Mortal me, lad, have you never known the gnawing agony of starvation?”
John Star was unlocking the rusty door.
Here was one thing that he could do to repair the traitorous work of his kinsman—though the greater deed, the rescue of Aladoree and her mighty secret, was all but hopeless.
“Can you bring us some broth, lad?” whined the old Legionnaire.
“And a bottle of old wine from the cellar?
Something to revive us and give us strength for stronger victuals?”
“I’m going to turn you out,” said John Star, adding bitterly: “That much I can do, to make up for the fool I’ve been!”
“You must help us creep out, lad, and up to the blessed sun.
Don’t forget we’re mortal weak.
Ah, me, we’re starving, lad.
Not a bite to eat since the day you locked us up.
Not a morsel, lad, for all that mortal time. Though I cut off the uppers of my boots, and chewed them, for the bit of precious nourishment in the leather.” “Ate your boots? Why, it was just this morning that I brought you here!” “Don’t jest with poor old Giles Habibula, lad! Don’t be so heartless, when he’s had nothing but his blessed boots to eat, rotting in a dungeon for mortal weeks.
Ah, and wasting his precious skill trying to pick a lock that’s ruined with wicked rust!”
“Weeks?
It wasn’t ten hours ago!
And I let you eat all that breakfast in your room, just before—enough to provision a fleet!”
“Don’t torture me with your jokes, lad!
I’m starved to a blessed bag of bones!
For life’s sake, lad, help old Giles Habibula out into the sunshine, and find him a drop of wine, to warm his poor old blood again.”
The rusty bolt at last shot back, the door creaked open. Giles Habibula waddled out, Hal Samdu stalked behind him, and Jay Kalam walked deliberately.
“We are free?” asked the latter.
“Yes.
The least I can do.
I’ve been a total idiot!
I’ll never be able to undo the crime I helped Eric Ulnar carry out—though I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to!”
“What has happened?”
Taut anxiety edged Jay Kalam’s voice.
“Eric Ulnar was a traitor, as Aladoree thought.
After I had locked up you three, he had the way clear.
The ship—the one that landed last night—came from that planet of Barnard’s Star.
Monstrous crea-tures aboard, allies of Eric’s—it was one of them that murdered Captain Otan.
He’s promised them a ship-load of iron, to pay for their part.
Iron is precious to them.
The ship took Eric away, and Aladoree.
1 was—hit.
Can just now walk again.”
“It’s the Purples?”
“Yes.
As Aladoree thought.
The plot is to restore the Empire, with Eric on the throne.”
They entered the courtyard, bright with the afternoon sun.
Giles Habibula stood with his thick hands stretched out in front of him, staring in amazement.
He fingered his heavy-jowled face, slapping his bulging paunch.
“For life’s sake, lad!” he gasped.
“Tell me, was that no joke?
Is this the same mortal day?… All that suffering!… My blessed boots!”
“Forget your belly, Giles!” shouted Hal Samdu, the slow and homely giant; and he turned to John Star with helpless anger on his broad red face.
“That Eric Ulnar———” He was panting, incoherent in his rage.
“Aladoree—he has taken her, you say?”
“Yes.