"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps--or these exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients." Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now." "But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not as thorough as yours, of course," he added. "Where is Jal Thurlo?" "Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our miserable desert fare!" Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent. Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old self--more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the expected price. "And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? _Vanadol_, the nectar of the Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion--that two such as you and I should find our way here!" Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips. When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself, but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been most gracious. And you--Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?" "Yes, Aarnto. You more than I." "Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the night which swallowed him up. Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the _S'Relah_ here, even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik." "You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were up to!" "They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied. Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it out of mind. "What do _you_ think they're up to, Thurlo?" The little Martian spoke slowly. "The _S'Relah_? They are apart from other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to strike at Dar Vaajo, and"--he hesitated--"what better way to do it than through his daughter?" * * * * *