"You're lying to your people," Stark said flatly. "You're making false promises, to lead them into war." Kynon was genuinely puzzled by Stark's anger. "But of course!" he said. "Is there anything new or strange in that?" Luhar spoke up, his voice acid with hate. "Watch out for him, Kynon. He'll sell you out, he'll cut your throat, if he thinks it best for the barbarians." Delgaun said, "Stark's reputation is known all over the system. There's no need to tell us that again." "No." Kynon shook his head, looking very candidly at Stark. "We sent for you, didn't we, knowing that? All right." He stepped back a little, so that the others were included in what he was going to say. "My people have a just cause for war. They go hungry and thirsty, while the City-States along the Dryland Border hog all the water sources and grow fat. Do you know what it means to watch your children die crying for water on a long march, to come at last to the oasis and find the well sanded in by a storm, and go on again, trying to save your people and your herd? Well, I do! I was born and bred in the Drylands, and many a time I've cursed the border states with a tongue like a dry stick. "Stark, you should know the workings of the barbarian mind as well as I do. The men of Kesh and Shun are traditional enemies. Raiding and thieving, open warfare over water and grass. I had to give them a rallying point--a faith strong enough to unite them. Resurrecting the Rama legend was the only hope I had. "And it has worked. The tribes are one people now. They can go on and take what belongs to them--the right to live. I'm not really so far out in my promises, at that. Now do you understand?" * * * * * Stark studied him, with his cold cat-eyes. "Where do the men of Valkis come in--the men of Jekkara and Barrakesh? Where do _we_ come in, the hired bravoes?" Kynon smiled. It was a perfectly sincere smile, and it had no humor in it, only a great pride and a cheerful cruelty. "We're going to build an empire," he said softly. "The City-States are disorganized, too starved or too fat to fight. And Earth is taking us over. Before long, Mars will be hardly more than another Luna. "We're going to fight that. Drylander and Low-Canaller together, we're going to build a power out of dust and blood--and there will be loot in plenty to go round." "That's where my men come in," said Delgaun, and laughed. "We Low-Canallers live by rapine."