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"Impossible! Who's going to pay for it?"
"Your boss," the Marine hissed, stepping into the blazing heat from the furnace. The red light of the boiling steel turned his angular face into a painting of Satan gloating over a new-caught si
"These humans are insane!" the councilor complained hotly.
"All the more reason to support getting them on their way," Wes Til replied, rolling a bit of spring in his fingers.
"They threatened me-me! They said they'd melt me in my own steel! I want their heads!"
"Hmmm?" Til looked up from the spring. "Wouldn't have anything to do with cracked revolver frames, broken springs, and exploding barrels, would it?"
"Those aren't my fault," the other Mardukan sniffed. "Just because a few of my workers were cutting corners, probably to line their own pockets-"
"Oh be quiet!" Til snapped. "You signed contracts. From the point of view of the humans, you're responsible, and you know as well as I do that the courts would back them up if there was time for that. But there isn't time, and they don't really seem to be very interested in half-measures, now do they? So, under the circumstances, I suggest that you do exactly as they say, unless you want your heir to be the one who does it."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, it's more on the order of a statement. They seem to have the most remarkable intelligence system. For example, they've already tracked down the person who ordered the attack on Rus From. Or so I would guess. You notice that Ges Stin hasn't been gracing us with his presence lately?"
"Yes. You know something?"
"No. However, it's lately become common knowledge that it was Ges Stin who ordered the attack. It's even common knowledge who pla
"Ges Stin has many shipping interests. He could be in the southern states by now."
"Hmmm. Perhaps."
"What does Turl Kam think of this?"
"He thinks that he's down one competitor for the fisherman's guild vote," the merchant said with a grunt of laughter.
"I will not be intimidated," the other councilor declared defiantly.
"The sliming on your forehead gives you the lie. But you don't need to be," Til replied. "Just make sure your shops produce what they promised. Instead of weak crap." The spring he'd been flexing broke with a pop. "You really don't want a few thousand people with rifles in their true-hands ... discussing the problem with you. Do you?"