try to pick some up for her.”

Hoddan shrugged. His grandfather was a law unto himself. Hoddan saw his cousins bringing horses from the castle stables, and a very casual group went riding away as if on a pleasurable excursion. As a matter of fact, it was. Thai guided them.

For the rest of that morning and part of the afternoon Hoddan and his cousin Oliver worked at the battered ship’s Lawlor drive. Hoddan was pleased with his cousin’s respect for his device. He unfeignedly admired the cannon his cousin had designed. Presently they reminisced about their childhood. It was pleasant to renew family ties like this.

The riders came back about sunset. There were extra horses, with loads. There were cheerful shoutings. His grandfather came into Hoddan’s ship.

“Brought back some company,” he said. “Spaceliner landed while we were there. Friend of yours on it. Congenial fellow, Bron. Thinks well of you, too!”

A large figure followed his grandfather in. A large figure with snow-white hair. The amiable and relaxed Interstellar Ambassador to Walden.

“Hard-gaited horses, Hoddan,” he said wryly. “I want a chair and a drink. I traveled a good many light-years to see you, and it wasn’t necessary after all. I’ve been talking to your grandfather.”

“Glad to see you, sir,” said Hoddan reservedly.

His cousin Oliver brought glasses, and the ambassador buried his nose in his and said in satisfaction:

“A-a-ah! That’s good! Capable man, your grandfather. I watched him loot that town. Beautiful professional job! He got some homespun sheets for your grandmother. But about you…”

Hoddan sat down. His grandfather puffed and was silent. His cousins effaced themselves. The ambassador waved a hand.