"Sure, Owner Drgon. The port's easy. Some say it's kind of haunted too but that's just a gag; the Greymen hang out there." "We can take care of the Greymen," I said. "Get fifty of your best men together and line up some air-cars. I want the outfit ready to move out in half an hour." "What about this chiseler?" asked Torbu. "Seal him up until I get back. If I don't make it, I know he'll understand." CHAPTER XVII It was not quite dawn when my task force settled down on the smooth landing pad beside the lifeboat that had brought me to Vallon. It stood as I had left it seven earth-months before: the port open, the access ladder extended, the interior lights lit. There weren't any spooks aboard but they had kept visitors away as effectively as if there had been. Even the Greymen didn't mess with ghost-boats. Somebody had done a thorough job of indoctrination on Vallon. "You ain't gonna go inside that accursed vessel, are you, Owner Drgon?" asked Torbu, making his cabalistic sign in the air. "It's manned by gobblins--" "That's just propaganda. Where my cat can go, I can go. Look." Itzenca scampered up the ladder, and had disappeared inside the boat by the time I took the first rung. The guards gawked from below as I stepped into the softly lit lounge. The black-and-gold cylinder that was Foster's memory lay in the bag I had packed and left behind, months before; with it was the other, plain one: Ammaerln's memory. Somewhere in Okk-Hamiloth must be the machine that would give these meaning. Together Foster and I would find it. I found the .38 automatic lying where I had left it. I picked up the worn belt, strapped it around me. My Vallonian career to date suggested it would be a bright idea to bring it along. The Vallonians had never developed any personal armament to equal it. In a society of immortals knives were considered lethal enough for all ordinary purposes. "Come on, cat," I said. "There's nothing more here we need." Back on the ramp I beckoned my platoon leaders over. "I'm going to the Sapphire Palace," I said. "Anybody that doesn't want to go can check out now. Pass the word." Torbu stood silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. "I don't like it much, Owner," he said. "But I'll go. And so will the rest of 'em." "There'll be no backing out, once we shove off," I said. "And by the way--" I jacked a round into the chamber of the pistol, raised it, and fired the shot into the air. They all jumped. "If you ever hear that sound, come a-running." The men nodded, turned to their cars. I picked up the cat and piled into the lead vehicle next to Torbu. "It's a half-hour run," he said. "We might run into a little Greyman action on the way. We can handle 'em." We lifted, swung to the east, barrelled along at low altitude. "What do we do when we get there, boss?" said Torbu. "We play it by ear. Let's see how far we can get on pure gall before Ommodurad drops the hanky." * * * * *