The Star Kings
By Jack Vance
Book 1 in the "Demon Prince" Series


"What a paradox, what a fearful reproach, when the dis-
tinction of a few hundred miles-nay, as many feet or even
inches!-can transform heinous crime to simple unqualified
circumstance!"

.. . Hm. Balder Bashin, in the Ecclesiarchic Nuncia-
mento of Year 1000 at Foresse, on the planet Kroki-
nole.

"Law cannot reach where enforcement will not follow."
. . . Popular aphorism.

Excerpts from "Smade of Smade's Planet," feature ar-
ticle in Cosmopolis, October, 1923:

Q: Do you ever get lonesome, Mr. Smade?
A:  Not with three wives and eleven children.
Q: Whatever impelled you to settle here? A rather dis-
mal world, on the whole, isn't it?
A:  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder- I don't care to

run a vacation resort.

Q: What kind of people patronize the tavern?
A:  People who want quiet and a chance to rest. Oc-
casionally a traveler from inside the Pale or an ex-
plorer.

Q: I've heard that some of your clientele is pretty
rough. In fact-not to mince words-it's the gen-
eral belief that Smade's Tavern is frequented by

THE DEMON PRINCES

the most notorious pirates and freebooters of the
Beyond.

A:  I suppose they occasionally need rest too.

Q: Don't you have difficulty with these people? Main-
taining order, so to speak?

A: No. They know my rules. I say, "Gentlemen, please
desist. Your differences are your own; they are fu-
gitive. The harmonious atmosphere of the tavern is
mine and I intend it to be permanent."

Q: So then they desist?

A:  Usually.

Q: And if not?

A:  I pitch them into the sea.

Smade was a reticent man. His origins and early life were known
only to himself. In the year 1479 he acquired a cargo of fine timber,
which, for a whole set of obscure reasons, he took to a small stony
world in the middle Beyond. And there, with the help of ten in-
dentured artisans and as many slaves, he built Smade's Tavern.

The site was a long narrow shelf of heath between the Smade
Mountains and Sinade Ocean, precisely on the planet's equator. He
built to a plan as old as construction itself, using stone for the walls,
timber beams and plates of schist for the roof. Completed, the tav-
ern clung to the landscape, as integral as an outcrop of rock: a long
two-storied structure with a high gable, a double row of windows
in front and rear, chimneys at either end venting smoke from fires
of fossil moss. At the rear stood a group of cypress trees, their shape
and foliage completely appropriate to the landscape.

Smade introduced other new features into the ecology: in a
sheltered valley behind the tavern he planted fodder and garden
truck; in another he kept a small herd of cattle and a flock of poul-
try. All did moderately well, but showed no disposition to overrun
the planet.

Smade's dominion extended as far as he cared to claim-there
was no other habitation on the planet-but he chose to assert con-
trol only over an area of perhaps three acres, within the bounds of
a whitewashed stone fence. From occurrences beyond the fence
Smade held aloof, unless he had reason to consider his own interests
threatened-a contingency which had never arisen.

Smade's Planet was the single companion of Smade's Star, an

THE STAR KING

undistinguished white dwarf in a relatively empty region of space.
The native flora was sparse: lichen, moss, primitive vines and pal-
odendron, pelagic algae which tinctured the sea black. The fauna
was even simpler: white worms in the seabottom muck; a few ge-
latinous creatures which gathered and ingested the black algae in a
ludicrously inept fashion; an assortment of simple protozoa.
Smade's alterations of the planet's ecology could hardly, therefore,
be considered detrimental.

Smade himself was tall, broad, and stout, with bone-white skin
and jet-black hair. His antecedents, as has been mentioned, were
vague, and he never had been heard to reminisce; the tavern, how-
ever, was managed with the utmost decorum. The three wives lived
in harmony, the children were handsome and well-mannered,
Smade himself was unfailingly polite. His rates were high, but his
hospitality was generous, and he made no difficulties about collect-
ing his bill. A sign hung above the bar: "Eat and drink without
stint. He who can and does pay is a customer. He who cannot and
does not pay is a guest of the establishment."'

Smade's patrons were diverse: explorers, locators, Jarnell tech-
nicians, private agents in search of lost men or stolen treasure, more
rarely an IPCC representative-or "weasel," in the argot of the
Beyond. Others were folk more dire, and these were of as many
sorts as there were crimes to be named. Making a virtue of neces-
sity, Smade presented the same face to all.

To Smade's Tavern in the July of 1524 came Kirth Gersen,
representing himself as a locater. His boat was the standard model
leased by the estate houses within the Oikumene, a thirty-foot cyl-
inder equipped with no more than bare necessities: in the bow the
monitor-autopilot duplex, a star-finder, chronometer, macroscope,
and manual controls; midships the living quarters with air machine,
organic reconverter, information bank, and storage; aft the energy
block, the Jarnell intersplit, and further storage. The boat was as
scarred and dented as any; Gersen's personal disguise was no more
than well-worn clothes and natural taciturnity. Smade accepted him
on his own terms.

"Will you stay awhile, Mr. Gersen?"

"Two or three days, perhaps. I have things to think over."

Smade nodded in profound understanding. "We're slack just
now; just you and the Star King. You'll find all the quiet you need."

"I'll be pleased for that," said Gersen, which was quite true; his

THE DEMON PRINCES

Just-completed affairs had left him with a set of unresolved qualms.
He turned awav, then halted and looked back as Smade's words
penetrated his consciousness. "There's a Star King here, at the tav-

i="

"He has presented himself so."

"I've never seen a Star King. Not that I know of."

Smade nodded politely to indicate that the gossip had reached
to the allowable limits of particularity. He indicated the tavern
clock: "Our local time; better set your watch. Supper at seven
o'clock, just half an hour."

Gersen climbed stone stairs to his room, an austere cubicle con-
taining bed, chair and table. He looked through the window, along
the verge of heath between mountain and ocean. Two spacecraft
occupied the landing field: his own and another ship, larger and
heavier, evidently the property of the Star King.

Gersen washed in a hall bathroom, then returned to the down-
stairs hall, where he dined on the produce of Smade's own gardens
and herd. Two other guests made their appearance. The first was
the Star King, who strode to the far end of the room in a flutter
of rich garments: an individual with skin dyed jet black, eyes like
ebony cabochons as black as his skin. He was taller than average
height, and carried himself with consummate arrogance. Lusterless
as charcoal, the skin dve blurred the contrast of bis features, made
his face a protean mask. His garments were dramatically fanciful:

breeches of orange silk, a loose scarlet robe with white sash, a loose
striped gray and black coif which hung rakishly down the right side
of his head. Gersen inspected him with open curiosity. This was
the first Star King he had observed as such, though popular belief
had hundreds moving incognito through the worlds of man: cosmic
mysteries since the first human visit to Lambda Grus.

The second of the guests apparently had just arrived: a thin
middle-aged man of indefinite racial background. Gersen had seen
many like him, miscellaneous uncategorized vagabonds of the Be-
yond. He had short coarse white hair, a sallow undyed skin, an air
of diffident uncertainty. He ate without appetite, looking back and
forth between Gersen and the Star King in furtive speculation, but
it seemed as if presently his most searching glances were directed
toward Gersen. Gersen tried to avoid the increasingly insistent
gaze; the least of his desires was involvement in the affairs of a
stranger.

THE STAR KING

After dinner, as Gersen sat watching the play of lightning over
the ocean, the man sidled close, wincing and grimacing in sheer
nervousness. He spoke in a voice which he tried to keep even, but
which trembled nevertheless. "I assume that you are here from
Brinktown?"

From childhood Gersen had concealed his emotions behind a
careful, if somewhat saturnine, imperturbability; but the man's
question, jangling upon his own alarms and tensions, startled him.
He paused before replying, gave a mild assent. "As a matter of fact,
I am."

"I expected to see someone else. But no matter. I've decided
that I can't fulfill my obligation. Your Journey is pointless. That's
all." He stood back, teeth showing in a humorless grin-obviously
braced against an expected dire reaction.

Gersen smiled politely, shook his head- "You mistake me for
someone else."

The other peered down in disbelief. "But you are here from
Brinktown?"

"What of that?"

The man made a forlorn gesture. "No matter. I expected-but
no matter." After a moment he said, "I noticed your ship-model
9B. You're a locater, then."

"Correct."

The man refused to be discouraged by Gersen's terseness.
"You're on your way out? Or in?"

"Out." Then, deciding that it was as well to circumstantiace his
role, he added, "I can't say that I've had luck."

The other man's tension suddenly gave way. His shoulders
sagged. "I own to the same line of business. As to luck-" He
heaved a forlorn sigh, and Gersen smelled Smade's home-distilled
whiskey. "If it's bad, no doubt I have myself to blame."

Gersen's suspicion was not completely lulled. The man's voice
was well-modulated, his accent educated-in itself indicating noth-
ing. He might be precisely as he represented himself: a locater in
some sort of trouble at Brinktown. Or he might be otherwise: a
situation entailing a set of hair-raising corollaries, Gersen would
vastly have preferred the company of his own thoughts, but it was
an act of elementary precaution to look more deeply into the mat-
ter. He drew a deep sigh and, feeling faintly sorry for himself, made
a courteous, if wry, gesture.

THE DEMON PRINCES

"Do you care to join me?"

"Thank you." The man seated himself gratefully, and with a
new air of bravado seemed to dismiss all of his worries and appre-
hensions. "My name is Teehalt, Lugo Teehalt. Will you drink?"
Without waiting for assent he signaled one of Smade's young
daughters, a girl of nine or ten, wearing a modest white blouse and
long black skirt. "I'll use whiskey, lass, and serve this gentleman
whatever he decides for himself."

Teehalt appeared to derive strength either from the drink or
from the prospect of conversation. His voice became firmer, his
eyes clearer and brighter. "How long have you been out?"

"Four or five months," said Gersen, in his role oflocater. "I've
seen nothing but rock and mud and sulfar ... I don't know whether
it's worth the toil."

Teehalt smiled, nodded slowly. "But still-isn't there always
excitement? The star gleams and lights up its circlet of planets. And
you ask yourself, will it be now? And time after dme: the smoke
and ammonia, the weird crystals, the winds of monoxide, the rains
of acid. But you go on and on and on. Perhaps in the region ahead
the elements coalesce into nobler forms. Of course it's the same
slime and black trap and methane snow. And then suddenly: there
it is. Utter beauty. ..."

Gersen sipped his whiskey without comment. Teehalt appar-
ently was a gentleman, well-mannered and educated, sadly come
down in the world.

Teehalt continued, half talking to himself. "Where the luck lies,
that I don't know. I'm sure of nothing. Good luck looks to be bad
luck, disappointment seems happier than success. . .. But then, bad
luck I would never have recognized as good luck, and called it bad
luck still, and who can confuse disappointment with success? Not
I. So it's all one and life proceeds regardless."

Gersen began to relax. This sort of incoherence, at once en-
gaging and suggestive of a deeper wisdom, could not be imagined
among his enemies. Unless they hired a madman? Gersen made a
cautious contribution: "Uncertainty hurts more than ignorance."

Teehalt inspected him with respect, as if the statement had been
one of profound wisdom. "You can't believe that a man is the better
for ignorance?"

"Cases vary," said Gersen, in as easy and light a manner as was
natural to him. "It's clear that uncertainty breeds indecision, which

THE STAR KING                                      9

is a dead halt. An ignorant man can act. As for right or wrong-

each man to his own answer. There never has been a true consen-
_)

sus.

Teehalt smiled sadly. "You espouse a very popular doctrine,
ethical pragmatism, which always turns out to be the doctrine of
self-interest. Still, I understand you where you speak of uncertainty,
for I am an uncertain man." He shook his thin, sharp-featured head.
"I know I'm in a bad way, but why should I not? I've had a peculiar
experience." He finished the whiskey, leaned forward to gaze into
Gersen's face. "You are perhaps more sensitive than first impression
would suggest. Perhaps more agile. And possibly younger than you
seem."

"I was born in 1490."

Teehalt made a sign which could mean anything, searched Ger-
sen's face once more. "Can you understand me if I say that I have
known overmuch beauty?"

"I probably could understand," said Gersen, "if you made your-
self clear."

Teehalt blinked thoughtfully. "I will try." He considered. "As
I have admitted to you, I am a locater. It is a poor trade-with
apologies to you-for eventually it involves the degradation of
beauty. Sometimes only to a small extent, which is what a person
such as myself hopes for. Sometimes there is only small beauty to
corrupt, and sometimes the beauty is incorruptible." He made a
gesture of his hand toward the ocean. "The tavern harms nothing.
The tavern allows the beauty of this terrible little planet to reveal
itself." He leaned forward, licking his lips. "The name Malagate is
known to you? Attel Malagate?"

For a second time Gersen was startled; for a second time the
reaction failed to reach his face. After another slight pause, he asked
casually, "Malagate the Woe, so-called?"

"Yes. Malagate the Woe. You are acquainted with him?" And
Lugo Teehalt peered at Gersen through eyes which had suddenly
gone leaden, as if the mere act of naming the possibility had re-
newed his suspicion,

"Only by reputation," said Gersen, with a bleak twitch of a
smile.

Teehalt leaned forward with great earnestness. "Whatever you
may have heard, I assure you, it is flattery."

"But you don't know what I have heard."

10

THE DEMON PRINCES

"I doubt if you have heard the worst. But nevertheless, and the
astounding paradox. . . ." Teehalt closed his eyes. "I am locating for
Attel Malagate. He owns my ship. I have taken his money."

"It is a difficult position."

"When I found out-what could I do?" Teehalt threw up his
hands in an excited extravagant gesture, reflecting either emotional
turmoil or the effects ofSmade's whiskey. "I have asked myself this,
over and over. I did not make this choice. I had my ship and my
money, not from an estate house, but from an institution of dignity.
I did not think of myself as a common locater. I was Lugo Teehalt,
a man of parts, who had been appointed to the post of Chief Ex-
plorer for the institution, or some such folly-so I assured myself.
But they sent me out in a 9B boat, and I could no longer delude
myself. I was Lugo Teehalt, common locater."

"Where is your boat?" asked Gersen, idly curious. "There is
only my own and the Star King's out on the landing field."

Teehalt pursed his lips in another onset of wariness. "I have
good reason for caution." Teehalt glanced right and left. "Would
it surprise you to learn that I expect to meet-" he hesitated,
thought better of what he had planned to say, and sat silently a
moment, looking into his empty glass. Gersen signaled, and young
Araminta Smade brought whiskey on a white jade tray, upon which
she herself had painted a red and blue floral border.

"But this is inconsequential," said Teehalt suddenly. "I bore

you with my problems. . .."

"Not at all," said Gersen, quite truthfully. "The affairs of Attel

Malagate interest me."

"I can understand this," said Teehalt after another pause. "He
is a peculiar combination of qualities."

"From whom did you have your boat?" Gersen asked ingenu-
ously.

Teehalt shook his head. "I will not say. For all I know you may

be Malagate's man. I hope not, for your own sake."

"Why should I be Malagate's man?"

"Circumstances suggest as much. But circumstances only. And
in fact I know that you are not. He would not send someone here
whom I have not met."

"You have a rendezvous, then."

"One I don't care to keep. But-I don't know what else to do."

"Return to the Oikumene."

THE STAR KING

II

"What does Malagate care tor that? He comes and goes as he
pleases."

"Why should he concern himself with you? Locators are twenty
to the dozen."

"I am unique," said Teehalt. "I am a locater who has found a
prize too precious to sell."

Gersen was impressed in spite of himself.

"It is a world too beautiful for degradation," said Teehalt. "An
innocent world, full of light and air and color. To give this world
to Malagate, for his palaces and whirligigs and casinos-it would
be like giving a child to a squad of Sarcoy soldiers. Worse? Possibly
worse."

"And Malagate knows of this?"

"It is my unfortunate habit to drink rashly and talk wildly."

"As you do now," suggested Gersen.

Teehalt smiled his wincing morose smile. "You could tell Mal-
agate nothing he does not already know. The damage was done at
Brinktown."

"Tell me more of this world. Is it inhabited?"

Teehalt smiled again, but made no answer. Ciersen felt no re-
sentment. Teehalt, beckoning to Araminta Smade, ordered Fraze,
a heavy sour-sweet liquor reputed to include among its constituents
a subtle hallucinizer. Gersen signified that he would drink no more.

Night had long settled over the planet. Lightning crashed back
and forth; a sudden downpour began to drum on the roof.

Teehalt, lulled by the liquor, perhaps seeing visions among the
flames, said, "You could never find this world. I am resolved that
it shall not be violated."

"W^hat of your contract?"

Teehalt made a contemptuous motion. "I would honor it for
an ordinary world."

"The information is on the monitor filament," Gersen pointed
out. "The property of your sponsor."

Teehalt was silent so long that Gersen wondered if he were
awake. Finally Teehalt said, "I am afraid to die. Otherwise I would
drop myself and boat and monitor and all into a star."

Gersen had no comment to make.

"I do not know what to do." Teehalt's voice became soft, as
the drink soothed his brain, and showed him visions. "This is a
remarkable world. Beautiful, yes. I wonder if the beauty does not

12

THE DEMON PRINCES

conceal another quality which I can't fathom . . . just as a woman's
beauty camouflages her more abstract virtues. Or vices. ... In any
event the world is beautiful and serene beyond words. There are
mountains washed by rain. Over the valleys float clouds as soft and
bright as snow. The sky is a deep dark sapphire blue. The air is
sweet and cool-so fresh that it seems a lens. There are flowers,
though not very many. They grow in little clumps, so that to find
them is like coming on a treasure. But there are many trees, and
most magnificent are the great kings, with gray bark, which seem
to have lived forever.

"You asked if the world were inhabited. I am forced to answer
yes, though the creatures who live there are-strange. I call them
dryads. I saw only a few hundred, and they seem a race ages old.
As old as the trees, as old as the mountains." Teehalt shut his eyes.
"The day is twice the length of ours; the mornings are long and
bright, the noons are quiet, the afternoons are golden-like honey.
The dryads bathe in the river or stand in the dark forest. . . ." Tee-
halt's voice dwindled; he appeared to be half asleep.

Gersen prompted him. "Dryads?"

Teehalt stirred, raised in his chair. "It's as good a name as any.
They're at least half plant. I made no real examination; I dared not.
Why? I don't know. I was there-oh, I suppose two or three weeks.
This is what I saw.. . ."

Teehalt landed the battered old 9B on a meadow beside a river. He
waited while the analyzer made environmental tests, though a land-
scape so fair could not fail to be hospitable-or so thought Teehalt,
who was scholar, poet, wastrel in equal parts. He was not wrong:

the atmosphere proved salubrious; allergen-sensitive cultures tested
negative; microorganisms of air and soil quickly died upon contact
with the standard antibiotic with which Teehalt now dosed himself.
There seemed no reason why he should not immediately go forth
upon this world, and he did so.

On the turf in front of the ship Teehalt stood entranced. The
air was clear and clean and fresh, like the air of a spring dawn, and
utterly silent, as if just after a bird call.

Teehalt wandered up the valley. Stopping to admire a grove of
trees, he saw the dryads, who stood gathered in the shade. They
were bipeds, with a peculiarly human torso and head structure,
though it was clear that they resembled man in only the most su-

THE STAR KING 13

perfcial style. Their skin was silver, brown, green, in sheens and
splotches; the head showed no features other than purplish-green
bruises, which seemed to be eye spots. From the shoulders rose
members like arms, which branched into twigs and then leaves of
dark and pale green, burnished red, bronze-orange, golden ocher.
The dryads saw Teehalt and moved forward with almost human
interest, then paused about fifty feet distant, swaying on supple
limbs, the crests of colored leaves shimmering in the sunlight. They
examined Teehalt and he examined them, in a mutual absence of
fear, and Teehalt thought them the most entrancing creatures of
his experience.

He remembered the days which followed as idyllic, utterly calm.
There was a majesty, a clarity, a transcendental quality to the
planet, which affected him with an almost religious awe, and pres-
ently he came to understand that he must leave shortly or succumb
psychically, give himself completely to the world. The knowledge
afflicted him with an almost unbearable sadness, for he knew that
he would never return,

During this time he watched the dryads as they moved through
the valley, idly curious as to their nature and habits. Were they
intelligent? Teehalt never answered that question to his own sat-
isfaction. They were wise, certainly-he made this particular dis-
tinction. Their metabolism puzzled him, and also the nature of their
life cycle, though gradually he acquired at least a glimmer of en-
lightenment. He assumed, to begin with, that they derived a certain
degree of energy from some sort of photosynthetic process.

Then one morning, as Teehalt contemplated a group of dryads
standing immobile in the marshy meadow, a large winged hawklike
creature swooped down, buffeted one of the dryads to the side. As
it toppled Teehalt glimpsed two white shafts, or prongs, extending
from the supple gray legs into the ground. The shafts at once re-
tracted when the dryad fell. The hawk creature ignored the toppled
dryad, but scratched and tore at the marsh and unearthed an enor-
mous white grub. Teehalt watched with great interest. The dryad
apparently had located the grub in its subterranean burrow and had
pierced it with a sort of proboscis, presumably for the ingestion of
sustenance. Teehalt felt a small pang of shame and disillusionment.
The dryads were evidently not quite as innocent and ethereal as he
had thought them to be.

The hawk thing lumbered up from the pit, croaked, coughed,

14

THE DEMON PRINCES

flapped away. Teehalt went curiously forward, stared down at the
mangled worm. There was little to be seen but shreds of pallid flesh,
yellow ooze and a hard black ball, the size of Teehalt's two fists.
As he stared down, the dryads came slowly fonvard and Teehalt
withdrew. From a distance he watched as they clustered about the
torn worm, and it seemed to Teehalt that they mourned the man-
gled crearure. But presently, with their supple lower limbs, they
brought up the black pod and one of them carried it away high in
its branches. Teehalt followed at a distance, watched in fascinated
wonder as, close beside a grove of slender white-branched trees, the
dryads buried the black pod.

In retrospect he wondered why he had attempted no commu-
nication with the dryads. Once or twice during the time of his stay
he had toyed with the idea, then let the thought drift away-per-
haps because he felt himself an intruder, a creature gross and un-
pleasant. The dryads in their turn treated him with what might be
courteous disinterest.

Three days after the black pod had been buried Teehalt had
occasion to return to the grove, and to his astonishment saw a pallid
shoot rising from the ground above the pod. At the tip pale green
leaves already were unfolding into the sunlight. Teehalt stood back,
examined the grove with new interest: had each of these trees
grown from a pod originated in the body of a subterranean grub?
He examined the foliage, limbs, and bark and found nothing to
suggest such an origin.

He looked across the valley, to the great dark-leaved giants:

surely the two varieties were similar? The giants were majestic,
serene, with trunks rising two or three hundred feet to the first
branching. The trees grown from the black pods were frail; their
foliage was a more tender green, the limbs were more flexible, and
branched close to the ground-but the species were clearly related.
Leaf shape and structure were almost identical, as was the general
appearance of the bark: supple, yet rough-texture d, though the bark
of the giants was darker and coarser. Teehalt's head swarmed with
speculations.

Later the same day he climbed the mountain across the valley
and, crossing the ridge, came down upon a glen with precipitous
rocky walls. A stream rushed and splashed through mossy boulders
and low fernlikc plants, falling from pool to pool. Approaching the
brink, Teehalt found himself on a level with the foliage ot the giant

THE STAR KING

15

trees, which here grew close beside the cliff. He noted dull green
sacs, like fruit, growing among the leaves. Straining, risking a fall,
Teehalt was able to pluck one of these sacs. He carried it down the
mountainside and across the meadow^ toward the boat.

He passed a group of dryads who, fixing their purple-green eye
bruises on the sac, became rigid. Teehalt observed them with puz-
zlement. Now they approached, their gorgeous fans quivering and
shimmering in agitation. Teehalt felt embarrassed and guilty; evi-
dently by plucking the sac he had offended the dryads. Why or how
he could not fathom, but he hastily sought the concealment of his
ship, where he cut the sac. The husk was pithy and dry; down the
center ran a stalk from which depended white pea-sized seeds, of
great complexity. Teehalt inspected the seeds closely under a mag-
nifier. They bore a remarkable resemblance to small underdevel-
oped beetles, or wasps. With tweezers and knife he opened one out
on a sheet of paper, noting wings, thorax, mandibles: clearly an
insect.

For a long while he sat contemplating the -insects which grew
on a tree: a curious analogue, so Teehalt reflected, to the sapling
which sprouted from a pod taken from the body of a worm.

Sunset colored the sky; the distant parts of the valley grew in-
distinct. Dusk came and evening, with the stars blurring large as
lamps.

The long night passed. At dawn when Teehalt emerged from
his boat he knew that the time of his departure was close at hand-
How? Why? He had no answer. The compulsion nevertheless was
real; he must leave, and he knew he would never return. As he
considered the mother-of-pearl sky, the curve and swell of the hills,
the groves and forests, the gentle river, his eyes went damp. The
world was too beautiful to leave; far too beautiful to remain upon.
It worked on something deep inside him, aroused a queer tumult
which he could not understand. There was a constant force from
somewhere to run from the ship, to discard his clothes, his weapons,
to merge, to envelope and become enveloped, to immolate himself
in an ecstasy of identification with beauty and grandeur . . . Today
he must go. "If I'm here any longer," thought Teehalt. "I'll be
carrying leaves over my head with the dryads."

He wandered up the valley, turning to watch the sun swell into
the sky. He climbed to the ridge of the hill, looked east over a
succession of rolling crests and valleys, rising gradually to a single

16 HIE DEMON PRINCES

great mountain. To west and south he caught the glimmer of water;

to the north spread green parkland, with a crumble of gray boulders
like the ruins of an ancient city.

Returning into the valley, Teehalt passed below the giant trees.
Looking up, he noticed that all the pods had split, and now hung
limp and withered. Even as he watched he heard a drone of wings.
A hard heavy pellet struck his cheek, where it clung and bit.

In shock and pain Teehalt crushed the insect, or wasp. Looking
aloft he saw others-a multitude, darting and veering. Hastily he
returned to the ship and dressed in a coverall of tough film. His
face and head were protected by transparent mesh. He was unrea-
sonably angry. The wasp's attack had marred his last day in the
valley, and in fact had caused him the first pain of his stay. It was
too much to expect, he reflected bitterly, that paradise could exist
without the serpent. And he dropped a can of compressed insect
repellent into his pouch, though it might or might not be efficacious
against these half-vegetable insects.

Leaving the ship, he marched up the valley, with the insect's
bite paining him still. Approaching the forest he came upon a
strange scene: a group of dryads surrounded by a buzzing swarm
of wasps. Teehalt approached curiously. The dryads, he saw, were
under attack, but lacked any efficient means of defense. As the wasps
darted in to settle on the silver skin, the dryads flapped their
branches, rubbed against each other, scraped with their legs, dis-
lodging the insects as best they could.

Teehalt approached, filled with horrified anger. One of the dry-
ads near him seemed to weaken; several of the insects gnawed
through its skin, drawing gouts of ichor. The entire swarm suddenly
condensed upon the unfortunate dryad, which tottered and fell,
while the remaining dryads moved sedately away.

Teehalt, impelled to disgust and loathing, stepped forward,
turned the can of repellent upon the nearly solid mass of wasps. It
acted with dramatic effectiveness, the wasps turning white, with-
ering, dropping to the ground; in a single minute the entire swarm
was a scatter of small white husks. The dryad under attack also lay
dead, having been almost instantly stripped of its flesh. The dryads
who had escaped -were now returning, and, so Teehalt thought, in
a state of anguish and even fury. Their branches quivered and
flashed; they marched down upon him with every indication of an-
tagonism. Teehalt took to his heels and returned to his ship.

THE STAR KIXG

17

With binoculars he watched the dryads. They stood about their
dead comrade in a state of anxiety and irresolution. Apparently-
or at least it seemed so to Teehalt-their anguish was as much for
the withered insects as the dead dryad.

They clustered over the fallen body. Teehalt could not observe
exactly what they did, but presently they arose with a glossy black
ball. He watched them carry it across the valley toward the grove
of giant trees.

I have examined the native life forms of over two thousand
planets. I have noted many examples of convergent evolu-
tion, but many more of divergence.

. . . Life, Volume II, by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey.

It is first of all essential that we understand exactly what
we mean by the well-used term "convergent evolution."
Especially we must not confuse statistical probability with
some transcendental and utterly compelling force. Consider
the class of all possible objects, the number of which is
naturally very large: infinite, indeed, unless we impose an
upper and lower limit of mass and certain other physical
qualifications. Thus imposing and so qualifying, we find
that still only an infinitesimal fraction of this class of objects
can be considered life forms. . . . Before we have even
started the investigation we have exercised a very stringent
selection of objects which by their very definition will show
basic similarities.

To particularize: There are a limited number of meth-
ods of locomotion. If we find a quadruped on Planet A, and
a quadruped likewise on Planet B, does this imply conver-
gent evolution? No. It merely implies evolution, or perhaps
no more than the fact that a four-legged creature can ef-
fectively stand without toppling and walk without stum-
bling. In my opinion, therefore, the expression "convergent
evolution" is tautological.

. ..Ibid.

THE STAR KING

From: "The Wages of Sin," by Stridenko: article in Cos-
mopoUs, May, 1404:

Brinktown: what a city! Once the jumping-off place, the
last outpost, the portal into infinity-now just another set-
tlement of the North East Middle Beyond. But "just an-
other"? Is this a fair description? Decidedly not. Brinktown
must be seen to be believed, and even then the hard of
belief depart incredulous. The houses are set far apart along
shaded avenues; still they rise like watchtowers, thrusting
up into and through the palms, virebols, scalmettos, and it
is a mean house which does not soar above the treetops.
The ground level is no more than an entry, a raised pavilion
where the clothes must be changed, for local habit ordains
the use of paper house capes and paper slippers. Then
above: what an explosion of architectural conceits, what tur-
rets and spires, belfries and cupolas! What elaborate
magnificence, what inspired scrimshaw, what intricate, in-
ventive, farcical, wonderful applications and misapplications
of likely and unlikely materials! Where else can one find
balustrades of tortoiseshell studded with gold-plated fish
heads? Where else do ivory nymphs hang suspended by
their hair from the roof gutters, their faces expressing only
bland benediction? WTiere else can a man's success be
gauged by the sumptuousness of the tombstone he designs
for himself and erects in his front yard, complete with pan-
egyrical epitaph? And in fact where but in Brinktown is
success such an ambiguous recommendation? Few indeed
of the inhabitants dare show themselves within the Oiku-
mene. The magistrates are assassins; the civil guard arson-
ists, extortioners and rapists; the elders of the council,
bordello owners. But civic affairs proceed with a punctilio
and gravity worthy of the Grand Sessions at Borugstone, or
a coronation at the Tower of London. The Brinktown jail
is one of the most ingenious ever propounded by civic au-
thorities. It must be remembered that Brinktown occupies
the surface of a volcanic butte, overlooking a trackless jun-
gle of quagmire, thorn, eel-vine skiver tussock. A single
road leads from city down to jungle; the prisoner is merely
locked out of the city. Escape is at his option; he may flee

20 THE DEMON PRINCES

as far through the jungle as he sees fit: the entire continent
is at his disposal. But no prisoner ever ventures far from
the gate; and, when his presence is required, it is only nec-
essary to unlock the gate and call his name.

Teehalt sat looking into the fire. Gersen, vastly touched, won-
dered if he intended to say more.

At last Teehalt spoke. "So I left the planet. I could stay no
longer. To live there a person must either forget himself, give way
completely to the beauty, drown his identity in it-or else he must
master it, break it, reduce it to a background for his own construc-
tions. I could do neither, so I can never go back. . . . But the mem-
ory of the place haunts me."

"In spite of the wasps?"

Teehalt nodded somberly. "Yes indeed. I did wrong to inter-
fere. There is a rhythm to the planet, an equilibrium which I blun-
dered into and disturbed. I've speculated for days, but I still don't
understand the process completely. Wasps are born as fruit of the
tree; the worms yield the seed to one kind of tree-this much I
know. I suspect that the dryads produce the seed to the great giants.
The process of life becomes a great circle, or perhaps a series of
incarnations, with the great trees as the end result.

"The dryads seem to tap the worms for part of their sustenance,
the wasps devour the dryads. Where do the worms come from? Are
the wasps their first phase? Flying larva, so to speak? Do the worms
eventually metamorphose into dryads? I feel this must be the case-
though I don't know. If so, the cycle is beautiful, in a fashion I can't
find words to describe. Something ordained, stately, ancient-like
the tides, or the rotation of the galaxy. If the pattern were disturbed,
if one link were broken, the whole process would collapse. This
would be a great crime."

"So therefore you don't want to reveal the location of the world
to your sponsor whom you believe to be Malagate the Woe."

"I know to be Malagate," said Teehalt stiffly.

"How did you find out?"

Teehalt looked at him sidewise. "You are very interested in
Malagate."

Gersen, wondering if, after all, he were so transparent,
shrugged. "One hears many strange tales."

THE STAR KING 21

"True. But I do not care to document them. And do you know
why?"

"No."

"I have changed my thoughts about you. Now I suspect you of
weaselry."

"If I were a weasel," said Gersen, smiling, "I'd hardly admit it.
The IPCC has few friends Beyond."

"I am unconcerned," said Teehalt. "But I hope for better days
if-when-I return home. I do not care to incur Malagate's ani-
mosity by identifying him to a weasel."

"If I were a weasel," said Gersen, "you have already compro-
mised yourself. You know of truth drugs and hypnotic rays."

"Yes. I also know how to avoid them. But no matter; it's not
important. You asked how I learned that Malagate was my sponsor.
I have no objection to telling you this. It was through my own
drunken prolixity. I put into Brinktown. In Sin-San's Tavern I
spoke at length, much as I spoke to you tonight, to a dozen en-
thralled listeners. Yes, I held their attention." Teehalt laughed bit-
terly. "Presently I was called to the telephone. The man at the other
end said his name was Hildemar Dasce. Do you know him?"

"No."

"Odd," said Teehalt, "since you are so interested in Attel Mal-
agate. . . . But, in any event, Dasce spoke to me, told me to report
to Smade's. He said I'd meet Malagate here."

"What?" demanded Gersen, unable to control the sharpness of
his voice. "Here?"

"Here at Smade's. I asked, what's this to me? I had no dealings
with Malagate and wished none. He convinced me otherwise. So
I'm here. I am not a brave man." He made a small helpless gesture,
picked up his empty glass, looked into it. "I don't know what to
do. If I remain Beyond. . . ." Teehalt shrugged.

Gersen considered a moment. "Destroy the monitor filament."

Teehalt shook his head regretfully. "It's the surety I carry for
my life. Indeed, I'd rather-" he stopped short. "Did you hear
anything?"

Gersen jerked around in his chair. No use denying his ner-
vousness-at least, not to himself. "Rain. Thunder."

"I thought I heard tubes blowing." Teehalt rose to his feet,
peered from the window. "Someone is coming."

Gersen also went to the window. "I see nothing."

I HI DF\10\ PRI\CFS

"A ship dropped down into the field," said Teehalt He thought
for a moment " I here are, or w ere, only two ships there \ours and
the Star King's "

"Where is your ship^"

"T set down in a valley to the north I want no one meddling
with my monitor " He seemed to listen, then, looking into Gersen's
eyes, he said, ""You are not a locator "

"No "

Teehalt nodded "Locators are, by and large, a vile lot You are
not of the IPCC="

"Think of me as an explorer "

"Will you help me?"

The harsh precepts of Gersen's training contended with his
impulses He muttered ungraciously, "Within limits-ver\ narrow
limits "

Teehalt smiled thinly "What are these limits'""

"My own business is urgent I can't allow myself to be di-
verted "

Feehalt was neither disappointed nor resentful, he could expect
no more from a stranger "Odd," he said once more, "that you do
not know Hildemar Dascc-sometimes known as Beauty Dasce
But he will come in presently "liou ask, how do I know^ Bv the
logic of plain ordinary tear "

"You'll he sate so long as you stay inside the tavern," said Ger-
sen shortly "Smade has his rules "

Teehalt nodded, politely acknowledging the discomfiture he
had caused Gersen A minute passed The Star Kmg rose to his
feet, his pink and red garment glowing in the firelight He walked
slowly up the stairs, looking neither to right nor left

I eehalt followed him with his eves "Impressive creature    I
understand that only the handsome ones are allowed to leave their
planet "

"Sol have heard"

Teehatt sat looking into the tire Gersen started to speak, then
restrained himself He felt exasperation with Teehalt, tor a clear
and simple reason Teehalt had aroused his sympathy, 1 eehalt had
entered his mind, I eehalt had burdened him with new troubles
He also relt dissatisfaction with himself-tor reasons by no means
so simple, in fact for no rational reason whatever Beyond argu-
ment, his own affairs were oi paramount importance, he could not

THE SFAR K!\G 23

permit himself to be diverted If emotion and sentiment could sway
him so easily, where would such things stop?

The dissatisfaction, far from being appeased, grew more insis-
tent There was a connection, too tenuous to be defined, with the
world Teehalt had described, a sense of loss and longing, of some
indefinable inadequacy    Gersen made a sudden angry motion,
swept all the irritating doubts and questions from his mind. They
could only decrease his effectiveness

Five minutes passed Teehalt reached into his jacket, brought
forth an envelope "Here are photographs you might be pleased to
inspect at your leisure "

Gersen took them without comment

The door slid back Three dark shapes stood in the gap, looking
into the room Smade roared from behind the bar, "Come in or
stay out' Must I warm the whole cursed planet7"

Into the hall stepped the strangest human being of Gersen's
experience "And there," said Teehalt with a sick titter, "you see
Beauty Dasce."

Dasce was about six feet tall His torso was a tube, the same
gauge from knee to shoulder His arms were thin and long, ter-
minating in great bony wrists, enormous hands His head was also
tall and round, with a ruff of red hair, and a chin seeming almost
to rest on the clavicle Dasce had stained his neck and face bright
red, excepting only his cheeks, which were balls of bright chalk-
blue, like a pair of mildewed oranges At some stage of his career
his nose had been cleft into a pair of cartilaginous prongs, and his
eyelids had been cut away, to moisten his corneas he wore two
nozzles connected to a tank of fluid which every few seconds dis-
charged a film of mist into his eyes There was also a pair of shut-
ters, now raised, which could be lowered to cover his eyes from the
light, and which were painted to represent staring white and blue
eyes similar to Dasce's own

The two men at his back by contrast appeared ordinary run-
of-the-mill human beings both dark, hard, competent-seeming,
with quick clever eyes

Dasce made a brusque signal to Smade, who stood impassively
watching from behind the bar "Three rooms, if you please We
will eat presently "

"Very well"

"The name is Hildemar Dasce "

24

THE DKMON PRINCES

"Very well, Mr. Dasce."
Dasce now sauntered across the room to where Teehalt and

Gersen sat. His glance shifted from one to the other. "Since we are
fellow travelers, houseguests of Mr. Smade, let us introduce our-
selves," he said politely. "My name is Hildemar Dasce. May 1 in-
quire yours?"

"I am Kirth Gersen."

"I am Keelen Tannas."

Dasce's lips, pale purple-gray against the red of his skin, moved
in a smile. "To an amazing degree you resemble a certain Lugo

Teehalt whom I expected to find here."

"Think of me as you like," said Teehalt in a reedy voice. "I

have spoken my name."

"But what a pity; I have business to transact with Lugo Tee-
halt!"

"It is pointless, then, to approach me."

"As you wish. Though I suspect that the business with Lugo
Teehalt might interest Keelen Tannas. Will you step aside for a

moment's private conversation?"

"No. I am not interested. My friend knows my name; it is Kee-
len Tannas."

"Your 'friend'?" Dasce turned his attention to Gersen. "Do you

know this man well?"

"As well as I know anyone."

"And his name is Keelen Tannas?"

"If this is the name he offers you, I suggest that you accept it."

Without further remark Dasce turned away. He and his men

went to a table at the end of the hall, where they ate.

Teehalt spoke in a hollow voice. "He knows me well enough."
Gersen felt a new spasm of irritation. Why should Teehalt feel

impelled to embroil a stranger in his troubles, if his identity were

already known?

Teehalt explained his act in the next breath. "Since I fight the

hook, he thinks he has me trapped, and he amuses himself."

"What of Malagate? I thought you had come here to meet

him."

"Better that I return to Alphanor and confront him there. I will

return his money, but I will not lead him to the planet."

At the end of the hall Dasce and his two companions were

THE STAR KING 25

served with platters from Smade's kitchen. Gersen watched them
for a moment. "They seem unconcerned."

Teehalt sniffed. "They think that I will deal with Malagate, but
not with them. ... I will try to escape. Dasce does not know that I
landed over the hill. Perhaps he thinks that your ship is mine."

"Who are the other two men?"

"Assassins. They know me well enough, from the tavern at
Brinktown. Tristano is an Earthman. He kills by touches of his
hand. The other is a Sarkoy venefice. He can brew stuff to kill from
sand and water. All three are madmen-but Dasce is the worst. He
knows every horror there is to be known."

At this moment Dasce looked at his watch. Wiping his mouth
with the back of his hand, he rose, crossed the room, bent over
Teehalt. In a husky whisper he said, "Attel Malagate waits you
outside. He will see you now."

Teehalt stared at him with sagging jaw. Dasce swaggered back
to his table.

Teehalt rubbed his face with quivering fingers, turned to Ger-
sen. "I can still evade them if I can lose myself in the dark. When
I run out the door, will you detain these three?"

"How do you suggest 1 do this?" asked Gersen sardonically.

Teehalt was silent a moment. "I don't know."

"Nor do I, with the best will in the world."

Teehalt gave a sad nod. "Very well, then. I will fend for myself.
Good-bye, Mr. Gersen."

He rose to his feet, walked to the bar. Dasce slanted his eyes
at him, but otherwise seemed uninterested. Beside the bar, Teehalt
stood beyond the reach of his vision, whereupon he darted into the
kitchen, out of sight. Smade looked after him with wonder, then
returned to business.

Dasce and the two assassins stolidly continued their meal.

Gersen watched covertly. Why did they sit with such uncon-
cern? Teehalt's ruse had been pitifully obvious. Gersen's skin began
to prickle; he drummed his fingers on the table. In spite of his
resolve, he rose to his feet, went to the doorway. Pushing open the
timber panels, he stepped out on the veranda.

The night was dark, lit only by stars. The wind, for a wonder,
was still; but the sea, swirling and flowing, sent up a muffled sad
sound. ... A short sharp scream, a whimper, from behind the tav-
ern. Gersen abandoned his resolve and started forward. A grip like

26

I HE DEMON PRINCES

the pinch of steel seized his arm, tweaked nerves at the back of his
elbow; another hand clamped at his neck. Gersen let himself fall,
broke the grip. Suddenly all his doubts and exasperations were
gone; he was a whole man. He rolled over, bounced to his feet,
stood m a half crouch, shuffled slowly forward. Facing him with an
easy smile stood Tnstano the Earthman.

"Careful, friend," said Tnstano in the clipped flat Earth accent.
"Give me trouble and Smade pitches you into the sea "

Dasce came out the door, followed by the Sarcoy poisoner.
Tnstano |omed them and the three walked to the spaceport. Gersen
remained on the terrace, breathing heavily, crawling internally with
his frustrated need for action.

Ten minutes later two ships rose into the night. The first was
a squat armored vessel, with weapons fore and aft. The second was
a battered old locator's ship, Model 9B.

Gersen stared in wonder. The second ship was his own.

The ships disappeared, the sky once more was empty. Gersen
returned into the tavern and sat before the fire. Presently he
brought forth the envelope given him by Lugo Teehalt, opened it,
and extracted three photographs, which he examined for the better
part of an hour.

The fire burnt low, Smade took himself off to bed, leaving a
son dozing behind the bar. Outside, the night rams began to thrash
down, lightning crackled, the ocean groaned.

Gersen sat m deep thought. Presently from his pocket he
brought a sheet of paper, which listed five names:

Attel Malagate (the Woe)

Howard Alan Treesong

Viole Falushe

Kokor Hekkus (the Killing Machine)

Lens Larque

From his pocket he brought a pencil, but still he deliberated. If he
continually added names to his list he would never finish. Of course
there was no real need to write; there was no real need for a list.
Gersen knew the five names as well as he knew his own He com-
promised. To the right and below the last name of the original list
he appended a sixth: Hildemar Dasce. For a space he sat looking
at the names, with two sides to his mind- the one so alive and

THE STAR KING -*/'

passionate that the other, the cerebral detached observer, felt a trace
of amusement.

The flames settled low; chunks of fossilized moss glowed scar-
let; the sea sound was slower and lower m pitch. Gersen rose to his
feet, climbed the stone stairs to his room.

During his life Gersen had known little other than a succession
of strange beds; nevertheless sleep came slowly and he lay staring
into the dark. Visions passed before him, from as early as he could
remember. First there was a landscape which, as he recalled it, was
wonderfully pleasant and bright. There were tawnv mountains, a
village painted in faded pastel colors along the banks of a wide
tawny river.

But this picture, as always, was followed by another even more
vivid: the same landscape littered with hacked and bleeding bodies
Men and women and children shuffled into the holds of five long
ships under the weapons of two score men in strange grim cos-
tumes. With an old man who was his grandfather, Kirth Gersen
watched, horrified, from across the river, concealed from the slavers
by the bulk of an old barge. When the ships had lifted, they re-
turned across the river to the silence of death. Then his grandfather
told him, "Many fine things your father had planned for you. learn-
ing and useful work and a life of satisfaction and peace. Do you
recall this3"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"The learning you shall have. You will learn patience and re-
source, the ability of your hands and your mind. You will have
useful work: the destruction of evil men. WTiat work could be more
usefuP This is Beyond, you will find that your work is never done-
so therefore you may never know a life of peace. However, I guar-
antee you ample satisfaction, for I will teach you to crave the blood
of these men more than the flesh of woman."

The old man had been as good as his word. Eventually they
made their way to Earth, the ultimate repository of every sort of
knowledge.

Young Kirth learned many things, from a succession of strange
teachers which it would be tedious to detail. He killed his first man
at the age of fourteen, a footpad who had the ill-luck to accost them
in a back alley of Rotterdam. WTiile his grandfather stood by, in
the manner of an old fox teaching a cub to hunt, young Kirth,

28

THE. DEMON PRINCES

gasping and sobbing, broke first the ankle, then the neck of the
astonished assailant.

From Earth they moved to Alphanor, capitol planet of the Rigel
Concourse, and here Kirth Gersen gained more conventional
knowledge. When he was nineteen his grandfather died, bequeath-
ing him a comfortable sum of money and a letter which read:

My dear Kirth:

I have seldom told of my affection and high regard for
you; I take this occasion to do so. You have come to mean
more to me than ever did my own son. I will not say I am
sorry that I have set your feet in the path they now must
take, even though you will be denied many ordinary pleas-
ures and luxuries. Have I been presumptuous in so shaping
your life? I think not. For several years you have been self-
motivated, and have showed no inclination to point yourself
in any other direction. In any event, 1 can think of no more
useful service for a man to perform than that which I have
ordained for you. The Law of Man is bounded by the limits
of the Oikumene. Good and evil, however, are ideas which
encompass the universe; unluckily, beyond the Pale there
are few to ensure the triumph of good over evil.

Actually the triumph consists of two processes: first evil
must be extinguished, then good must be introduced to fill
the gap. It is impossible that a man should be equally effi-
cacious in both functions. Good and evil, in spite of a tra-
ditional fallacy, are not polarities, nor mirror images, nor is
one merely the absence of the other. In order to minimize
confusion, your work will be the destruction of evil men.

What is an evil man? The man is evil who coerces obe-
dience to his private ends, destroys beauty, produces pain,
extinguishes life. It must be remembered that killing evil
men is not equivalent to expunging evil, which is a rela-
tionship between a situation and an individual. A poisonous
spore will grow only in a nutrient soil. In this case the nu-
trient soil is Beyond, and since no human effort can alter
the Beyond (which must always exist), you must devote your
efforts to destroying the poisonous spores, which are evil
men. It is a task of which you will never see the end.

Our sharpest and first motivation in this matter, agreed,

THE STAR KING

is no more than a primitive ache for revenge. Five pirate
captains destroyed certain lives and enslaved others who
were precious to us. Revenge is not an ignoble motive,
when it works to a productive end. The names of these five
pirate captains I do not know. My best attempts have
brought me no information. One man, an underling, I rec-
ognized: his name is Parsifal Pankarow, and he is no less
baneful than the five captains, though his potentialities for
harm are less. You must seek him Beyond and learn from
him the names of the five.

Then you must kill the five, and it will do no harm if
they suffer pain in the process, for they have brought an
immeasurable amount of pain and grief to others.

There is still much for you to learn. I would advise you
to join the Institute, except I fear that the disciplines of this
body would not set well with you. Do as you think best. In
my youth I thought to become a catechumen, but Destiny
ruled otherwise. If I were friends with a Fellow I would
send you to him for counsel-but I have no such friend.
Perhaps you will be less constricted outside the Institute.
Stringent conditions are imposed upon the catechumen
through the first fourteen degrees.

In any event, I advise you to devote a time to the study
of Sarkoy poisons and hand techniques, preferably on Sar-
kovy itself. There is room for improvement in your marks-
manship and knifeplay, though you need fear few men at
hand fighting. Your intuitive judgments are exact, your self-
control, economy of action, and versatility are to be com-
mended. But you still have much to learn. For the next ten
years, study, train-and be cautious. There are many other
capable men; do not rashly waste yourself against any such
until you are more than ready. In short, do not make an
overvirtue of courage or heroism. A goodly amount of cau-
tion-call it fear or even cowardice-is a highly desirable
adjunct for a man such as yourself, whose one fault might
be said to be a mystical, almost superstitious, faith in the
success of your destiny. Do not be fooled: we are all mortal,
as I now attest.

So, my grandson, I am dead. I have trained you to know
good from evil. I feel only pride in my accomplishment,

HI DFMON PRINOS

and hope that you will remember me with affection and
respect

Your loving grandfather,
Rolf Marr Gersen

For eleven years Kirth Gersen obeyed the dictates of his grandfa-
ther, or exceeded them, meanwhile seeking both \uthm the Oiku-
mene and Beyond for Parsifal Pankarow, but fruitlessly

Few occupations offered more challenge, more hazard, more
chilling rebuffs to incompetence than weaselmg for the IPCC Ger-
sen undertook two assignments, on Pharode and Blue Planet Dur-
ing the term of this latter, he submitted a preemptive requisition
for information regarding Parsifal Pankarow, and felt himself well
rewarded to learn that Parsifal Pankarow currently resided at Brink-
town, where he was Ita Bugloss, operator of a prosperous import
business

Gersen found Ira Bugloss, or Pankarow, to be a burly, hearty
man, egg-bald, his skin dyed lemon-yellow, his mustachios wide,
black and luxuriant

Bnnktown occupied a plateau which stood like an island in a
black-and-orange )ungle Gersen scrutinized Pankarow's move-
ments for two weeks, and learned his routine, which was that of a
man without a care Then one evening he hired a cab, rendered the
operator unconscious, and waited outside the Jodisei Conversation
and Flower Arranging Club until Pankarow tired of sporting with
the inmates and emerged into the humid Bnnktown night Well
pleased with himself, humming a tune he had only )ust learned, he
staggered into the cab and was conveyed, not to his sumptuous
home, but to a remote clearing in the )ungle Here Gersen put
questions which Pankarow had no wish to answer

Pankarow made an effort to hold his tongue, to no avail Finally
five names were wrung from his memory "Now what will you do
with me7" croaked the erstwhile Ira Bugloss

"I will kill you," said Gersen, pale and quivering after exercise
he did not en)oy "I have made you my enemy, furthermore, you
deserve to die a hundred times over."

"At one time, ves," cried the sweating Pankarow "Now I lead
a blameless life, I m)ure no one'"

Gersen wondered it every such occasion would cause him such
nausea, misgivings and misery He responded in a voice held crisp

THE STAR KI\'G 31

and even by enormous effort "What you say perhaps is true, but
your wealth stinks of pain And certainly you will make a report to
the first agent of any of the five you meet "

"No. I swear not And my wealth-take it all."

"Where is your wealth7"

Pankarow tried to make conditions. "I will lead you to it "

Gersen shook his head sadly "Accept my excuses You are
about to die It comes to all men, you had best feel that you are
requiting the evil you have done-"

"Under my tombstone'" screamed Pankarow "Under the stone
tombstone before my house'"

Gersen touched a tube to Pankarow's neck, which spat a Sarkoy
poison into the skin "I will go to look," he said "You will sleep
until you see me again " Gersen spoke no more than the truth
Pankarow relaxed thankfully and was dead in seconds.

Gersen returned to Bnnktown, a deceptively placid settlement
of tall ornate three-, four-, and five-story houses embowered among
green, purple and black trees At twilight he sauntered along a quiet
back lane to Pankarow's house The stone tombstone stood plain
to see. a massive monument of marble spheres and cubes sur-
mounted by a sculptured image of Parsifal Pankarow in a noble
pose, head thrown back to the sky, arms outspread As Gersen stood
appraising it a boy thirteen or fourteen years old stepped down from
the porch and approached Gersen.

"Are you from my father3 Is he with the fat women?"

Gersen steeled his heart to the inevitable pangs, and put aside
all thought of confiscating Pankarow's wealth "I bring a message
from your father "

"Will you come m3" inquired the boy, tremulously anxious.
"I'll call my mother "

"No Please don't I have no time Listen carefully Your father
has been called away He is not sure when he can return Perhaps
never "

The boy listened round-eyed "Did he-run away3"

Gersen nodded "Yes Some old enemies found him, and he
does not dare show himself He said to tell you or your mother that
money is hidden under the tombstone."

The boy stared at Gersen "Who are you3"

"A messenger, no more Tell your mother exactly what I have
told you One more thing when you look beneath the tombstone,

32 I HF DF MON PRINCFS

be careful. There may he a trap to guard the money Do you un-
derstand what I'm saying^"

"Yes A booby trap "

"That's right Be careful Get the help of someone you can
trust "

Gersen departed Bnnktown He thought of Smade's Planet,
with its elemental quiet and isolation, precisely the antidote to his
fretful conscience Where, he asked himself, as the locater boat
skidded down a fracture in the continuum, did the balance lie3 He
had by no means reached the tipping point Parsifal Pankarow de-
served the callous execution he had received But what of wife and
son7 They must bear the pain, but why7 To protect the women
and children of more deserving men from worse   so Gersen re-
assured himself But the haunted dark look of the boy's eyes would
not leave his memory

Destiny led him The first at Smade's Tavern engaged him with
Malagate the Woe, the first name Parsifal Pankarow had blurted
forth In his bed Gersen heaved a deep sigh Pankarow was dead,
poor miserable Lugo Teehalt was probably dead All men must die,
let there be an end to brooding He grinned into the dark, thinking
of Malagate and Beauty Dasce examining the monitor of his ship
To begin with they would be unable to open the monitor with their
key-a formidable difficult}, even worse if they suspected thief-
proofing of explosive, poison gas or acid When after great travail
they eventually extracted the filament, it would show blank Ger-
sen's monitor was no more than window dressing, he had never
bothered to activate it

Malagate would look questiomngly at Beauty Dasce, who would
mutter some sort of objurgation Perhaps then they would think to
check the serial number of the ship, only to find that it was different
from that issued to Lugo Teehalt And then swiftly back to Smade's
Planet But Gersen would be gone

3

Question (put to Eale Maurmath, Chief Quaestor of
Tn-Planetary Police System, during a roundtable tele-
vision discussion broadcast from Conover, Cuthbert,
Vega. May 16, 993)

I know your problems are tremendous, Quaestor
Maurmath, in fact I don't really comprehend how you get
on top of them. For instance, how can you possibly locate
some one particular man, or trace his background, among
ninety-odd inhabited planets and billions of people, of all
varieties of political complexion, local habit, doctrines of
belief?

Answer;

Usually we can't.

Message of Lord Jaiko Jaikoska, Chairman of the Ex-
ecutive Board, to the Valhalla General Legislative As-
sembly, Valhalla, Tau Gemini, August 9, 1028

I urge you not to endorse this sinister measure.
Humanity many times has had sad experience ofsuperpow-
erful police forces .. As soon as (the police) slip out from
under the firm thumb of a suspicious local tribune, they
become arbitrary, merciless, a law unto themselves They
think no more of justice, but only of establishing themselves
as a privileged and envied elite. They mistake the attitude
of natural caution and uncertainty of the civilian population
as admiration and respect, and presently they start to swag-
ger back and forth, |inglmg their weapons in megalomaniac
euphoria. People thereupon become not masters, but ser-

TIIF. DKMON PRINCF.S

vants. Such a police force becomes merely an aggregate of
uniformed criminals, the more baneful in that their position
is unchallenged and sanctioned by law. The police mentality
cannot regard a human being in terms other than as an item
or object to be processed as expeditiously as possible. Public
convenience or dignity means nothing; police prerogatives
assume the status of divine law. Submissiveness is de-
manded. If a police officer kills a civilian, it is a regrettable
circumstance: the officer was possibly overzealous. If a ci-
vilian kills a police officer all hell breaks loose. The police
foam at the mouth. All other business comes to a standstill
until the perpetrator of this most dastardly act is found out.
Inevitably, when apprehended, he is beaten or otherwise
tortured for his intolerable presumption. The police com-
plain that they cannot function efficiently, that criminals
escape them. Better a hundred unchecked criminals than
the despotism of one unbridled police force. Again I warn
you, do not endorse this measure. If you do, I shall surely
veto it.

Excerpt from address of Richard Parnell, Commis-
sioner of Public Weal, Northern Territory, Xion, Rigel
Concourse, to the Association of Police Officers, Civil
Guards and Crime Detection Agencies, at Parilia, Pil-
gham, Rigel, December 1, 1075;

... It is not enough to say that our problems are
unique; they have become catastrophic. We are held
responsible for the efficient conduct of our jobs, but are
refused the necessary tools and powers to do man can mur-
der and rob anywhere within the Oikumene, jump into a
waiting spaceship and he light years away before his crime
is discovered. If he passes beyond the Pale, our jurisdiction
ends-at least officially, although all of us know of coura-
geous officers who have put justice ahead of expediency and
caution and have gone beyond the Pale to make their ar-
rests. This of course they have a right to do, since every
human law becomes invalid Bcvond, but the risk is their

own.

More often the criminal who goes Beyond escapes scot
free. When he chooses to return into the Oikumene he may

THE STAR KING

have changed his appearance, his LOSI coordinates, and his
fingerprints, and is safe unless he has the misfortune to be
arrested for a new^ infraction in the community where he
committed his original crime and was there genified.*

Essentially, in this day of the Jarnell Intersplit, any
criminal who takes a few elementary precautions can go
unpunished.

This association many times has sought to establish a
more satisfactory basis for crime detection and prevention.
Our main problem is the diversity of local police organi-
zations, with their totally disparate standards, goals, and
range of problems, and the consequent chaos of information
files and retrieval systems. An obvious solution exists, and
the association's standing recommendation is the formation
of a single official police system to maintain law and order
throughout the Oikumene,

The advantages of such a system are obvious: standard-
ization of procedure, use of new equipment and ideas, uni-
fied control, a central office for the filing, indexing, and
cross-indexing of information, and, perhaps of highest im-
portance, the creation and maintenance of an esprit, a pride
of profession, to attract and hold men and women of the
highest abilities.

As we all know, this centralized agency has been denied
us, no matter how urgently we plead its virtues. The osten-
sible motive behind this refusal is known to us all, and I
will not dignify it by mentioning it. I will say that police
morale is sinking to an ever lower level and soon may van-
ish-unless something is done.

Today I wish to put before the convention a proposal for
the "something.1' Our association is the private organization
of a group of private individuals. It has no official status or
connection with any governmental office whatever. In short,
we are free to do what we please, enter into any kind of busi-
ness we please, so long as we contravene no laws.

I propose that this association go into business, that we
found a private crime-detection agency. The new company
will be strictly a commercial proposition, financed by as-

*The noun is gene-classification, thence to adjective gene-classified, abbreviated to seinfied.

THE DF.MON PRINCES

sociation money and by private subscription. Headquarters
will be established at some central and convenient location,
but there will be branches on every planet. Our staff will
l)e recruited from among members of this association and
any other qualified persons. They will be well paid, from
fees and profits. Where will these fees and profits derive?
Primarily from local police organizations, who will use cer-
tain of the facilities of this new interplanetary agency, in-
stead of expending large sums to maintain redundant
facilities of the same sort. Since the proposed agency will
be a private business organization subject to all local and
interplanetary laws, the critics of our former schemes must
be silenced.

.. . Eventually the Intel-world Police Coordination
Company would automatically be called upon to handle all
problems of crime detection and prevention other than
those that are purely local, and even here the IPCC may
function usefully. In due course the IPCC will certainly
dwarf in scope all present and future official police groups.
We will have our own laboratories, research programs, ab-
solutely complete files, and an absolutely high-class staff-
recruited, as I say, from members of the association, and
others. Are there any questions?

Question from the floor: Is there any reason why police
officers of a municipality or a state should not simultane-
ously be members of the IPCC staff?

Ansu'er: This is a very important point. No, there is no
reason. I see no conflict between the two agencies, and
there is even' reason to hope that local police officials will
automatically wish to become affiliated with the IPCC.
This would be to the advantage of the IPCC, the local po-
lice group, and the individual himself. In other words, the
local police officer would have nothing to lose and every-
thing to gain by referring cases to the IPCC and author-
izing the subsequent fee if he himself were a staff member.

From Chapter III, The IPCC: Men and Methods, by
Raoul Past:

. . . Nominally an intra-Oikumene organ, the IPCC has
been forced by the dynamics of its basic rationale to operate

THE STAR KING

37

Beyond. Here, where the only laws are local ordinances and
taboos, the IPCC finds little cooperation: indeed, the very
opposite. The IPCC operative is known as a weasel; his life
is constantly balanced on a knife edge. The Central Agency
shrouds in secrecy the exact number of "weasels," and also
the percentage of casualties. The first figure is suspected to
be low, through difficulties of recruitment; the second high,
through both the exigencies of the work and the efforts of
that most fantastic of human constructions, the Deweasel-
mg Corps.

. .. The universe is infinite; worlds without end exist;

but certainly one must travel far to find a situation so par-
adoxical, whimsical, and grim as this: that the single disci-
plined organization of the Beyond exists only to extirpate
the nominal forces of law and order.

Gersen awoke in the strange bed, the sky through the small square
window only vaguely gray. He dressed and xlescended the stone
steps to the hall, where he found one of Smade's sons, a dour dark
lad of twelve, fanning the coals in the fireplace to life. He bade
Gersen a gruff "Good morning," but seemed indisposed for further
conversation. Gersen stepped outside to the terrace. Predawn mist
concealed the ocean, rolling in sheets and curls across the heath-a
dreary, monochromatic scene. The sense of isolation was suddenly
oppressive. Gersen returned inside, went to warm himself at the
new fire.

The boy was sweeping the hearth. "Killing last night," he told
Gersen in gloomy satisfaction. "Little thin man got it- Right behind
the moss shed."
''   "Is the body there?" Gersen asked.

"No. No body. They took it with them. Three bad ones, maybe
four. Father is black mad; they did their dirt inside the fence."

Gersen grunted, displeased with every aspect of the situation.
He asked for breakfast, which was presently forthcoming. As he ate,
the dwarf sun lifted above the mountains, a brittle white wafer
barely visible through the mist. An onshore wind came up, the mist
dissipated; and when Gersen once more went outside the sky was
clear, though fog wisps still blew in from the oily sea.

Gersen walked north along the shelf between ocean cliffs and

38

THE. DEMON PRINCES

mountains. Underfoot was a carpet of spongy gray moss, redolent
with a musty resinous odor. The sunlight streamed over his head,
out to sea, the black water giving back no glint or reflection. Pie
went to the edge of the cliff, looked down two hundred feet to the
rise and fall of the water. He tossed a stone, watched the splash,
the ripples quickly absorbed in the larger motion. What would it
be like, he wondered, to sail a boat on this ocean? Out across the
horizons, with the whole world to explore: barren coasts, bleak
headlands, tall stern islands, with no sight of human being or dwell-
ing until the return to Smade's Tavern. Gersen turned away from
the cliff, continued North. Fie passed the mouth of a valley fenced
in against Smade's cattle. Teehalt certainly had not left his boat
here. A quarter mile ahead a spur of the mountains humped down
almost to the sea. In the shadow of the ridge Gersen found Tee-
halt's boat.

He made a quick inspection. The vessel was indeed a Model

9B, identical to his own. The gear and machinery seemed in good
order. In a housing under the bow bulge hung the monitor which

had cost Teehalt his life.

Gersen returned to the tavern. His original plan, to spend sev-
eral days, must be altered; Malagate might discover his mistake and
return with Hildemar Dasce and the two assassins. They would
wish to take Teehalt's monitor, and this Gersen was resolved they
should not do, though he did not care to risk his life in the effort

to keep it.

Returning to the tavern, he noted that the landing field was
empty. The Star King had departed. This morning? Or during the
night? Gersen had no idea. He settled his score and, moved by some
obscure impulse, paid Lugo Teehalt's bill. Smade made no com-
ment. He was clearly consumed by cold fury. His eyes showed white
around the drab irises, his nostrils were distended, his chin jutted
forward. The rage was not on Lugo Teehalt's behalf, Gersen re-
alized; the murderer, whoever he might be-Dasce had mentioned
Attel Malagate-had flouted Smade's law; he had disturbed the se-
renity of Smade's Tavern; he had wronged Smade. Gersen felt a
twinge of sad amusement, which he took pains to conceal. Politely
he inquired, "When did the Star King leave?" Smade merely glared
silently back at him like an angry Black Angus bull.

Gersen gathered his small packet of belongings and departed
the tavern, declining the twelve-year-old boy's proffer of assistance.

THE STAR KING

39

Once more he walked north across the gray heath. Crossing the
ridge, he looked back toward the tavern. Staunch and secure it
stood, facing the black, wind-whipped sea-utterly alone. Gersen
shook his head dubiously and turned away. "Everyone is the same,"
he told himself. "Anxious to arrive and, when they leave, wondering
why they came."

A few minutes later he took Teehalt's boat aloft on its boosters,
then pointed it back toward the Oikumene and cut in the oversplit-
Smade's Planet dwindled astern and, with its white dwarf sun, pres-
ently became lost, a single spark among a million. Stars slid by like
fireflies blown on a dark wind, the light reaching Gersen by back-
splash or backcurl, wherein the Doppler effect played no role. Per-
spective was lost; the eye was fooled; stars moved astern, the near
slipping across the far. Within hand reach? A hundred yards dis-
tant? Ten miles? The eye had no tool by which to judge.

Gersen set the star finder to the index of Rigel, engaged the
autopilot, made himself as comfortable as the spartan facilities of
the Model 9B permitted.

The visit to Smade's Tavern had served him well, though the
occasion had been bought by Lugo Teehalt's death. Malagate
wanted Lugo Teehalt's monitor; this was the premise which con-
trolled the shape of the future. Malagate would be willing to enter
negotiations, and, with equal certainty, he would act through an
agent. Although, thought Gersen, he had seen fit to kill Lugo Tee-
halt at first hand.. . . There was something puzzling here. Why
need Lugo Teehalt die? Sheer malice on the part of Malagate? Not
impossible. But Malagate had killed and ravaged so extensively that
taking the life of one thin miserable man could provide him only
paltry gratification.

More likely the motive was habit, sheer offhanded casual habit,
To sever relations with a man who might be inconvenient, you
killed him. ... A third possibility: Had Teehalt penetrated the an-
onymity which Malagate, among all the Demon Princes, held of
supreme importance? Gersen reviewed his conversation with Tee-
halt. For all his ravaged and woebegone appearance, Teehalt had
used educated intonations. He had seen better days. Why had he
turned to the disreputable profession of locating? The question, of
course, had no real answer. Why did a man set himself in any
specific direction? Why and how did a man, presumably born of
ordinary parents, become Attel Malagate the Woe?

40

THE DEMON PRINCES

Teehalt had hinted or implied that Malagate was somehow in-
volved in the leasing of the locater ship. With this thought in mind,
Gersen made a careful inspection of the ship. He tound the tradi-
tional brass plate naming the place of manufacture; Liverstone on
Fiame, a planet of the Rigel Concourse. The monitor likewise car-
ried a bronze flake detailing its serial number and the manufacturer:

the Feritse Precision Instruments Company, at Sansontiana on
Olliphane, also of the Concourse. But there was no indication of
the owner, no evidence of registration.

It would be necessary, then, to trace ownership of the boat
indirectly. Gersen set himself to consider the problem. Estate
houses maintained two-thirds of all locater ships, their stock in
trade consisting of worlds with specific attributes: planets highly
mineralized, planets suitable for colonization by dissident groups,
planets pleasant enough to serve as a millionaire's reserve, planets
distinguished by a sufficiently interesting flora and fauna to attract
curio dealers or biologists; most rarely, planets supporting intelli-
gent or semi-intelligent life, of interest to sociologists, cultural tax-
onomists, linguists, and the like.

The estate houses were concentrated in the cosmopolitan cen-
ters of the Oikumene: three or four worlds of the Concourse, chief
among them Alphanor; Vega's Cuthbert, Boniface, Aloysius; Noval;

Pi Cassiopeta's Copus and Orpo; Quantique; old Earth. The Con-
course would be the logical starting place, if in fact Lugo Teehalt
worked for an estate house. But this was by no means certain; in
fact, as Gersen seemed to recall, Teehalt had implied otherwise. If
so, the investigation was narrowed considerably. Next to the estate
houses, universities and research institutes were the chief employers
of locaters. And Gersen had a new thought. If Teehalt had been
either a student or a faculty member at some specific lyceum, col-
lege or university, he would probably apply to this same institution
for employment.

Gersen corrected his thinking: the conjecture was not neces-
sarily probable. A proud man, with friends and associates who might
remember him, would use his old school in this fashion only as a
last resort. Was Lugo Teehalt proud? Not in this way, or so it
seemed to Gersen. Teehalt had seemed a man who might easily
turn to his old haven for security.

There was another obvious source of information: the Feritse
Precision Instrument Company at Sansontiana, where the monitor

THE STAR KING 41

would be registered in the name of its purchaser. And another rea-
son for visiting the Feritse Precision Instrument Company: Gersen
wanted to open the monitor and remove the filament. To this end
he needed a key. Monitors were often tamperproofed with explosive
capsules or corrosives; violent extraction of the filament seldom
yielded useful information.

The officials of the Feritse Company might or might not prove
accommodating, Sansontiana was a city of Braichis, one of Olli-
phane's nineteen independent nations, the Braichish were a head-
strong, involute, altogether peculiar people. Concourse law,
however, repudiated private claims beyond the Pale, and discour-
aged the use of explosive traps. Hence, in an ordinance detailing
the equipment required aboard spacecraft: "The manufacturers of
such devices (referring to monitors) are thereupon enjoined and
required to furnish keys, switching devices, code sticks, number se-
quences or any other tool, appliance or information necessary to
the safe opening of the instrument in question, without delay, com-
plaint, error, exorbitant charge, or any behavior or act calculated
to deter the petitioner from obtaining the key, coded device or
information demanded, if and when the petitioner is able to dem-
onstrate ownership of said instrument. Presentation of the serial
plate originally or thereafter affixed by the manufacturer to the
instrument shall be deemed sufficient and adequate evidence of
ownership."

All well and good. Gersen could secure the key, but the com-
pany need not furnish information as to previous registration of the
instrument. Especially if Artel Malagate should suspect that Gersen
might come to Sansontiana with such a purpose in mind, and take
steps to preclude the contingency.

The thought opened a set of new vistas. Gersen frowned. Had
his temperament been other than careful and orderly, these various
options and possibilities might not occur to him. He would be saved
a great deal of difficulty, but he probably would die sooner.. . . He
shook his head in resignation, reached for the star charts.

Not far off his line of fission was the star Cygnus T342, and
its planet Euville where an unpleasant and psychotic population
lived in five cities: Oni, Me, Che, Dun and Ve, each compulsively
built in pentagonal patterns, from a central five-sided citadel. The
spaceport, on a remote island, was opprobriously named "Orifice."
Everything Gersen needed could be found at the spaceport; he had

42

-I'lIE DEMON PRINCES

no desire to visit the cities, especially since each required, in lieu
of passport, the tattooing of a star on the forehead, a different color
for each citv. To visit all five cities the prospective tourist must
display rive stars; orange, black, mauve, yellow and green.

4

From New Discoveries in Space, by Ralph Quarry:

... Sir Julian Hove apparently derived his attitudes
from the late Renaissance explorers. Upon return to Earth,
members of his crews imposed upon themselves (or had
imposed) a strict rule of discretion and secrecy. Details nev-
ertheless leaked out. Sir Julian Hove was, to use the most
comprehensive term, a martinet. He was likewise a man
utterly without humor. His eye was bleak, he spoke without
moving his lips; his hair was combed day after day in pho-
tographically identical furrows. While he did not actually
require that the personnel wear dinner jackets to meals,
certain of his rules imposed an almost equivalent punctilio.
. .. The use of rirst names was eschewed; salutes were ex-
changed at the beginning and termination of each watch,
even though the personnel was by and large civilian. Tech-
nicians whose specialties were without scientific pertinence
were forbidden to set foot on the fascinating new worlds:

an order which came close to fomenting mutiny, until Sir
Julian's second in command, Howard Coke, prevailed upon
Sir Julian to ameliorate this regulation.

The Rigel Concourse is Sir Julian's most noteworthy
discovery: twenty-six magnificent planets, most of them not
only habitable but salubrious, though only two display even
quasi-intelligent autochthones. . . . Sir Julian, exercising his
prerogatives, named the planets for boyhood heroes: Lord
Kitchener, William Gladstone, Archbishop Rollo Gore, Edythe

THE DEMON PRINCES

MacDevott, Rudyard Kipling, Thomas Carlyle, William Kirk-
cudbright^ Samuel B. Gorsham, Sir Robert Peel, and the like.

But Sir Julian was to be deprived of his privilege. He
telegraphed ahead the news of his return to Maudley Space
Station, together with a description of the Concourse and
the names he had bestowed upon the members of this mag-
nificent group. The list passed through the hands of an
obscure young clerk, one Roger Pilgham, who rejected Sir
Julian's nominations in disgust. To each of the twenty-six
planets he assigned a letter of the alphabet and hurriedly
supplied new names: Alphanor, Barleycorn, Chrysanthe,
Diogenes, Elfland, Flame, Goshen, Hardacres, Image, Jez-
ebel, Krokinole, Lyonnesse, Madagascar, Nowhere, Olli-
phane, Pilgham, Quinine, Raratonga, Somewhere, Tan-
tamount, Unicorn, Valisande, Walpurgis, Xion, Ys and
Zacaranda-the names derived from legend, myth, ro-
mance, his own whimsey. One of the worlds was accom-
panied by a satellite, described in the dispatch as "an
eccentric, tumbling, odd-shaped fragment of chondritic
pumice," and this Roger Pilgham named "Sir Julian."

The press received and published the list and Rigel's
planets became so known, though Sir Julian's acquaintances
wondered about the sudden extravagance of his imagina-
tion. And who, or what, was "Pilgham"? Sir Julian presum-
ably would explain upon his arrival.

The clerk, Roger Pilgham, presently returns to the ob-
scurity from which he sprang, and there is no record of his
conduct or state of mind as Sir Julian's return became im-
minent. Did he feel apprehension? Uneasiness? Indiffer-
ence? Beyond all doubt he had become resigned to the
prospect of discharge from his position.

In due course Sir Julian made a triumphant return, and
in due course used the phrase, "most impressive perhaps
are the New Grampian Mountains on the North Continent
of Lord Bulwer-Lytton." A member of the audience po-
litely asked the whereabouts of Lord Bulwer-Lytton, and
the substitution was revealed.

Sir Julian's reaction to the deed was one of extraordi-
nary fury. The clerk prudently went into seclusion; SirJul-

THE STAR KING

ian was encouraged to reintroduce his own nominations,
but the damage had been done; Roger Pilgham's brash deed
caught the fancy of the public, and Sir Julian's Cfrmmology
gradually faded from memory.

From Popular Handbook of the Planets, 303rd Edition,
published 1292:

Alphanor, a planet considered the administrative node
and cultural center of the Rigel Concourse. It is eighth in
orbital order.

Planetary Constants:

Diameter        9300 miles
Mass            102

Mean Day       29 hours, 16 minutes, 29.4 seconds
etc.

General Remarks: Alphanor is a large bright sea world
with a generally bracing climate. Ocean occupies three-
quarters of the total surface, including the polar ice floes.
The land mass is divided into seven nearly contiguous con-
tinents: Phrygia, Umbria, Lusitania, Scythia, Etruria, Lydia
and Lycia, in a configuration suggesting seven petals of a
Bower. There are uncounted islands.

Autochthonous life is complex and vigorous. The flora
has in no way yielded to terrestrial imports, which must be
carefully tended and nurtured. The fauna is likewise com-
plex, and on occasion actively savage; to cite the clever hyr-
can major of upper Phrygia, and the invisible eel of the
Thaumaturge Ocean.

The political structure of Alphanor is a pyramidal de-
mocracy-simple in theory, intricate in practice. The con-
tinents are divided into provinces, thence prefectures,
districts and wards: these latter defined as population blocs
of five thousand persons. Each ward committee sends a rep-
resentative to the district council, which elects a delegate
to the prefectural diet, which sends a member to the pro-
vincial congress, which does likewise for the continental
parliament. Each parliament elects seven rectors to the

THE DEMON PRINCES

46

Grand Council at Avente, in the Sea Province of Umbria,
which thereupon chooses a chairman.

From Preface to Peoples of the Concourse, by Strick and
Chernitz:

The Concourse populations are far from homogeneous.
During the migrations from Earth racial groups tended to
follow their own, and in the new environments, under the
influence of interbreeding and new behavior patterns, such
groups specialized even further. . .. The folk of Alphanor
eneral are fair, brown-haired, of medium stature,

in

0 -

though an hour's walk along the Grand Esplanade at Avente
will show the observer every conceivable style of human

being.

The Alphanor psychology is more difficult to express.

Every inhabited world is different in this regard; and
though the differences are real and distinct enough, it is
hard to present them accurately without discursiveness-
especially since each planetwide generalization is com-
pounded, vitiated, or contradicted by regional differences.

Rigel, dead ahead, was a bright blue-white point from which every
other star seemed to flee. Gersen had little to do but contemplate
his destination, fight restlessness and tension, speculate regarding
Attel Malagate's probable intentions, and formulate his own set of
responses. The first problem; Where to land? One hundred and
eighty-three spaceports on twenty-two of the twenty-six worlds
were convenient to his lawful use, as well as unlimited desert and
wasteland, should he choose to risk arrest for violation of the quar-
antine laws.

How intensely did Malagate want Teehalt's monitor? Would
he arrange a watch at every spaceport? Theoretically, this could be
done, by the suborning of port officials. The cheapest and perhaps
most effective system would be to offer a resounding reward to the
man who reported Gersen's arrival. Gersen of course might choose
to set down at another star system. It would be difficult to mount
guard over every space port of the Oikumene.

But it was by no means Gersen's purpose to go into hiding. In
the next phase of proceedings he must necessarily expose himself.

THE STAR KING

47

This next phase was the identification of Malagate. Two methods
to this end suggested themselves: he could either trace the registry
of the monitor, or await the approach of some member of Mala-
gate's organization, and then try to trace the nerve of authority back
to its source.

Malagate would take for granted Gersen's intent to investigate
the monitor, and would presumably concentrate his vigilance at the
Kindune spaceport, which served Sansontiana.

Nevertheless, for a series of indefinite reasons-little more than
hunches-Gersen decided to land at the Grand Interplanetary
Spaceport at Avente.

He approached Alphanor, coasted down into landing orbit,
locked his autopilot into the official landing program, and once
more sat back. The boat settled, bumped in a roar of expiring jets
upon the scorched red earth. The jets died; there was silence. Au-
tomatically the pressure-equalizing valve began to hiss.

The port-officials approached in a slide car. Gersen answered
questions, submitted to a brief medical inspection, received an entry
permit. The officials departed; a mobile crane trundled up, lifted
the boat, carried it to a bay in the storage line at one side of the
field.

Gersen descended to the ground, feeling exposed and vulner-
able. He started to detach the monitor, keeping a careful lookout
in all directions.

Two men sauntered along the storage line, casually, or so it
seemed. Gersen recognized one of them instantly: the Sarcoy who
had followed Hildemar Dasce into Smade's Tavern.

As they approached, Gersen gave them no overt heed, but they
made no twitch or move that he did not observe. The Sarkoy wore
a modest suit of dark gray with epaulettes embroidered with opals;

his companion, a thin sandy-hatred man with dancing white-gray
eyes, wore a laborer's loose blue coverall.

The two stopped a few feet from Gersen, stood watching as if
in casual interest. Gersen, after a glance, ignored them, though his
skin crawled and his pulse pounded. The Sarkoy muttered some-
thing to his associate, came a little forward.

"I think we've met?" His voice was soft, sardonic.

"Your name evades me," said Gersen politely.

"I am Suthiro, Sivij Suthiro."

48

THK DEMON PRINCKS

Gersen examined him carefully, seeing a man of middle weight,
with the curious flat head of the Sarkoy Steppeman,* the face wider
than high. Suthiro's eyes were soft dead olive-drab, the nose snub
and dark of nostril, the mouth wide, thick-lipped-a face shaped
by more than a thousand years of specialization and inbreeding.
Gersen could not detect the "breath of death," an accomplishment
forced upon indentured assassins, which shortened their lives, gave
the skin a yellowish glaze, and caused the hair to stiffen. Suthiro's
skin was untoned pallid ivory, his hair was a glossy black pelt, and
he wore tattooed on his right cheek the small Maltese cross of the

Sarkoy hetman.

Gersen said, "My apologies, Scop Suthiro. I don't remember

the occasion you mention."

"Ah." Suthiro's eyes widened at Gersen's use of the honorific.
"You have visited Sarkovy. Dear green Sarkovy, its boundless

steppes, its merry festivals!"

"Merry, so long as the harikap last. Then what will you tor-
ture?"

Suthiro, of a race inured to insult, took no offense. "We always

have each other. ... I see you know my planet well."

"Fairly well. Perhaps you remember me from Sarkovy."
"No," said Suthiro wryly. "Elsewhere, and more recently."
Gersen shook his head. "Impossible. I have just come in from

Beyond."

"Exactly. We met Beyond. At Smade's Tavern."

"Indeed."

"Yes. With certain others I came to meet my friend Lugo Tee-
halt. In the confusion and excitement Lugo left Smade's Planet in
your spaceship. Surely you are aware of this?"

*The Sarkoy were held in low esteem by other peoples of the Oikumene, by virtue of
repugnant eating habits and gross and exhibitionistic sexual conduct. Also despised was
the popular Sarkov sport known as harbite, or the baiting of a harikap, a large bristle-
furred semi-intelligent biped of the north forests- The wretched creature, brought to a
state of tension by hunger, would be thrust into a circle of men armed with pitchforks
and torches, stimulated to wild activity by being set on fire, thrust deftly with pitchforks
back into the center of the circle as it sought to escape,

Sarkovy, the single planet of Phi Ophiuchi, was a dim world of steppes, swamps,
black forests, morasses. The Sarkoy lived in tall wooden houses behind timber palisades;

not even the largest of the towns was secure from the attack of bandits and nomads from
the wastelands. By practice and tradition the Sarkoy were accomplished poisoners- A Mas-
ter Venefice reportedly could kill a man merely by walking past him.

THE STAR KING

49

Gersen laughed. "IfTeehalt has either apologies or complaints,
I'm sure he will seek me out."

"Exactly," said Suthiro. "Lugo Teehalt sent me to make ad-
justment. He begs forgiveness for his mistake, and wishes only that
I recover his monitor."

Gersen shook his head. "You can't have it."

"No?" Suthiro moved closer. "Lugo offers a thousand SVU*
to indemnify you for his mistake."

"I accept with thanks. Give me the money."

"And the monitor?"

"I will return it when he comes for it."

The thin-faced man made an irritable clicking sound, but Su-
thiro grinned. "This is not exactly feasible. You will have the
money, but we will not have the monitor."

"There is no reason why you should have the monitor. Lugo
Teehalt is one principal in the matter; I will give him his monitor.
I am the other principal in the matter; it is perfectly legitimate for
you to give me the money. Unless, of course, you distrust my hon-
esty."

"By no means, since we do not intend to put it to the test. We
propose, in fact, to take the monitor at this moment."

"I think not," said Gersen. "I plan to take possession of the
filament."

"This is out of the question!" said Suthiro gently.

"Try to stop me." Gersen returned to work, disengaged the
seals from the monitor housing.

Suthiro watched placidly. He made a signal to the thin-faced
man, who backed away and kept lookout. "I could stop you so
suddenly you'd become a marble statue." He looked over his shoul-
der to the thin-faced man, who nodded. Suthiro exhibited a weapon
he carried in his hand. "I can provide you a heart spasm, a brain
hemorrhage, or a convulsion of the small intestine, whichever you
prefer."

Gersen paused in his work, drew a deep sigh. "Your arguments
are impressive. Pay me five thousand SVU."

"I need pay you nothing. But here is the thousand I men-
tioned." He tossed Gersen a packet of notes, then motioned to the
thin-faced man, who came forward, took Gersen's tools, and ex-

*SVU: Standard Value Unit of the Oikumene.

50

THE DEMON PRINCES

pertly detached the monitor. Gersen counted the money, moved to
the side. The two dropped the monitor into a bag and, without
another word, departed. Gersen laughed quietly. This was the mon-
itor he had bought and installed at Euville, at a cost of four hundred
SVU. Teehalt's monitor was safe inside the ship.

Gersen returned into the ship, closed the ports. Time now was
of the essence. Suthiro would require about ten minutes to com-
municate his success, either to Dasce or conceivably to Malagate
himself. Messages would then go out to various other spaceports of
the Concourse, calling off the alert. Malagate would not receive the
monitor, if Gersen were in luck, for several hours, perhaps not for
days, depending upon his whereabouts. There would be an addi-
tional delay while the deception was discovered, and then Mala-
gate's organization would once again be mobilized, the focus now
upon the Feritse Precision Instrument Company at Sansontiana, on

Olliphane.

By this time Gersen hoped to have been there and gone. Cer-
tainly he would have no time to spare. Without further delay he
started the jets, rose into the blue Alphanor sky, pointed the boat
toward Olliphane.

From Popular Handbook of the Planets:

Olliphane, nineteenth planet of the Rigel Concourse.
Planetary Constants:

Diameter      6700 miles

Mass           0.9

etc.

General Remarks: Olliphane is the most dense of the
Rigel planets, and orbits close at the outer edge of the Hab-
itable Zone. It has been speculated that when the proto-
planet of the Third Group disintegrated Olliphane received
an unduly large share of core materials. In any event, until
recent astronomic times, Olliphane was subject to intense
plutonic activity, and even today boasts ninety-two active
volcanoes.

Olliphane is highly mineralized. An imposing relief
provides vast hydro-electric potential, furnishing cheaper
energy than is possible from traditional sources. A diligent
disciplined population, utilizing these advantages, has made
Olliphane the most highly industrialized world of the Con-
course, rivaled only by Tantamount, with its shipyards, and
Lyonnesse, with its monumental Gnome Iron Works.

Olliphane is relatively cool and wet, with the population
concentrated in the Equatorial Zone, notably around the
shores of Lake Clare. Here the visitor will find the ten larg-
est cities of the planet, led by Kindune, Sansontiana, and
New Ossining.

THE DEMON PRINCES

Olliphane is likewise nutritionally self-sufficient. Few
other than natural foods are consumed, of which per capita
consumption is highest in the Concourse, third highest
among major worlds of the Oikumene. The alpine valleys
surrounding the lake are devoted to dairying and the pro-
duction of greenstuffs.

The Olphs are a mingled stock, derived primarily from
a colony of Hyperborean Skaters. They are typically blond
to brown of hair, large-boned, often inclined to corpulence,
with fair undyed skins. They are respectful of orthodoxy,
sedate in personal lives, but notoriously enthusiastic during
the public fetes and celebrations which serve as emotional
release to an otherwise conventional and reserved folk.

A caste system, though without legal status, permeates
every phase of the social structure. Prerogatives are care-
fully denned, jealously observed; the language has expanded
and loosened to provide at least a dozen styles of address.

From "A Study of Inter-Class Accommodations," by
Frerb Hankbert, in Journal of the Anthropicene, Vol.

Mcxm:

It is a remarkable experience for a visitor to watch a
pair of Olphs, strange to each other, appraising each other
for caste. The operation requires no more than an instant,
and appears almost intuitive, for the persons concerned may
well be wearing standard garments.

I have questioned many Olphs in this matter, and can
still make no definite assertions. In the first place most
Olphs blandly deny the existence of caste structure, and
consider their society completely egalitarian. In the second
place, the Olphs themselves are not quite sure how they
divine the caste of a stranger. He either has more of the
quality known as haute than oneself, or less.

I have theorized that rapid unconscious and almost un-
detectable eye movements are the key to the assessment of
haute, with characteristic shifts or steadiness indicative of
each caste. Hands and hand morions may play a similar
function.

As might be expected, high officials of the bureaucracy

THE STAR KI\G

enjoy the most exalted caste, and especially the Civic Tu-
telars, as the Olphs name their police.

Gersen landed at the Kmdune spaceport and, with Tcehalt's mon-
itor in a suitcase, boarded a subway for Sansontiana. To the best of
his knowledge no one had heeded his arrival, no one had followed
him.

But now time was growing short. At any moment Malagate
must realize he had been duped and would seek to re-establish con-
tact. For the moment Gersen considered himself safe; nevertheless,
he performed a few classic maneuvers to disengage himself from
stick-tight* or tracker. Finding nothing to disconcert him, he de-
posited the monitor in a public locker, at the subway interchange
under the Rapunzel Hotel, retaining only the brass serial plate.
Then, boarding an express car, he was delivered in fifteen minutes,
to Sansontiana, eighty miles south. He consulted a directory, trans-
ferred to a local for the Ferristoun District, and presently was dis-
charged into a station only a few hundred yards from the Feritse
Precision Instrument Company.

Ferristoun was a dismal district of industrial structures, ware-
houses, an occasional tavern; these latter cheerful little nooks, lavish
with ornament, colored glass, carved wood, in emulation of the
grand pleasure arcades along the lake shore.

The time was middle morning; rain had darkened the black
cobblestone pavement. Six-wheel drays lumbered along the streets,
the entire district sounded to a subdued hum of engines. As Gersen
walked a short sharp bleat of whistle signaled a change of shift; the
sidewalks at once became crowded with workers. They were pale
people, blank and humorless of face, wearing warm well-made cov-
eralls in one of three colors: gray, dark blue, or mustard yellow; a

"Stick-tight-these come in at least five varieties, suitable to various applications

The bervo-opticai-a spy cell supported on rotary \vings, remotely guided h\ an oper-
ator

The automatic-a similar cell [o follow ,1 radioactive or monochromatic lag fixed to, ur
smeared upon, a man or vehicle

The Gulp spy master-a semi-inteiligenr flying crearure trained to follow any suh|ect
of interest, clever, cooptrative, ichahle, hue relatively large and nodceable
The M.inv spy bird-a smaller, less obnusive cre.irure, trained to perform smularlv, less
docile and intelligent, more aggressive
The Manx sp\ bird modification-similar to the above, equipped with control devices

54

THE DEMON PRINCES

contrasting belt, either black or white; black round-topped kaftans.
All were standard issue, the government being an elaborate syndi-
calism, as thoroughgoing, careful and humorless as its constituency.
Two further bleats of the whistle sounded; as if by magic the
streets cleared, the workers ducking into buildings like cockroaches

exposed to the light.

A moment later Gersen came to a stained concrete facade on
which large bronze letters read FERITSE, and below, in the hooked
Olph script; Precision Instruments. Again it had become necessary to
expose himself to his enemies; the prospect was far from comfort-
able. Well, there was no help for it. A single small door led into
the building. Gersen entered, to find himself in a long dim hallway,
a concrete tunnel, which after a hundred feet brought him to the
administration offices. He went to stand at a counter, and was ap-
proached by an elderly woman of pleasant appearance and manner.
By local custom, she wore masculine garments while at work; a dark
blue suit with a black belt. Recognizing Gersen as an off-worlder,
of unguessable caste, she bowed with unctuous courtesy and asked
In a low reverent voice: "How, sir, may we serve you?"

Gersen tendered the brass plate. "I have lost the key to my

monitor, and I want a duplicate."

The woman blinked. Her manner underwent an instant, if un-
conscious, change. She reached hesitantly for the plate, held it be-
tween thumb and forefinger as if it were tainted, looked over her

shoulder.

"Well?" asked Gersen in a voice made suddenly harsh by ten-
sion. "Is there any difficulty?"

"There are new regulations," the woman muttered. "I have had
instructions to. ... I must consult Director-Controller Masensen.

Excuse me, sir."

She went almost at a trot to a side door, disappeared. Gersen

waited, the subconscious perceptors in his brain ticking and prick-
ling. He was more nervous than he cared to be; nervousness
clouded the Judgment, affected the accuracy of observation... . The
woman slowly returned to the counter, looking to right and left,
evading Gersen's eyes. "Just a moment, sir. If you will wait.. . .
There are records to be inspected; isn't this the way always? When

a person wishes haste. . . ."

"Where is the serial plate?" asked Gersen.
"Director-Controller Masensen has taken it into charge."

THE STAR KING

55

"In that case, I'll speak to Director-Controller Masensen at
once."

"I will inquire," said the woman.

"Please don't bother," said Gersen. Ignoring her startled
squeak of protest, he let himself through a swinging door, passed
ahead of her into the inner chamber. A portly thick-faced man in
faddish Special Issue blue and dove gray sat at a desk talking into
a telephone. He looked at the brass serial plate as he spoke. At the
sight of Gersen his eyebrows rose, his mouth sagged in irritation
and dismay. Quickly he laid down the telephone. There was an
instant while his eyes nicked up and down Gersen's clothes before
he shouted, "Who are you, sir? Why do you come into my room?"

Gersen reached across the desk, took possession of the serial
plate. "Whom do you telephone in connection with this matter?"

Masensen became fiercely haughty. "None of your concern,
whatsoever! Impudence! Here in my office!"

Gersen spoke in a soft even voice. "The Tutelars will be inoer-
ested in your illegal actions. I am puzzled that you choose to defy
the law."

Masensen sat back, in puff-cheeked alarm. The Tutelars, of a
caste so elevated that the distinction between Masensen and his
office clerk would seem insignificant, were not to be trifled with.
They were no respecters of persons; they tended to believe the
accusation rather than the protestation of innocence. They wore
uniforms of a sumptuous thick pile which showed various sheens
according to the light: plum, dark green, gold. Not so much arro-
gant as intensely serious, they conducted themselves to the full
implications of their caste. On Olliphane penal torture was admin-
istered as a cheaper, if not more effective, deterrent than fines of
imprisonment; the threat of a police accusation could therefore
bring consternation to the most innocent.

Director-Controller Masensen cried out, "I have never defied
the law! Do I refuse your request? No indeed."

"Then furnish my key immediately, as the law requires."

"Softly then," said Masensen. "W''e cannot go so fast. There
are records to inspect. Don't forget, we have more important affairs
than leaping to serve every raggle-taggle vagabond of a locator who
marches into our room to insult us."

Gersen stared into the round pale face, which gave back hos-

56

THE DKMON PRINCES

tility and defiance. "Very well," said Gersen. "I will go to complain
before the Board ofTutelars."

"Now then, be reasonable!" blurted Masensen in heavy affa-
bility. "All things do not come at once."

"Where is my key? Do you still plan to defy the law?"
"Naturally, no such thing is possible. I will see to the matter.
Come, be patient. Take a chair and compose yourself for just these

few minutes."

"I do not care to wait."

"Go, then!" bellowed Masensen. "I have done exactly as the
law requires!" His lips were pushing in and out; his face was pink
with fury; he hammered the desk with his fists. The clerk, standing
horrified in the doorway, emitted a low wail of terror. "Bring the
Tutelars!" raged Masensen. "I will accuse you of molestation and
threats! I will see you whipped!"

Gersen dared delay no longer. Furiously he turned, departed.
He passed through the outer office and out into the concrete tun-
nel. He paused, turned a quick look behind him. The receptionist,
fluttering in excitement, paid him no heed. Grinning like a wolf,
Gersen walked up the hall, away from the entrance, and presently
came to an arched opening giving upon the production chambers.

Standing to the side, inconspicuous in the shadow of a pilaster,
he made a careful appraisal of the rooms, tracing the various pro-
duction lines. Certain phases were under biomechanical control,
others were performed by debtors, moral deviants, vagrants or
drunks, leased by the dozen from the city. They sat chained to their
benches, guarded by an old warden, and worked with apathetic ef-
ficiency. The room supervisor sat on an elevated platform, which
could swing on a boom to any area of the room.

Gersen located the process where monitors were constructed,
identified the area where locks were installed: an alcove two hun-
dred feet along the wall, beside a cubicle where a clerical worker,
perhaps a timekeeper, sat on a high chair.

He made a final survey of the room. No one had showed the
slightest interest in him. The supervisor's attention was turned else-
where. He walked quickly along the wall to the cubicle where the
clerk sat: a harassed hollow-cheeked young-old man, with sardonic
black eyebrows, a wrinkled sallow skin, a cynical hook of nose and
curl of mouth: a man not necessarily a pessimist, but apparently one

THE STAR KING

57

without optimism. Gersen stepped to the back of the cubicle, where
there were shadows.

The clerk looked around in astonishment. "Well, sir? W-Tiat do
you wish? This is not permitted; you must know that."

Gersen asked, "Would you care to earn a hundred SVU-very
quickly?"

The clerk grimaced sadly. "Of course. W'Tio must I kill?"

"My wants are less demanding," said Gersen. He displayed the
brass plate. "Get me the key for this instrument, and fifty SVU is
yours." He placed five purple notes on the table. "Find out to
whom the serial number is registered-fifty SVU more." He
counted down the notes.                  '

The clerk looked at the money, then turned a speculative glance
over his shoulder, out across the shop. "WTiy not go to the front
office? The Director-Controller usually handles such things."

"I have irritated Director-Controller Masensen," said Gersen.
"He makes difficulties, and I am in a hurry."

"In other words, Director-Controller Masensen would not ap-
prove of my helping you."

"Which is why I offer you the hundred SVU to perform an
entirely legal errand for me."

"Is it worth my job?"

"If I leave by the back way, no one need know. And Masensen
will never know the difference."

The clerk considered. "Very well," he said. "I can do it. But
I'll need another fifty SVU for the keymaker."

Gersen shrugged, brought forth an orange fifty SVU note. "I
will appreciate haste."

The clerk laughed. "From my viewpoint, the sooner you are
gone the better. I'll have to look through two sets of records. We're
not too efficient here. Meanwhile keep to the back, out of sight."
He noted the serial number, left the cubicle, disappeared behind a
partition.

Time passed. Gersen noticed that the back wall was paneled
with painted glass. Bending, he put his eye to a scratch and obtained
a blurred view of the room behind the partition.

The clerk stood at an old-fashioned filing case, nipping cards.
He found the file, made a set of notes. But now from a side door
Masensen lumbered into the room. The clerk closed the file, walked
away. Masensen stopped short, fired a question at the clerk, who

58

THP^ DEMON PRINCES

responded with an indifferent word or two. Gersen paid silent trib-
ute to his sang-froid. Masensen glared after him, then wheeled and

went to the files.

With one eye on Masensen's burly back, the clerk bent over
the keymaker, whispered in his ear, departed. Masensen looked
around suspiciously, but the clerk had left the room.

The machinist dropped a key blank into the machine, consulted
a paper, punched a set of buttons to control the notches, twists,
conductivities and magnetic nodes of the key.

Masensen rummaged through the files, extracted a card,
marched from the room. The clerk at once returned. The machinist
tossed him the key; the clerk came back to the cubicle. He handed
the key to Gersen, took five purple notes from the table.

"And the registration?" asked Gersen.

"I can't help you. Masensen got to the files ahead of me and

removed the card."

Gersen glumly considered the key. His main purpose had been
to learn the registered owner of the monitor. The key of course
was better than nothing; the record filament was easier to hide than
the monitor itself- But time was short; he dared delay no longer.
"Keep the other fifty," he said. The money, after all, had come
from Malagate. "Buy your children a present."

The clerk shook his head. "I accept pay only for what I achieve.

I need no gift."

"As you wish." Gersen returned the money to his pocket. "Tell

me how to leave inconspicuously."

"You had better go the way you came," said the clerk. "If you
try to go out the back way you will be stopped by the patrol."
"Thank you," said Gersen. "You are not Olph?"
"No. But I've lived here so long I've forgotten anything better."
Gersen looked cautiously from the cubicle. The situation was
as before. He slipped out, walked quickly along the wall to the arch,
slipped through into the concrete tunnel. Passing the door which
led into the administration offices, he looked through, saw Masen-
sen pacing back and forth, evidently in a vicious mood. Gersen
stepped past, hurried down the hall toward the outside door.

But now this door opened. A man entered, his features dark
against the outside light. Gersen continued forward briskly, confi-
dently, as if his business were the most legitimate in the world-

THE STAR KING

59

The man approached; their eyes met. The newcomer stopped:

it was Tristano the Earthman.

"Luck!" declared Tristano in a voice of hushed pleasure. "Luck
indeed."

Gersen made no reply. Slowly, carefully, he sought to sidle past,
too nervous and tense to feel fear. Tristano took a step, blocked his
way. Gersen halted, appraised him. Tristano was shorter than him-
self by an inch, but thick in the neck and shoulders, flat but rather
wide at the hips: an attribute indicating agility and good muscular
leverage. His head was small, almost hairless; his features were neat.
The ears were surgically cropped, the nose flat, the area around the
mouth thick with muscle. His expression was calm, with a serene
secret half-smile twisting up the corners of his mouth. He seemed
reckless rather than vicious: a man who would fee! neither hate nor
pity, a man driven only by the need to fulfill the extremes of his
capabilities. A highly dangerous man, thought Gersen. He said qui-
etly, "Stand aside."

Tristano extended his left hand almost affably. "Whatever your
name is, be wise. Come with me." Flicking and weaving the ex-
tended hand, he leaned forward. Gersen watched Tristano's eyes,
ignoring the distracting left hand. WTien the right hand darted forth
he knocked it aside, drove his fist into Tristano's face.

Tristano reeled back, as if in desperate pain, and Gersen pre-
tended to be deceived. He rushed forward, arm cocked back to
administer another blow, then halted abruptly as with incredible
agility Tristano swung up his leg: a kick intended to cripple or kill.
As the foot swung by, Gersen seized toe and heel, twisted hard.
Tristano, relaxing instantly, turned in mid-air, pulled himself into
a ball, used the momentum of his turn and fall to wrench the foot
harmlessly from Gersen's grasp. He caught himself catlike on hands
and feet, started to bounce away, but Gersen caught the back of
Tristano's head, yanked Tristano's face down against his knee. Car-
tilage crushed, teeth broke.

Tristano fell back, now startled. For an instant he sat laxly
asprawl. Gersen caught Tristano's leg and ankle in a lock, threw
over his weight, and felt the bone snap. Tristano sucked in his
breath. Snatching for his knife, he left his throat exposed; Gersen
hacked backhand at the larynx. Tristano's throat was well-muscled,
and he retained consciousness, but fell back, feebly waving his knife.

60

THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen kicked it away, but edged forward carefully, for Tristano
might be equipped with one or a dozen secret built-in weapons.

"Leave me be," croaked Tristano. "Leave me be, go vour way."
He dragged himself to the wall.

Gersen cautiously reached forth, giving Tristano the option to
counter. Tristano refused; Gersen made contact with the massive
shoulders, gripped. Tristano suffered this. The two stared eye to
eye- Tristano made a sudden grab for an armlock, simultaneously
bringing up his good leg. Gersen avoided the armlock, seized the
leg, prepared to break the other ankle. Behind him there was out-
cry, a flurry of movement. Director-Controller Masensen, face con-
torted, came running awkwardly down the hall. Behind him trotted
two or three underlings.

"Stop this!" cried Masensen. "What do you do here, in this
building?" lie fairly spat in Gersen's face, "You are a devil, a crim-
inal of the worst sort! You insult me, you attack my customer! I
will have the Tutelars attend to you!"

"By all means," panted Gersen, suddenly brimming with vin-

dictiveness. "Call the Tutelars."

Masensen raised his eyebrows. "What? You have this insolence
too?"

"No insolence is intended," said Gersen. "A good citizen assists
the police in apprehending criminals."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a certain name which I need speak only once to the
Tutelars. I need only hint that you and this person are in collusion.
For proof? This man"- he looked down at the half-smiling, half-
dazed Tristano-"do you know him?"

"No. Of course I do not know him."

"But you identified him as a customer."

"So I'thought him."

"He is a notorious murderer."

"Waning, my agile friend," croaked Tristano. "No murderer I."

"Lugo Teehalt is not alive to contradict you."

Tristano essayed a grimace of outraged innocence. "W^e spoke,
you and I, while the old man died."

"In this case, neither Dasce nor the Sarkoy killed Teehalt. Who
came with you to Smade's Planet?"

"We came alone."

THE STAR KWG

61

Gersen stared in puzzlement. "I find this hard to believe. Hil-
demar Dasce told Teehalt that Malagate awaited him outside."

Tristano's response was a faint shrug.

Gersen stood looking down at him. "I respect the Tutelars and
their scourges; I dare not kill you. But I can break more bones, and
you will walk sideways like a crab. I can spread apart your eyes, and
you will look in two different directions the rest of your life."

The lines bracketing Tristano's mouth became deep and mel-
ancholy. He slumped heavily back against the wall, uninterested,
sodden with pain. He mumbled, "Since when is killing beyond the
Pale called murder?"

"Who killed Teehalt?"

"I saw nothing. I stood with you, by the door."

"But the three of you came together to Smade's."

Tristano made no response. Gersen leaned forward, performed
a quick vicious act. Masensen made an inarticulate sound, stumbled
away; then, halting as if caught by a wire, he slowly turned to stare.
Tristano looked numbly at his dangling hand.-

"Who killed Teehalt?"

Tristano shook his head. "I will say no more. I would rather
limp and squint than die of the Sarkoy's cluthe."

"I can infect you with cluthe."

"I will say no more."

Gersen leaned forward, but Masensen uttered a short quavering
cry. "This is intolerable! I will not allow it! Must you give me
nightmares? I do not sleep well."

Gersen examined him without friendliness. "You would do well
not to interfere."

"I will call in the Tutelars. Your acts are grossly illegal; you
have broken laws of the state."

Gersen laughed. "Call the Tutelars. We will learn who has
broken laws and who will be punished."

Masensen rubbed his pallid cheeks. "Go then. Never return,
and I will say no more."

"Not so fast," said Gersen, in high good spirits. "You are in
serious difficulties. I came here on a legal errand; you telephone for
a murderer, who attacks me. This conduct no one should ignore."

Masensen licked his lips. "You are making false charges; I will
add this to my particulars." It was a poor effort. Gersen laughed.
He went to Tristano, turned him over on his face, pulled the jacket

62

THK DEMON PRINCES

down the broad back to constrict the arms, tied it in place with
Tristano's sash. With his broken bones Tristano was now immo-
bilized.

Gersen stepped down the hall, motioned to Masensen. "Let us

go to your office."

Gersen led the way, with Masensen stumping reluctantly be-
hind; once within the inner office, Masensen sank on nerveless legs

into his chair.

"Now then," said Gersen, "call the Tutelars."

Masensen shook his head. "It-it is better to make no difficul-
ties. The Tutelars are sometimes unreasonable."

"In that case you must tell me what I want to know."

Masensen bowed his head. "Ask."

"Who did you telephone when I appeared?"

Masensen showed extreme agitation. "I cannot tell you," he
said huskily. "Do you insist that I be killed?"

"The Tutelars will ask the same question, as well as many oth-
ers."

Masensen looked in anguish to right, left, up at the ceiling. "A
man," he said, "at the Grand Pomador Hotel. His name-Spock."

"I know better," said Gersen. "You are lying. I give you one
more chance. Who did you call?"

Masensen shook his head desperately. "I do not lie."

"Have you seen the man?"

"Yes. He is tall. He has short pink hair, a long big head and
no neck. His face is a peculiar red color, and he wears dark spec-
tacles, and a nose guard-very unusual. He has no more feeling

than a fish."

Gersen nodded. Masensen was telling the truth. This would be
Hildemar Dasce. He turned. "Now then, this is most important. I
wish to know to whom the monitor is registered."

Masensen started to shake his head, then gave a fatalistic shrug
and rose to his feet. "I will go for the record."

"No," said Gersen. "We will go together. And if we cannot
find the record, I swear to you I will lodge the strongest possible

charges."

Masensen rubbed his forehead wearily. "I remember now. The
record is here." He brought forth a card from his desk. "Sea Prov-
ince University, Avente, Alphanor. Beneficial Grant 291."

"No name?"

THE STAR KING

63

"No. And there is no value to you in the key. The university
uses a coder in each of its monitors. We have sold them several."

"Indeed." The use of a coder, to thwart the double-dealing of
an unscrupulous locater, was common enough.

Masensen's voice became heavily ironic. "The university has
evidently sold you a coded monitor without the descrambling strip.
If I were you I would complain to the Avente authorities."

Gersen considered the implications of the information. They
were far-reaching indeed, if one certain condition were met.

"Why did you telephone the man Spock? Did he offer you
money?"

Masensen nodded miserably. "Money. And-he made threats.
An indiscretion in my past-" he made a vague gesture.

"Tell me, did Spock realize that the monitor was coded?"

"Certainly. I mentioned this to him, but he was already aware
of it."

Gersen nodded. The condition had been met. Attel Malagate
must necessarily have access to the descrambling strip at the Sea
Province University.

He reflected for a moment. Information was accumulating.
Malagate himself had killed Teehalt, if Hildemar Dasce were to be
believed. Tristano indirectly had verified this; he had conveyed
more information than he meant to. He had also confused the sit-
uation. If Dasce, the Sarkoy poisoner, and Tristano had come to-
gether, with no fourth person, how was the presence of Malagate
to be explained? Had he arrived simultaneously in another ship?
Possible, but unlikely. . . .

Masensen was staring at him anxiously, miserably.

"I'm going now," said Gersen. "Do you plan to tell this Spock
that I was here?"

Masensen nodded, all his bluster departed. "I must."

"But you will wait one hour."

Masensen made no protest. He might or might not respect
Gersen's wishes-most likely not. But there was no help for this.
Gersen turned, departed the office, leaving Masensen utterly de-
flated.

Walking down the hall Gersen overtook Tristano, who some-
how had managed to squirm and writhe himself erect. Now he
hopped down the hall, one foot dragging at a queer angle. He
looked over his shoulder at Gersen, still wearing the quiet half

64

THE, DEMON PRINCES

smile, though the muscles around his mouth were tight. Gersen
stopped to consider the man. It would be wise and desirable to kill
him, except for the possibility of police interference. So, contenting
himself with a polite nod, and stepping past Tristano, he went his

way.

6

Preface to Men of the Oikumene,
by Jan Holberk Vaenz LXII:

There is a stifling quality to this age which has been
observed, remarked on and lamented by a number of the
contemporary anthropologists: an oddity, for never before
have such variegated opportunities and possible channels of
life existed. It is profitable to consider this situation, for it
will recur many times in the pages to follow.

The most important fact of human life is the infinity of
space: the bounds which can never be reached, the worlds
without number still unseen-in short, the Beyond. It is my
belief that the awareness of these awesome possibilities has
somehow clotted at the core of human consciousness, and
has diminished or dampened human enterprise,

An instant qualification is necessary. Men of enterprise
indeed exist, though sadly enough most of them work Be-
yond, and their enterprise is not entirely constructive. (The
statement is not completely ironical: many of the most nox-
ious forms of life exert some sort of useful side effect.)

But, in general, ambition is turned inward, rather than
out toward the obvious goals. Why? Does infinity, as an
object of experience instead of a mathematical abstraction,
daunt the human mind? Are we complacent and secure,
knowing that the riches of the galaxy are always there for
the taking? Is contemporary life already sated by too rich a
diet or novelty? Is it conceivable that the Institute wields
more control over the human psyche than we suspect? Or

THK DEMON PRINCES

is there current a feeling of frustration ant] staleness, the
conviction that all glory- has been won, that all the mean-
ingful goals have been achieved?

Undoubtedly there is no single answer. But several
points are noteworthy. First (to be mentioned without com-
ment) is the peculiar situation where the most influential
and effective systems of the day are the private, or at best
semipublic, associations: the IPCC, the Institute, theJarnell

Corporation.

Second is the decline of the general level of education.
The extremes are certainly farther apart; the savants of the
Institute on the one hand, and, say, the serfs of a Tertullian
estate on the other. If we consider the condition of men
beyond the Pale, the polarity is even more pronounced.
There are obvious sources to the decline. Pioneers settling
in strange and often hostile environments have sheer sur-
vival for their first concern. Possibly even more daunting is
the unmanageable mass of accumulated knowledge. The
trend toward specialization began with modern times, but
after the breakout into space, and the consequent new am-
plitude of information, specialization has become even

more narrowly focused.

It is perhaps pertinent to consider the manner of man
who has become the new specialist. He lives in a materi-
alistic age, where comparatively small interest is given to
absolutes. He is a man of charm, wit, sophistication, but no
profundity. His ideals are not abstract. His field of en-
deavor, if he is a scholar, may be mathematics or one of the
physical sciences; but it is a hundred times more likely to
be a phase of what loosely are called humanistic studies:

history, sociology, comparatives, symbology, esthetics, an-
thropology, the varieties of experience, penology, educa-
tion, communication, administration and coercion, not to
mention the morass of psychology already trampled by gen-
erations of incompetents, and the still unexplored wilder-
ness of psionics.

There are also those who, like the author, ensconce

themselves on a thunderous crag ot omniscience, and with
protestations of humility which are either unconvincing or
totally absent, assume the obligation of appraisal, commen-

THE STAR KING

dation, derogation or denunciation of their contemporaries.
Still, by and large it is an easier job than digging a ditch.

From Ten Explorers: A Study of a Type,
by Oscar Anderson:

Every world has its distinctive psychic aroma: this is a
matter attested to by each of the ten explorers. Isack Can-
aday is willing to wager that if he were blindfolded and
taken to any planet of the Oikumene or the immediate Be-
yond, he would correctly identify this planet immediately
upon removal of the blindfold. How does he perform such
a feat? At first glance it seems incomprehensible. Canaday
himself professes not to know the source of his knowledge.
"I Just raise my nose, I look around the sky, I take a couple
jumps-and it comes to me."

Canaday's explanation is of course arch and consciously
quaint. Our senses are undoubtedly much more acute than
we suspect. The composition of the air, the color of the
light and the sky, the curvature and proximity of the hori-
zon, the tension of gravity: these are presumably interpreted
in our brains to produce an individuality, exactly as the sight
of eyes, a nose, hair, a mouth, ears, creates the look of a
face.

All of this without mention of flora and fauna, the ar-
tifices of autochthone or man, the possibly distinctive look
of sun or suns. . . .

From Life, Volume III,
by Unspiek, Baron Bodissey:

As a society matures, the struggle for survival imper-
ceptibly graduates and changes emphasis, and becomes
what can only be termed the quest for pleasure. This is a
large statement, possibly of no startling novelty. Neverthe-
less, as a generality, it affords a rich resonance of implica-
tions. The author suggests as a lively topic for a dissertation
a survey of various environment-survival situations and the
special types of pleasure goals deriving therefrom. It seems
probable, from a moment's reflection, that every particular

68

THE DFMON PRINCFS

scarcity or compulsion or danger generates a corresponding
psychic tension demanding a particular gratification.

Gersen returned to the subway terminal at Sansontiana. He re-
co\ered the monitor, immediately made a trial of the key. To his
gratification the lock moved smoothly, the case slid open.

There was neither explosive nor acid present He extracted the
little cylinder containing the filament, weighed it m his hand. Then
he stepped into a post-office booth and mailed the cylinder to him-
self at the Hotel Credenza, Avente, Alphanor. He rode the subway
back to Kindune and the spaceport, and with no untoward incident
took his ship aloft.

The blue crescent of Alphanor presently bulged across the sky,
with Ri^el dazzling beyond. When the seven continents began to
emerge from the dark, Gersen engaged his autopilot into the Av-
ente landing program, and so was guided down to the spaceport.
The crane lifted the boat, earned it to a storage bay; Gersen
emerged, made a cautious reconnaissance. Finding no evidence of
his enemies, he proceeded down the ranks of stored spacecraft to
the terminal building Here he breakfasted and considered his plans.
They were, he decided, completely straightforward, deriving from
a progression of logical steps in which he could see no flaw:

a. Lugo Teehalt's monitor was registered to the Sea Province

University.

b. The information on the monitor filament was coded, acces-
sible only upon application of the decoding, or descramblmg,

strip
c. The decoding strip was in possession of the Sea Province

University at Avente.
d.

1. According to Lugo Teehalt, Attel Malagate had been his
original sponsor (a fact he had apparently understood for
the first time at Brmktown. Indiscretions by Hildemar
Dasce^ Everything considered, Malagate probably still
regarded his incognito secure).

2  Malagate vigorously sought possession of the monitor
and its filament, and hence must have access to the de-
coding strip.
e.      Gersen's course of action would therefore be-

THE STAR K1\G

69

1. Identify the persons who had access to the decoding
strip.

2. Learn which of these fulfilled a set of conditions consis-
tent with the identity and activities of Malagate. Which,
for example, had been gone long enough for a visit to
Smade's Planet^

A straightforward and logical line of attack indeed. But, Gersen
reflected, the implementation of his logic might not be quite so
easy. He dare not arouse Malagate's apprehensions. To a certain
extent, possession ofTeehalt's filament provided security; however,
if Malagate felt a personal threat, he would find little difficulty, and
no qualms, in arranging an assassination. To this moment, Malagate
had no reason to fear exposure, and it would be foolhardy to con-
vince him otherwise. The initiative, for the present, was Gersen's;

there was no occasion for breakneck haste. . . . His attention be-
came distracted. In a booth nearby sat a pair of pretty girls who
evidently had come to the terminal to welcome a friend, or to see
one off- Gersen contemplated them wistfully, aware, not for the
first time, of an empty area in his life, and feeling a dissatisfaction
not unlike the indefinable emotion he had known at Smade's Planet.
Frivolity . . . the two girls evidently had very little else on their
minds. One had dyed her hair forest green and toned her skin a
delicate lettuce green. The other wore a wig of lavender metal shav-
ings with dead-white skin toning; an elaborate cloche of silver leaves
and tendrils clung to her forehead, clasped her cheeks.

Gersen drew a deep breath. Undoubtedly he had lived a grim,
cheerless existence. Thinking back across the years, scenes came
crowding into his mind, all of which were variations on a single
theme: other children occupied with irresponsible pleasure, while
he, a rather thin boy with a grave face, watched from a distance.
He had felt only interest and wonder at the easy gaiety-so he
recalled-never relating the scenes to himself. His grandfather had
seen to that. .. .

One of the girls at the nearby booth had noticed his attention;

she whispered to her friend. Both glanced across the aisle, then
ostentatiously ignored him. Gersen smiled ruefully. He felt no con-
fidence in his dealings with women; he had known few intimately.
He frowned, turned the two a wary side glance. Not impossibly,
Malagate had sent these girls to beguile him. Ridiculous. Why two;i

70

THE DF.MON PRINCES

They rose and departed the restaurant, each turning on him one
swift covert glance.

Gersen watched their retreat, resisting the sudden urge to run
after them, to introduce himself, to make them his friends. . . . Ri-
diculous again, doubly ridiculous. What would he say? He pictured
the two pretty faces at first puzzled, then embarrassed, while he
stood making lame efforts to ingratiate himself. The girls were
gone. Just as well, thought Gersen, half amused, half angry with
himself. Still, why deceive himself? Living the life of half a man
was difficult, a source of dissatisfaction. The circumstances of his
life had given him small command of the social graces.

Still, what of that? He knew his mission in life, and he was
superbly prepared to fulfill this mission. He had no doubts, no un-
certainties; his goals were exactly defined. A sudden idea disturbed
the flow of his self-reassurances: Where would he be without this
clear purpose? If he were less artificially motivated, he might not
show so well in comparison with the easy men around him, with
their pleasant manners and fluent talk. . . . Turning the thought
over, back and forth, Gersen began to feel spiritually deficient. No
phase of his life had occurred by his own free choice. He felt no
slightest tremor in his dedication: this was not the point at issue.
But, he thought, a man's goals should not be imposed upon him
until he knew enough of the world to make his own survey, to weigh
his own decisions. He had not been given this option. The decision
had been made, he had accepted it. ... After all, what matter? More
to the point, what would he do when and if he succeeded in his
aims? The chances were small, of course. But-assuming the death
of five men-what then would he do with his life? Once or twice
before he had reached this point in his reflections; warned by some
subconscious signal, he had never gone beyond it. Nor did he do
so now. His breakfast was finished; the girls, who had prompted
him to his brooding, had taken themselves off. Evidently they were
not agents ofMalagate the Woe.

Gersen sat a few minutes longer considering the best approach
to his problem, and again decided upon simple directness.

He went to a communication booth and was connected to the
Information Bureau at the Sea Province University in the suburb
of Remo, ten miles south.

The telescreen flickered first with the university seal, then a
conventional reception presentation, printed with the words, Please

THE STAR KING

71

speak clearly. Simultaneously a recorded voice asked, "How may we
serve you?"

Gersen spoke to the still unseen receptionist. "I want infor-
mation regarding the university's exploration program. W^hich de-
partment is directly concerned?"

The screen clarified through a decorative cross-hatching to
show the gold-toned face of a young woman with blonde hair in
flamboyant puffs at each ear. "That depends on the type of explo-
ration."

"It would be connected with Beneficial Grant 291."

"Just a moment, sir, and I'll inquire." The scene retreated be-
hind the cross-hatching.

Presently the girl's face reappeared. "I'll connect you with the
Department of Galactic Morphology, sir."

Gersen looked into another pale receptionist face. This young
woman had arch piquant features toned nacreous silver, and wore
her hair in a dark nimbus of ten thousand tiny varnished spikes.
"Galactic Morph."

"I want to inquire about Beneficial Grant 291," said Gersen.

The girl considered for a moment. "You mean the grant itself,
sir?"

"The grant, how it operates, who administers it."
The arch young face pursed its mouth dubiously. "There's not

much I can tell you, sir. It's the fund which finances our exploration

program."

"I'm particularly interested in a locater named Lugo Teehalt,
who worked under the grant."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't know anything about him. Mr.
Detteras could tell you, but he's not available for appointments
today."

"Mr. Detteras hires the locators?"

The girl twisted her eyebrows, squinted; she had a mobile ex-
pression, a wide mouth with a merry upward twitch at the corners.
Gersen watched her in fascination. "I don't know too much about
things like that, sir. We have our part in the Master Exploration
Program, of course. That's not under Grant 291, though. Mr. Det-
teras is Director of Exploration; he could tell you whatever you
wanted to know."

"Is there anyone else in the department who might sponsor a
locater on Grant 291 ?"

72

THE DF.MON PRINCES

The girl looked speculatively sidewise at Gersen, wondering as
to the nature of his interest. "Are vou a police official?" she asked

timidly.

Gersen laughed. "No, I'm a friend of Mr. Teehalt's, trying to

finish up some business for him."

"Oh. Well, there's Mr. Kelle who is Chairman of the Research
Planning Committee. And Mr. Warweave, the Honorary Provost,
who made the donation for Grant 291. Mr. Kelle is gone for the
morning; his daughter is marrying tomorrow and he's very busy."

"What about Mr. Warweave? Can I see him?"

"Well-" the girl pursed her lips, bent her head over an ap-
pointment panel. "He's busy until three, and then he keeps an open
hour, for students or persons without appointments."

"That would suit me very well."

"If you'd care to leave your name," said the girl demurely, "I'll
put it at the head of the list. Then you won't have to wait, in case

there are lots of others."

Gersen was startled by her solicitude. He searched her face,
and was further surprised to find her smiling at him. "That's very
kind of you. My name is Kirth Gersen."

He watched her write. She seemed in no hurry to terminate
the conversation. He asked, "What does an Honorary Provost do?

What are his duties?"

She shrugged- "I don't know, really. He comes and goes. I think
he does just what he wants. Anyone who is rich does just what he

wants. Wait till I'm rich."

"One more thing," Gersen said. "Are you familiar with the

routine of the department?"

"Why yes, I should say so." The girl laughed. "In so far as

there is a routine."

"The recording filament of the monitor in a locater boat is

coded. You're aware of this?"

"So I have been told." The girl was definitely speaking to Ger-
sen as an individual, rather than a face on a screen. Gersen thought
her deliciously pretty, in spite of her rather extravagant hair style.
Definitely he had been in space too long. He kept his voice even
with an effort. "WTio unscrambles the filaments? WT-io is in charge

of the code?"

Again the girl was doubtful. "Mr. Detteras for one. Perhaps

Mr. Kelle."

THE STAR KING

73

"Can you find out definitely?"

The girl hesitated, examining Gersen's face. It was always wise
to refuse to answer questions whose motives she could not fathom;

still-where could be the harm? The man who inquired seemed
interesting: wistful and sad, so she thought, and a trifle mysterious;

and definitely not unattractive, in a hardbitten fashion. "I can ask
Mr. Detteras' secretary," she said brightly. "Will you wait?"

The screen dimmed, and a minute or two later brightened
again. The girl smiled back at Gersen, "I was right. Mr. Detteras,
Mr. Kelle, and Mr. Warweave-these are the only people who have
access to the decoding strip."

"I see. Mr. Detteras is Director of Exploration, Mr. Kelle is
Chairman of the Research Planning Committee, and Mr. War-
weave is-what?"

"Honorary Provost. They gave him the title when he endowed
the department with Grant 291. He's a very wealthy man, and very
interested in space exploration. He frequently goes Beyond. .. .
Have you ever been Beyond?"

"I've just returned."

She leaned forward, her face alive with interest. "Is it really as
wild and dangerous as everyone says?"

Gersen threw caution to the winds, with a bravado that startled
even himself. "Come out with me and see for yourself."

The girl did not appear unduly perturbed. But she shook her
head. "I'd be alarmed. I've been taught never to trust strange men
from the Beyond. You might be a slaver and sell me."

"Such things have happened," said Gersen dampened. "You're
probably safer where you are."

"Still," she said coquettishly, "who wants to be safe?"

Gersen hesitated, started to speak, stopped short. The girl
watched him with an expression of bland innocence. Well, why not?
he asked himself. His grandfather had been old and parched. . . .

"In that case-if you're willing to risk it-perhaps you'd spend
the evening with me."

"For what purpose?" The girl was suddenly demure. "Slavery?"

"No. Just-the usual. Whatever you'd like to do."

"This is very abrupt. After all, I haven't even seen you face to
face."

"Yes, you're right," said Gersen once more abashed. "I'm not
very gallant."

74

HIE DKMON PRINCES

"And still, what could be the harm? I'm impulsive myself, or
so I've been told."

"I suppose it depends on circumstances."

"You're just in from Beyond," the girl said magnanimously. "So
I guess you can be excused."

"Then you'll do it?"

She pretended to consider. "Very well. I'll take a chance.
Where will I meet you?"

"I'll be out at three o'clock to see Mr. Warweave; we can make
arrangements then."

"I'm off duty at four. . . . You're sure you're not a slaver?"

"I'm not even a pirate."

"Rather an unenterprising sort, I'd say. . . . But I'm just as
pleased, until I know you a little better."

A wide sandy beach extended a hundred miles south of Avente,
around the entire concavity of Ard Hook. As far as Remo, and a
few miles beyond, villas built of glaring white coquina lined the
crest of the sandy bluffs which overlooked the ocean.

Gersen hired a car, a small surface slider, and skidded south
over the broad white turnpike,, the inevitable dust puffing up behind
him. For a space the road followed the shore. Sand dazzled under
the brilliant Rigel light; blue water under a collar of white foam
sparkled and rolled calmly7 up and down the sand, creating a sound
invariable on every wwld in every galaxy where surf meets shore.
The road presently climbed the bluffs; to the left spread sand dunes
overgrown with black and purple iron bush, punctuated by tall
white balloon flower, the inflated pod floating at the end of a long
stem. Other white villas looked forth from groves of cool green
deodars, native feathertree, hybrid palm.

Ahead the ground rose, and the sandy bluffs became a range of
low hills, presenting a steep face to the ocean. Remo occupied the
flat land at the foot of one of these hills. A pair of piers terminating
in high-domed casinos reached forth to create a harbor filled with
small boats. The university occupied the crest of the hill: a series
of low, flat-rooted structures connected by arcades.

Gersen -arrived at the campus parking area, lowered the slide
car, alighted. A slideway took him through a commemorative arch
into a wide mall, where he inquired directions from a student.

THE STAR KING

75

"The College of Galactic Morphology? Into the next quad, sir;

the building at the far corner."

Ruefully pondering the respectful "sir" from a man no more
than seven years his junior, Gersen walked to the end of the mall,
threading a many-voiced, many-costumed multitude of students.
He crossed the quadrangle, approached the building at the far cor-
ner. At the portal he paused, aware of an emotion strangely like
diffidence, or shyness, which had gradually been asserting itself dur-
ing the entire trip out to the university. He jeered at himself. Was
he a schoolboy, that the prospect of an evening with a strange girl
should give him tremors? And more remarkable, the emotion
seemed to take precedence over the basic goal ot his existence! He
shrugged, irritated and amused together, then entered the foyer.

At a desk a girl looked up, with an uncertainty Gersen identified
as equivalent to his own. She was smaller and more slender than
he had thought her to be, but by no means less appealing. "Mr.
Gersen?"

Gersen put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It occurs
to me that I don't know your name."

She relaxed a trifle. "Pallis Atwrode."

"That takes care of the formalities," said Gersen. "I hope that
our arrangement is still working?"

She nodded. "Unless you've changed your mind."

"No."

"I act far bolder than I actually am," said Pallis Atwrode. She
gave an embarrassed laugh. "I've simply decided to ignore my up-
bringing. My mother is a blue-stocking. Perhaps it's time I began
to overcompensate."

"You begin to alarm me," said Gersen. "I'm not very bold ei-
ther, and if I have to cope with overcompensation-"

"Not really formidable overcompensation. 1 won't become in-
toxicated, or pick a fight, or-" She stopped.

"Or?"

"Oh-just -or.' "

Gersen looked at his watch. "I'd better see Mr. Warweave."

"His offices are down that corridor. And Mr. Gersen-"

Gersen looked down into the upturned face. "Yes?"

"Today I told you something which it seems I shouldn't have.
About the code. It's supposed to be secret. Would you please not
mention it to Mr. Warweave? I'd get in trouble."

76

^ HE DEMON PRINCES

"I'll say nothing about it "

"Thank you."

He turned, went off down the corridor she had indicated The
floor was resilient black and gray tesserae, the walls and ceiling were
plastered white, devoid of decoration or relief except for the various
doors and identificators-these in various muted tones of maroon,
mauve, dark green, indigo

Three doors along the corridor Gersen came upon a free-
floating identificator of luminous blue letters, which read. GYLE
WARWEAVE, and below PROVOST

He paused, struck by the incongruity of Malagate the Woe in
such surroundings. Was there a break in his chain of reasoning5
The monitor was coded, registered to the university Hildemar
Dasce, Malagate's lieutenant, had sought possession of the filament,
which was useless without the decoder. Gyle Warweave, Detteras
and Kelle were the three men who had access to the decoder, one
of the three must be Malagate. So then which, Warweave, Detteras
or Kelle3 Conjecture without facts was useless, he must deal with
events as they occurred He stepped forward, the door slipped aside,
quick as a camera shutter, the identificator broke into individual
letters which scattered like frightened fish, to regroup after he had
passed

In the outer office a tall thin middle-aged woman with keen
unsympathetic gray eyes stood listening to an obviously unhappy
young man, shaking her head slowly, continually, as he spoke

"I'm sorry," she said finally, m a clear brittle voice, "these ar-
rangements are all made on a formal basis of student achievement.
I can't allow you to bother the provost with your complaints "

"WTiat is he there for, then5" shouted the young man. "He had
open office hours, why can't he listen to my side of the story?"

The woman shook her head "I'm sorry." She turned away
"Are you Mr Gersen5" she asked
Gersen came forward.
"Mr Warweave is expecting you, please go through that door "

Gersen went as directed Gyle Warweave, sitting at a desk, rose
to his feet as Gersen entered a tall handsome man, strong and fit
looking, of an age not immediately obvious-perhaps ten or fifteen
years older than Gersen His hair was a cushion of black curls
shaped close to his skull, his skin dye a conservative pale umber
His face was emphatically marked, the eyes narrow, deep-set, black

THE STAR KING

77

and brooding, the nose and chin harsh He saluted Gersen with a
measured courtesy "Mr Gersen, sit down, if you will I'm glad to
make your acquaintance."

"Thank you " Gersen looked about him. The room was larger
than the usual office, the desk occupying an unconventional posi-
tion by the left of the door, with the greater part of room beyond
Tall windows at the right overlooked the quadrangle, the opposite
wall was papered with hundreds of maps Mercator pro)ections of
many worlds The center of the room was empty, giving it the
semblance of a conference chamber from which the table had been
removed. At the far end, on a pedestal of polished wood, stood a
construction of stone and metal spires, the provenance of which
Gersen was ignorant He seated himself, returned his attention to
the man behind the desk

Gyle Warweave hardly conformed to Gersen's picture of the
typical university administrator This of course would well be true,
thought Gersen, if Warweave were Malagate Contradicting the
evidence of his conservative skin dye, Warweave wore a rich bright-
blue suit with a white sash, white leather greaves, pale blue sandals
garments which might be affected by a young buck of the Sailmaker
Beach district, north of Avente.    Gersen groped at an elusive fa-
miliarity, a tantalizing wisp of recollection, which fled completely
from view.

Warweave inspected Gersen \uth a similar frank curiosity, in
which there was a trace of condescension Gersen definitely was no
dandy He wore the neutral garments of a person either uninter-
ested m current modes or unaware of them His skin was undyed
(walking along the streets of Avente, Gersen had felt almost un-
dressed), his thick dark hair was cropped into an undistinguished
ruff

Warweave waited with attentive politeness Gersen said, "I'm
here, Mr. Warweave, in connection with a rather complex matter
My motives are beside the point, so I'll ask you to listen without
troubling about them "

Warweave nodded "Rather difficult, but I'll try "
"First of all, are you acquainted with Mr Lugo Teehalt5"
"No, I am not " The answer \\as immediate and decisive
"May I ask who has the responsibility for the university's space
exploration program5"

78

THE DEMON PRINCES

Warweave considered. "Do you refer to major expeditions,

shotgun surveys, or what in particular?"

"Whatever program makes use of locators in leased boats."
"Hm," said Warweave. He turned a quizzical look toward

Gersen. "By any chance, are you a locater in search of a post? If

so-

Gersen smiled politely. "No, I'm not after a job."

Warweave smiled in his turn, a quick humorless grimace. "No,
of course not. I'm inept in my judgments. For instance, your voice
tells me very little. You're not a native of the Concourse. If you
were of a different physiognomy I'd place you from Mizar's Third."

"During most of my youth I lived on Earth."

"Indeed?" Warweave raised his eyebrows in manufactured
astonishment. "Out here, you know, we think ofEarthmen in terms
of stereotypes: cultists, mystics, hypercivilized eptcenes, sinister old
men in Institute black, decadent aristocrats.. .."

"I claim no particular niche," said Gersen. "Incidentally, you
puzzle me no less than I puzzle you."

Warweave put on an expression of rueful whimsey. "Very well,
Mr. Gersen. You were asking about our policy in connection with
locators. First of all, we cooperate with a number of other institu-
tions in the Master Space Exploration Program. Secondly, there is
a small fund which may be drawn upon to expedite some special
project."

"That is Beneficial Grant 291?"

Warweave inclined his head in curt assent.

"Very odd," said Gersen.

"Odd? How so?"

"Lugo Teehalt was a locater. The monitor in his boat was char-
tered to Sea Province University, under Grant 291."

Warweave pursed his lips. "It's quite possible that Mr. Teehalt
might be working for one of the department heads on some special
project."

"The monitor was coded. That should narrow the possibilities."

Warweave pierced Gersen with a hard glance of black eyes. "If
I knew what you wanted to learn, I could answer more to the
point."

There was nothing to lose by telling at least part of the truth,
thought Gersen. If Gyle Warweave were Malagate, he would know

THE STAR KING 79

what had happened. If he were not, no harm could be done. "The
name Attel Malagate is familiar to you?"

"Malagate the Woe? One of the so-called Demon Princes."

"Lugo Teehalt located a world of apparently idyllic condi-
tions-a world literally beyond value, more Earthlike than Earth.
Malagate learned of the discovery, how I don't know. In any event,
at least four ofMalagate's men hunted Teehalt to Smade's Tavern.

"Teehalt arrived )ust after I did. He landed in a hidden valley
and walked to the tavern. During the evening Malagate's men ar-
rived. Teehalt tried to escape, but they caught him in the dark,
killed him. Then they took off in my ship, apparently assuming that
it was Teehalt's. Both were the same, old Model 9B." Gersen
laughed. "When they checked my monitor they had a sorry sur-
prise.

"The next day I left in Teehalt's boat. Naturally I took pos-
session of his monitor. I plan to sell the filament for as much as
the market will bear."

Warweave nodded briskly, moved a sheet of paper on his desk
an inch to the right. Gersen watched him, studying the immaculate
hands, the glossy fingernails. Looking up, he caught the stare of
Warweave's gaze, less affable than his tone of voice. "And from
whom do you propose to collect?"

Gersen shrugged. "I'll give Teehalt's sponsor the first oppor-
tunity. As I mentioned, the filament is coded, and is valueless with-
out the decoding strip."

Warweave leaned back in his chair. "Offhand I don't know who
might have contracted with this man Teehalt. Whoever it is natu-
rally would not buy a pig in a poke."

"Naturally not." Gersen placed a photograph on the desk.
Warweave glanced at it, dropped it into a projection slot- A screen
on the far wall burst into color. Teehalt had taken the picture from
a rise of ground to one side of a valley. On either hand hills rolled
back, over, away and beyond-the rounded tips could be seen re-
ceding into the distance. Groves of tall dark trees stood to the side
of the valley; a river wandered through the meadows, the banks
lined with rushes. At the far side of the meadow, almost in the shade
of the forest, stood what appeared to be a bank of flowering shrubs.
The sun could not be seen, but the sunlight was golden-white,
warm, languid, and the time was evidently noon.

Warweave studied the picture at length, then made a gruff non-

80

THE DEMON PRINCES

committal sound. Gersen provided another photograph; the screen
shifted to display the view down the valley: the river meandering
and twisting, finally disappearing into the far distance. Trees stand-
ing tall at either side formed a sort of aisle, diminishing until all
faded into haze.

Warweave heaved a sigh. "Beyond question a beautiful world.
A hospitable world. What of atmosphere and biogens?"

"Completely compatible, according to Teehalt."

"If it is as you say-undiscovered, uninhabited-an indepen-
dent locater could name his own price. Still, not being born yes-
terday, I wonder, could not this photograph have been made
elsewhere? Even on Earth, where the vegetation is similar to this?"

For answer, Gersen brought forth a third photograph. War-
weave dropped it into the slot. The screen depicted, as if from a
distance of twenty feet, one of the objects which in the first pho-
tograph had appeared as a flowering shrub. It was revealed as a
perambulatory being, semihumanoid, graceful. Slender gray legs
supported a gray, silver, blue, green torso; purple-green eyes looked
forth from a perfect ovoid head, which was otherwise featureless.
From the shoulders, armlike members reached three feet into the
air, branching and webbing, to support the peacock's tail fan of

fronds.

"The creature, whatever it is-"

"Teehalt called it a dryad."

"-certainly it is unique. I've never seen its like before. If the
picture is not faked-and I do not believe that it is-then the planet
is what you claim it to be."

"I claim nothing. Teehalt made the claims. It is a world-so
he told me-so beautiful that he could neither bear to stay nor bear

to leave."

"And you have Teehalt's filament in your possession."
"Yes. I want to sell it. The market is presumably limited to
those persons who have access to the decoding strip. Of these, the
man who sponsored Lugo Teehalt's operation should have the first

option."

Warweave gave Gersen a long steady inspection. "A quixotic

attitude, which puzzles me. You do not seem a quixotic man."
"Why not Judge from deeds rather than impressions?"
Warweave merely raised his eyebrows in something like dis-
dain. Then he said, "Conceivably I could make you an offer for the

THE STAR KING

81

filament: say two thousand SVU now, another ten thousand after
inspection of the world. Possibly a trifle more."

"Naturally I will take the best price 1 can get," said Gersen.
"But I would like to interview Mr. Kelle and Mr. Detteras first.
One of them must be Teehalt's sponsor. If neither is interested in
the filament, then-"

Warweave interrupted sharply. "WTiy do you specify these two
men?"

"Other than yourself, they are the only persons who have access
to the decoding strips."

"May I ask how you are aware of this?"

Remembering Pallis Atwrode's request, Gersen felt a pang of
guilt. "I asked a young man in the quadrangle. Apparently it's com-
mon knowledge."

"Altogether too much loose talk," said Warweave, his mouth
in a hard angry line.

Gersen wanted to inquire how Warweave had spent the pre-
vious month, but the occasion was clearly inopportune. It could not
be a wise question, if posed directly: if Warweave were Malagate,
his suspicion would instantly be reinforced.

Warweave now tapped fingers on his desk, rose to his feet. "If
you will give me half an hour I will ask Mr. Detteras and Mr. Kelle
to step into my office, and you can make your inquiry. Will that
be satisfactory?"

"No."

"No?" barked Warweave. "Why not?"

Gersen also rose to his feet. "Since the matter does not concern
you, I would prefer to interview Mr. Kelle and Mr. Detteras alone,
on my own terms."

"This is at your option," said Warweave coldly. He considered
a moment. "WTiat you are after, I can't guess. I put little faith in
your candor. But I will make a bargain with you."

Gersen waited.

"Kelle and Detteras are busy men," said Warweave. "They are
not as accessible as I am. I will arrange that you see them at once-
today, if you like. Possibly one or the other will admit to an ar-
rangement with Lugo Teehalt. In any case, after your interview
with Kelle and Detteras, you will report to me what offers, if any,
they have made, and so give me the opportunity of meeting or
exceeding the offer."

82

THF DEMON PRINCES

"In other words," said Gersen, "you'd keep this world for your
private use5"

"Why not5 The filament is no longer the property of the uni-
versity You have taken possession of it And, if the truth be known,
my money has gone to endow Grant 291 "

"That's reasonable enough "

"You agree to my bargain, then7"

"Yes So long as you understand that the first refusal goes to
Teehalt's sponsor "

Warweave's eyelids drooped, he inspected Gersen with a rather
cynical twist of the lips "I wonder why you insist on this."

"Perhaps I am a quixotic man after all, Mr. Warweave "

War-weave swung about, spoke into the desk screen, listened,
turned back to Gersen "Very well. Mr Kelle will see you first,
then Mr. Detteras After that you will report back to me."

"I agree "

"Good You will find Kelle's office at the opposite end of the
building "

Gersen went out into the corridor past Warweave's glint-eyed
secretary, returned to the foyer Pallis Atwrode looked up with an
eager expectancy Gersen found very appealing "Did you learn what
you wanted to5"

"No. He's sending me to see Kelle and Detteras."

"Today5"

"Right now."

She looked at him with new interest "You'd be surprised at
the people both Mr Kelle and Mr Detteras have refused to see
today."

Gersen grinned. "I don't know how long I'll be .. If you're
off duty at four-"

"I'll wait," said Palhs Atwrode, and then she laughed "I mean,
you won't be very much longer than four, and I'd have to walk
home, and explain where I live-it's )ust easier waiting "

"I'll be as fast as I can," said Gersen.

Deeming the unsubstantiated dogma of a locali/ed religious
cult to be an undignified and unsuitable base on which to
erect the chronology of galactic man, the members of this
convention hereby declare that time shall now be reckoned
from the year 2000 A D (Old System), which becomes the
year 0 The revolution ofFarth about Sol remains the stan-
dard annual unit

Declaration at the Oikumemcal Convention for the
Standardization of Units and Meters

"Everything of which we are conscious   has for us a
deeper meaning still, a final meaning And the one and only
means ot rendering this incomprehensible comprehensible
must be a kind of metaphysics which regards everything
whatsoever as having significance as a symbol."

Oswald Speng-ler

"Who are our basic enemies^ This is a secret, unknown
even to those basic enemies "

Xaviar Skolcamp, Over-Centennul Fellon ot the
Institute, indulgently, in response to a )ournahst's too-
searching question

Kagge Kelle was a small, compact man with a large, solid, well-
arranged head His skin was only faintly dyed, to a waxv bisque
pallor, he wore a severe costume of dark brown and purple His
eyes were clear and remote, his nose short and blunt, his mouth
prim, held firmly as if in compensation for its overfullness

84

THE DEMON PRINCES

Kelle seemed to make a virtue of inscrutability. He greeted
Gersen with austere courtesy, listened to his story without com-
ment, saw the photographs without perceptible show of interest.
Choosing his words with care, he said, "I am sorry that I cannot
help you. I did not sponsor Mr. Teehalt's expedition. I know noth-
ing about this man."

"In that case, will you allow me the use of the decoding strip?"

Kelle sat motionless for a moment. Then he said in an even
voice, "Unfortunately, this is contrary to the rules of the depart-
ment. I would encounter not a little criticism. Still. .. ." He picked
up the photographs, examined them once more. "This is beyond
question a world of interesting characteristics. What is its name?"

"I don't have that information, Mr. Kelle."

"I cannot conceive why you seek Teehalt's sponsor. Are you a
representative of the IPCC?"

"I am a private individual, though naturally I can't demonstrate

this."

Kelle was skeptical. "Everyone works to his own interests. If I
understood what you were trying to achieve, I could possibly act
with more flexibility."

"That is more or less what Mr. Warweave told me," said Ger-
sen.

Kelle turned on him a sharp look. "Neither Warweave nor my-
self are what might be called innocent men." He thought for a
moment, then said grudgingly, "On behalf of the department, I can
go so far as to make you an offer for the filament-though, as you
tell the story, it actually is the property of the department to begin
with."

Gersen nodded in full agreement. "That is exactly the point I
am trying to establish. Does the filament actually belong to the
university, or can I feel free to do as I like with it? If I could find
Lugo Teehalt's sponsor-or determine whether the sponsor actu-
ally exists-then any number of new possibilities would appear."

Kelle was not to be moved by Gersen's ingenuousness. "It is
an extraordinary situation ... As I say, I might be able to make you
an attractive offer for the filament-even as a private party, if that
would expedite matters. Although I would naturally insist on a prior
inspection of the planet."

"You know my qualms in the matter, Mr. Kelle."

Kelle's response was only a small incredulous smile. Once more

THE STAR KING

85

he studied the photographs. "These-er, dryads, I must say they
are creatures of considerable interest. . . . Well, I can help you to
this extent. I will consult university records for information regard-
ing Lugo Teehalt. But in exchange, I would like you to assure me
an opportunity to consider the purchase of this world, in the event
that you do not find the so-called 'sponsor.' "

Gersen could not restrain a mild gibe. "You gave me to un-
derstand that you weren't particularly interested."

"Your assumptions are of no consequence," said Kelle evenly.
"This should not injure your sensibilities, for you clearly are not
concerned as to my opinion of you. You approach me as if I were
mentally deficient, with a tale which would not impress a child."

Gersen shrugged. "The 'tale,' as it stands, is substantially ac-
curate. Naturally I haven't told you everything I know."

Kelle smiled again, rather more generously. "Well, let's see
what the records have to tell us." He spoke into the microphone.
"Confidential Information. Authority of Kagge Kelle."

The nonhuman voice of the information bank responded.
"Confidential Information, ready."

"The file on Lugo Teehalt." He spelled out the name.

There was a series of subdued mutterings, a quiet eerie whis-
tling. The voice spoke once more, reading off the information it
had gathered. "Lugo Teehalt: his file. Contents: Application for
admission, verification and appended comment. April 3, 1480."

"Pass," said Kelle.

"Application for admission to advanced regimen, verification
and appended comment. July 2, 1485."

"Pass."

"Thesis for degree in College of Symbology: title: 'The Mean-
ingful Elements in the Eye Motion of the Tunkers of Mizar Six.'
December 20, 1489."

"Pass."

"Application for post as associate instructor, verification and
comment. March 15. 1490."

"Discharge of Lugo Teehalt, associate instructor, for conduct
prejudicial to morale of student corpus. October 19, 1492."

"Pass."

"Contract between Lugo Teehalt and Department of Galactic
Morphology, January 6, 1521."

86 THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen exhaled a small sigh at the relaxation of tension of
whose existence he had barely been aware. It was definite:

Lugo Teehalt had been employed as locater by someone within
the department.

"Quote in resume," Kelle ordered.

"Lugo Teehalt and Department of Galactic Morphology agree
and covenant to the following: Department will furnish Teehalt a
suitable space vessel, provisioned, equipped, found in typical and
useful manner, in order that Teehalt shall conduct, as agent of de-
partment, assiduous exploration of certain areas of galaxy. Depart-
ment advances Teehalt sum of five thousand SVU and guarantees
a bonus of graduated values for degrees of successful exploration.
Teehalt agrees to devote best efforts to successful pursuit of explo-
ration, to preserve results of said exploration secure and secret from
all persons, groups, and agencies other than those authorized by
Department. Signatures: Lugo Teehalt for Lugo Teehalt; Ominah
Bazerman for department.

"No further information."

"Mmf," said Kagge Kelle. He spoke to the screen. "Ominah
Bazerman."

A click, a voice spoke. "Ominah Bazerman, Chief Clerk."

"Kelle speaking. Two years ago a certain Lugo Teehalt was
despatched as a locater. You signed his contract. Do you remember
the circumstances?"

There was a moment's silence. "No, Mr. Kelle, I can't say that
I do. The contract probably came to me in a set of other papers."

"You don't remember who would have initiated this contract,
who sponsored this particular exploration?"

"No, sir. It must have been either yourself, or Mr. Detteras, or
perhaps Mr. Warweave. No one else would order out such an ex-
ploration."

"I see. Thank you." Kelle turned to Gersen, his eyes mild,
almost bovine. "And there you have it. If it wasn't Warweave, it
must be Detteras. As a matter of fact Detteras is former Dean of
the College of Symbology. Perhaps he and Teehalt were acquain-

^i

tances. ...

Rundle Detteras, Director of Exploration, seemed a man com-
pletely at his ease-at peace with himself, his job, the world at large.
When Gersen entered his office, Detteras held up his hand in easy

THE STAR KING

87

salute. He was a large man, surprisingly ugly for this age when a
pointed nose or an overloose mouth could be repaired in a matter
of hours. He had made no attempt to camouflage his ugliness; in-
deed, it seemed as if his rather harsh blue-green skin dye, almost
the color of verdigris, accentuated the coarseness of his features,
the rather gauche brusqueness of his motions. His head was the
shape of a gourd; the heavy chin rested on his breast with no per-
ceptible intervention of neck, the hair was a bristle dyed the color
of wet moss. From knee to shoulder he seemed of uniform thick-
ness, with a torso like a log. He wore the quasimilitary uniform of
a Baron of the Order of Archangels: black boots, loose scarlet
breeches, and a splendid blouse striped green, blue and scarlet, with
gold epaulettes and filigreed breast plates. Rundle Detteras was of
sufficient presence to command both the uniform and his odd phys-
iognomy; a man with the slightest dubiety or self-consciousness
would instantly have seemed eccentric.

"Well, well, Mr. Gersen," said Detteras, "is it too early for a
taste of arrack?"

"I'm out of bed."

Detteras stared in brief puzzlement, then laughed heartily. "Ex-
cellent! This is when I usually hoist the hospitality flag. Tint, tang,
or white?"

"White, please."

Detteras poured from the tall slender flask. He raised his glass:

"Detteras au pouvoir!" and drank with gusto. "First of the day, like
a visit home to mother." He poured himself a second tot, settled
back, turned upon Gersen a glance of leisurely appraisal, Gersen
asked himself, which one: Warweave? Kelle? Detteras? One of
these exteriors hid the ferocious soul of Attel Malagate the Woe.
Warweave? Kelle? Detteras? Gersen had inclined toward War-
weave; now he was once more dubious. Detteras had undeniable
force, a rude, harsh-textured energy, almost palpable.

Detteras apparently felt no urgency about coming to grips with
Gersen's business, for all the reputed press of his affairs. It was not
unlikely that he and Warweave had been in communication, and
possibly Kelle likewise. "A never-ending puzzle," said Detteras,
rather pompously. "The modes of why and how men differ."

If Detteras were in no hurry, thought Gersen, neither was he.
"No doubt you're right," he said, "although I don't understand the
immediate relevance."

88

THE DEMON PRINCES

Detteras laughed; a heavy booming sound. "Quite as it should
be; I would be surprised if you professed otherwise." He held up
his hand to forestall Gersen's response. "Presumption on my part?
No. Hear me out. You are a somber man, a pragmatic man. You
carry a heavy load of secrets and dark resolves."

Gersen sipped suspiciously at the arrack. The verbal pyrotech-
nics might be intended as a distraction, a device to diminish his
wariness. He concentrated on the arrack, senses keen for the
faintest off flavor. Detteras had poured both drinks from the same
flask; he had offered Gersen a choice of three distillations; he had
taken up glasses without seeming calculation. There existed, none-
theless, enormous scope for ruse, which no normal vigilance could
prevent. . . . The drink was innocent, so Gersen's tongue and nasal
passages, trained on Sarkovy, assured him. He focused his attention
upon Detteras and the previous remark.

"Your opinions regarding me are exaggerated."
Detteras grinned, a great gap-lipped grimace. "But nevertheless
essentially accurate?"
"Possibly."

Detteras nodded complacently, as if Gersen had given him the
most emphatic of corroborations. "It is a skill, or habit of obser-
vation, born of long years of study. I formerly specialized in Sym-
bology, until I decided that I'd cropped the pasture as short as my
teeth were long, and as far as my tether would reach. So here I am
in Galactic Morphology. A less complicated field, descriptive rather
than analytic, objective rather than humanistic. Still, I occasionally
find application for my previous field. Now is a case in point. You
come into my office, an utter stranger. I assess your overt symbolic
presentation: skin color; shape, condition, color of your hair; fea-
tures, clothes, your general style. You will say, this is common prac-
tice. I reply, true. Everyone eats, but a skilled taster is rare. I read
these symbols with minute exactitude, and they provide me with
information about your personality. I, on the other hand, deny sim-
ilar knowledge to you. How? I bedizen myself with random and
contradictory symbols, I am in constant camouflage, behind which
the real Rundle Detteras watches, as calm and cool as an impresario
at the hundredth performance of a glittering carnival extravaganza."

Gersen smiled. "My nature might be as flamboyant as your
symbols, and I might dissemble it for reasons similar to your own-
whatever they are. A second point: your presentation, if it can be

THE STAR KING

89

believed, illuminated you almost as clearly as the set of your natural
symbols. Third-why bother in the first place?"

Detteras seemed much amused. "Aha! You show me for the
fraud and charlatan I am! Still, I cannot avoid the conviction that
your symbols tell me more about you than mine do about me."

Gersen leaned back in his seat. "To little practical effect."

"Not so fast," exclaimed Detteras. "You occupy yourself exclu-
sively with positivity! Consider negativity for a moment. Some peo-
ple fret regarding the cryptic mannerisms of their colleagues. You
protest that the symbols tell you nothing of importance; you dismiss
them. These others worry because they cannot integrate a prolif-
eration of information." Gersen started to demur; Detteras held up
his hand. "Consider the Tunkers ofMizar Six. You are acquainted
with them? A religious sect."

"I heard them mentioned a few minutes ago."

"As I say," Detteras continued, "they are a religious group:

ascetic, austere, devout to an astonishing extreme. The men and
women dress identically, shave their heads, use-a language of eight
hundred and twelve words, eat identical meals at identical hours-
all this to protect themselves from the perplexity of wondering
about each other's motivations. True. This is the basic purpose of
the Tunker mode. And not too far from Mizar is Sirene, where for
a similar reason men wear highly conventionalized masks, from
birth to death. Their faces are their dearest secrets." He proffered
the arrack flask. Gersen held out his glass.

Detteras continued. "The practice here on Alphanor is more
complicated. We gird ourselves for offense and defense, or sheer
playfulness, with a thousand ambiguous symbols. The business of
living is enormously complicated; artificial tensions are established;

uncertainty and suspicion become normality."

"And in the process," suggested Gersen, "sensitivities are de-
veloped unknown to either the Tunkers or the Sirenese."

Detteras held up his hand. "Again, not so fast. I know a great
deal about both these peoples; insensitivity is a word which cannot
be applied to either. The Sirenese will detect the most remote nu-
ance of uneasiness when a man masks himself above his status. And ,
the Tunkers-I know less of them, but I believe that their personal
differentiations are as refined and varied as our own, if not more
so. I quote an analogous esthetic doctrine: the tighter the discipline
of an art form, the more subjective the criteria of taste. In another

90 THF- DEMON PRINCES

category, becoming ever more didactic, consider the Star Kings-
nonmen driven by their psyches to literally superhuman excellences.
They must enter the field cold, as it were, without even the human
racial unconscious as a matrix for their symbolic education. Re-
turning to Alphanor, it must be remembered that the folk thrust an
enormous amount of perfectly valid information at each other, as
well as ambiguities."

"Confusing," said Gersen dryly, "if one allows himself to be
distracted."

Detteras laughed quietly, evidently well pleased with himself.
"You've led a different life than I have, Mr. Gersen. On Alphanor
the issues aren't life and death; everyone is fairly sophisticated. It's
easier than not to accept people at their own valuation. Indeed, it's
often impractical not to do so." He looked sidelong at Gersen.
"Why do you smile?"

"It dawns upon me that the dossier on Kirth Gersen, requested
from the IPCC, is slow in arriving. In the meantime, you find it
impractical to accept me at my own valuation. Or even your own."

Detteras laughed in his turn. "You do both me and the IPCC
an injustice. The dossier came promptly, several minutes before
your arrival." He pointed to a photostat sheet on his desk. "I or-
dered the dossier, incidentally, in my role as a responsible officer
of the Institution. I think I can make a case for my caution."

"What did you learn?" asked Gersen. "I haven't seen the dos-
sier recently."

"It's marvelously blank." He picked up the paper. "You were
born in 1490: where? Not on one of the major worlds. At the age
of ten you registered into Galileo Spaceport on Earth, in the com-
pany of your grandfather, whose antecedents perhaps we should
likewise check. You attended the usual schools, were accepted by
the Institute as a catechumen, reached the eleventh phase at the
age of twenty-four (quite respectable progress), when you withdrew.
From now on there is no record, suggesting that either you re-
mained permanently on Earth, or departed illegally, without reg-
istration. Since you now sit before me, the latter seems to have
been the case. Remarkable," said Detteras, "that a person could live
to your age in a society as complex as the Oikumene with no small
impingement upon the official record! Long years of silence while
you were occupied where? How? To what purpose, and to what
effect?" He glanced questioningly at Gersen.

THE STAR KING 91

"If it's not there," said Gersen, "I don't want it there."

"Naturally. There is very little more." He tossed down the dos-
sier. "Now you are anxious to make your inquiries. I will anticipate
you. I knew Lugo Teehalt, far back indeed, in my undergraduate
days. He involved himself in some sort of unsavory mess and
dropped from sight. A year or so ago he came to me, asking for a
locator's contract."

Gersen stared at him, fascinated. So here was Malagate! "And
you sent him out?"

"I chose not to do so. I did not want him dependent upon me
for the rest of his life. I was willing to help him, but not on a
personal basis. I told him to apply either to the Honorary Provost,
Gyle War-weave, or the Chairman of the Research Planning Com-
mittee, Kagge Kelle; to mention my name, that very likely they
could assist him. This was the last I heard of him."

Gersen took a deep breath. Detteras spoke with the assurance
of truth. But which of them had not? Detteras at least had con-
firmed that one of the three-either himself, Warweave or Kelle-
was lying.

Which?

Today he had seen Artel Malagate, looked into his eyes, listened
to his voice. .. . He was suddenly uneasy. WTly was Deterras so
relaxed? Presumably a busy man, how could he spare so much time?
Gersen abruptly sat up in his chair. "I will get to the point of my
call upon you." He told the story he had already related to War-
weave and Kelle, while Detteras listened with a faint smile playing
over his coarse mouth. Gersen displayed the photographs and Det-
teras looked at them negligently.

"A beautiful world," said Detteras. "If I were wealthy I would
ask you to sell it to me to be my personal estate. I am not wealthy.
On the contrary. In any event, you seem not so much anxious to
sell your rights to this world as you do to locate poor old Teehalt's
sponsor."

Gersen was somewhat taken aback. "I'll sell to the sponsor for
a reasonable price."

Detteras smiled skeptically. "Sorry. I can't admit to a falsehood.
W^arweave or Kelle is your man."

"They deny it."

"Strange. So then?"

92

THE DEMON PRINCES

"The filament is useless to me in its present condition. Will
you furnish me the decoding strip?"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"I thought as much. So I must sell to one or the other of you,

or to the university. Or destroy the filament."

"Hm." Detteras judiciously nodded his head. "This demands
careful thought. If your demands were not excessive, I'd be inter-
ested. ... Or perhaps the three of us, in concert, could come to
some agreement with you. Hm. . . . Let me speak to Warweave and
Kelle. And then, if you can, come back tomorrow, say at ten. I
might have a definite proposition to put before you."

Gersen rose to his feet. "Very well. Tomorrow at ten."

"Yes, we are a reactionary, secretive, pessimistic organiza-
tion. We have agents everywhere. We know a thousand
tricks to discourage research, sabotage experiments, distort
data. Even in the Institute's own laboratories we proceed
with deliberation and discretion.

"But now let me answer some of the questions and ac-
cusations we often Jiear. Do the members of the Institute
enjoy wealth, privilege, power, freedom from the law? Hon-
esty compels the answer: Yes, in varying degree, depending
upon phase, achievement.

"Then the Institute is an inbred, restricted, centripetal
group? By no means. We consider ourselves an intellectual
elite, certainly. Why should we not? Membership is open
to anyone, although few of our catechumens achieve even
so far as the fifth phase.

"Our policy? Simple enough. Space drive has given a
terrible weapon to any megalomaniacs who happen to occur
in our midst. There is other knowledge which, if equally
free, could ensure them tyrannical power. We therefore
control the dissemination of knowledge.

"We are scathed as 'self-anointed divinities'; we are ac-
cused of pedantry, conspiracy, condescension, smugness, ar-
rogance, obstinate self-righteousness; these are the mildest
of the objurgations we hear. We are accused of intolerable
paternalism, and in the same breath reproached for disen-
gagement from ordinary human affairs. \Vhy do we not use
our lore to lighten toil, alleviate pain, prolong life? WTiy do

94

THP DEMON PRINCES

we stand aloof3 Why do we not transform the human estate
into a Utopia a task well within our power3

tk the answer is simple-perhaps deceptively so We
feel these are false boons, that peace and satiety are akin to
death For all its rawness and cruel excess, we envy archaic
humanity its ardent experience We hold that gain after toil,
triumph after adversity, achievement to a goal long sought,
is a greater beneficence than prebendary nutrient from the
teat of an indulgent government "

From the television address by Madian Carbuke,

Centennial (Hundredth Phase Fellow) of the Institute,

December 2, 1502

Conversation between two Centennials of the Institute,
in connection with a third not present

-"I would gladly come to your house for a chat, if I
did not suspect that Ramus were likewise invited "

-"But what is so wrong with Ramus3 He often amuses

me

-"He is a fungus, a flatulence, a pompous old toad,
and he irritates me vastly "

Question occasionally put to Fellows of the Institute:

Are Star Kings included among the fellowship3
The customary answer We certainly hope not

Motto of the Institute A little knowledge if a dangerous
thing, a great deal of knowledge is disaster, which detractors
of the Institute scornfully paraphrase to- Somebody else's ig-
norame is hlivs

Pallis Atwrode lived with two other girls in a seaside apartment
tower to the south of Remo. Gersen waited in the lobby while she
ran up to change clothes and retint her skin

He went out on the deck overlooking the ocean, leaned against
the rail Great blazing Rigel hung low over the ocean, laying a
molten road from shore to horizon Near at hand in the harbor,
enclosed by twin piers, a hundred boats were moored power yachts,
sailing catamarans, glass-hulled submarines, a shoal of jet-powered

THE STAR KI\G

95

aquaplanes, to be ridden at maniacal speed over, through, and
across the waves

Gersen's mood was complex, and puzzled even himself There
was the heart-bumping anticipation of an evening with a pretty girl,
a sensation he had not known for years There was the melancholy
normally induced by sunset-and now the sunset was beautiful in-
deed, the sky glowed mauve and green-blue around a green bank
of persimmon-orange clouds stranded with magenta. It was not the
beauty which brought on melancholy, mused Gersen, but rather
the quiet halcyon light and its fading    And there was another
melancholy-different yet somehow similar-which came to Ger-
sen as he watched the debonair folk about him They were all
graceful and easy, untouched by the toil and pain and terror that
existed on remote worlds Gersen envied them their detachment,
their social skills. Still, would he change places with any of them3
Hardly.

Pallis Atwrode came to )om him by the rail. She had tinted
herself a beautiful soft olive-green, with a subtle patina of gold, she
now wore her hair in a loose dark curly cap She laughed at Ger-
sen's obvious approval

"I feel like a wharf rat," said Gersen "I should have changed
into new clothes."

"Please don't worry," she said "It's completely unimportant.
Now What shall we do3"                    '

"You'll have to make suggestions "

"Very we\\ Let's go into Avente and sit on the esplanade I
never tire of watching people walk past Then we can decide what's
next "

Gersen acceded; they walked to the slide car and drove north,
Paths chattering with ingenuous candor about herself, her job, her
opinions, plans and hopes She was, so Gersen learned, a native of
Singhal Island, on the planet Ys Her parents were prosperous,
owning the only cold-storage warehouse of the Lantango Peninsula
WTien they retired to the Palmetto Islands, her oldest brother took
control of the warehouse and likewise the family home The brother
next older had wished to marry her, this form of union being coun-
tenanced on Ys, which had been settled originally by a group of
Reformed Rationalists The brother was stout, red-faced, arrogant,
without a trade other than driving the warehouse van, and the pros-
pect held no charm for Pallis

96

THE DF.MON PRINCES

At this point Pallis hesitated and her candor seemed to slip
gears, for she changed the subject. Gersen guessed at the dramatic
confrontations, fierce reproaches and countering accusations which
had taken place. Pallis had now lived in Avente for two years and,
though sometimes homesick for the sights and sounds of Ys, she
felt herself happy and lucky. Gersen, who had never known anyone

so artless, was charmed by her talk.

They parked the slider, walked out along the esplanade, selected
a table in front of one of the numerous cafes, and sat watching the
crowds stroll by. Beyond spread the dark ocean, with the sky now
plum and indigo-gray, with only the faintest tinge of lemon to mark

the passage of Rigel.

The night was warm; folk from all the worlds of the Oikumene
sauntered past. The waiter brought goblets of punch. Gersen sipped
and his tensions began to relax. Neither spoke for a period; then
Pallis suddenly turned to face him. "You're so silent, so guarded;

is it because you're in from Beyond?"

Gersen had no ready reply. Finally he gave a rueful laugh. "I
hoped you'd think me easy and suave, like everyone else. . . ."

"Oh come now," said Pallis teasingly. "Nobody's like everyone

else."

"I'm not altogether sure," said Gersen. "I suppose it's a matter

of relativity: how near you are. Even bacteria have individuality, if

they're examined closely enough."

"So now I'm a bacterium," said Pallis.

"Well, I'm another, and I'm probably boring you."

"No, no! Of course not! I'm enjoying myself."

"So am I. Too much. It's-enervating."

Pallis scented a compliment. "How do you mean?"

"I can't allow myself the luxury of emotional commitments-

even if I should like to."

"You're much, much, much too sober for a young man."

"I'm not young anymore."

She made a gay gesture. "But you admit you're sober!"
"I suppose so. But be careful, don't push me too far."
"A woman likes to think herself a temptress."
Again Gersen had no response. He studied Pallis across the
table; for the moment she seemed content to watch the passersby.
What a gay, warm-hearted creature, he thought, without a trace of
malice or acerbity.

THE STAR KING

97

Pallis turned her attention back to him. "You're really such a
quiet man," she told him. "Everyone else I know refuses to stop
talking, and I listen to continual floods of nonsense. I'm sure you
know hundreds of interesting things, and you refuse to tell me any
of them."

Gersen grinned. "They're probably less interesting than you
think."

"Still, I'd like to make sure. So tell me about the Beyond. Is
life really so dangerous?"

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends on whom you meet,
and why."

"But-perhaps you'd rather I didn't ask-what do you do?
You're not a pirate or a slaver?"

"Do I look like a pirate? Or a slaver?"

"You know that I don't know what a pirate or a slaver look
like! But I'm curious. Are you a-well, criminal? Not that it's nec-
essarily a disgrace," she added hastily. "Affairs which are perfectly
acceptable on one planet are absolutely taboo'on another. For in-
stance, I told one of my friends that all my life I'd planned to marry
my oldest brother-and her hair uncurled!"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Gersen, "but I'm not a crim-
inal. ... I don't fit into any category." He considered. There could
be no indiscretion in telling her what he had told Warweave, Kelle
and Detteras. "I've come to Avente for a particular purpose, natu-
rally-"

"Let's have dinner," said Pallis, "and you can tell me while we
eat."

"Where shall we go?"

"There's an exciting new restaurant, only just opened. Every-
one's talking about it and I've never been there." She jumped to
her feet, took his hand with an easy intimacy, pulled him upright.
He caught her under the arms, bent forward, but his daring waned;

he laughed and released her. She said archly, "You're more impul-
sive than you look."

Gersen grinned, half shamefacedly. "Well, where is the exciting
new restaurant?"

"Not far. We can walk. It's rather expensive, but I plan to pay
half the account."

"That's not necessary," said Gersen. "Money is no particular

98

TI IF, DEMON PRINCES

problem to a pirate. If I run short, I'll rob someone. You, per-
haps. . .."

"It's hardly worth the trouble. Come along, then." She took

his hand, and they walked north along the esplanade like any of the
thousand other couples abroad this fine Alphanor evening.

She led him to a kiosk circled by large luminous green letters
reading NAUTILUS. An escalator dropped them two hundred feet
into a tall octagonal lobby paneled with rattan screens. A major-
domo escorted them along a glass-vaulted tunnel, out upon the
floor of the sea. Dining rooms of various sizes opened off the pas-
sage, into one of which they were conducted, and seated at a table
close beside the sloping glass dome. The sea lay beyond, with bea-
cons illuminating the sand, rocks, seaweed, coral, the passing sub-
marine creatures.

"Now," said Pallis, leaning forward, "tell me about the Beyond.

And don't worry about alarming me, because I love an occasional

shudder. Or better, tell me about yourself."

"Smade's Tavern on Smade's Planet is a good place to start,"

said Gersen. "You've been there?"

"Of course not. But I've heard it mentioned."
"It's a small, barely habitable planet out in the middle of no-
where; all mountains, wind, thunderstorms, an ocean black as ink.
The tavern is the only building on the planet. Sometimes it's
crowded, sometimes there'll be no one but Smade and his family
for weeks on end. When I arrived the only other guest was a Star

King."

"A Star King? I thought they were always disguised as men."

"It's not a matter of disguise," said Gersen. "They are men.

Almost."

'T never have understood about the Star Kings. Just what are

they?"

Gersen shrugged. "You'll get a different answer every time you

ask. The general speculation goes like this. A million years ago,
more or less, the planet Lambda Grus III, or 'Ghnarumen'-you
have to cough through your nose to get it even approximately
right-was inhabited by a rather frightening assortment of crea-
tures. Among them was a small amphibious biped without any
particular tools for survival except awareness and an ability to hide
in the mud. He probably looked a little like a lizard, or a hairless
seal. . . . The species faced extinction half a dozen times, but a few

THE STAR KING

99

always managed to hang on, and somehow scavenge an existence
among creatures who were more savage, more cunning, more agile,
better swimmers, better climbers, even better scavengers than
themselves. The proto-Star Kings had only physical advantages:

self-consciousness, competitiveness, a desire to stay alive by any
means whatever."

"They sound rather like the proto-humans on ancient Earth,"
said Pallis.

"No one knows for sure: at least no men. What the Star Kings
know they're not telling. .. . These bipeds differed from proto-man
in several respects: first, they are biologically much more flexible,
able to transmit acquired characteristics. Second, they are not bi-
sexual. There is cross-fertilization by means of spores emitted on
the breath, but each individual is male and female at once, and the
young develop as pods in the armpits. Perhaps from this lack of
sexual differentiation the Star Kings have no natural physical vanity.
Their basic drive is the urge to outdo, to outfunction, to outsurvive.
The biological flexibility coupled to a rudimentary intelligence pro-
vided the means to implement their ambitions; they consciously
began to breed themselves into a creature which could outperform
their less resourceful competitors.

"This is all speculation, of course, and what follows is specu-
lation on an even more tenuous basis. But just let's assume that
some race able to traverse space visited Earth. It might have been
the people which left ruins on the Fomalhaut planets, or the Hex-
adelts, or whoever carved Monument Cliff on Xi Puppis X.

"We assume that such a space-traveling people came by Earth
a hundred thousand years ago. Assume that they captured a tribe
of Mousterian Neanderthals, and for some reason conveyed them
to Ghnarumen, world of the proto-Star Kings. Here is a challeng-
ing situation for both parties. The men are far more dangerous
opponents to the Star Kings than the now-defeated natural ene-
mies. The men are intelligent, patient, crafty, ruthless, aggressive.
Under pressure of the environment the men themselves evolve into
a different type: more agile, faster of body and mind than their
Neanderthal predecessors.

"The proto-Star Kings suffer setbacks, but they have their
hereditary patience, as well as important weapons: the competitive
urge, the biological flexibility. Men have proved superior to them-

100

THE. DEMON PRINCES

selves; to compete with men they shape themselves into human

semblance.

"The war continues, and the Star Kings admit, very guardedly,

that certain of their myths describe these wars.

"Another assumption now becomes necessary. About fifty thou-
sand years ago the space travelers return, and convey the evolved
Earthmen back to Earth, and perhaps a few Star Kings: who knows?
And so the Cro-Magnons appear in Europe.

"On their own planet the Star Kings are at last more manlike
than men, and prevail: the true men are destroyed, the Star Kings
are supreme and remain so until five hundred years ago. The men
of Earth discover the intersplit. When they chance upon 'Ghna-
rumen' they are astonished to find creatures exactly resembling
themselves: the Star Kings."

"It sounds far-fetched," said Pallis dubiously.
"Not as far-fetched as convergent evolution. It is a fact that
Star Kings exist: a race not antagonistic, but not friendly either.
Men are not allowed to visit 'Ghnarumen'-or however the name
is pronounced. The Star Kings tell us only as much about them-
selves as they care to, and they send observers-spies, if you like-
everywhere throughout the Oikumene. There are probably a dozen
Star Kings in Avente right now."

Pallis grimaced. "How can you tell them from men?"
"Sometimes even a doctor can't, after they finish disguising and
faking themselves. There are differences, of course. They have no
genital organs; their pubic region is blank. Their protoplasm, blood,
hormones have a different composition. Their breath has a distinc-
tive odor. But the spies, or whatever they are, are altered so that
even an X-ray shows the same as that of a man."

"How did you know the-the creature at Smade's Tavern was

a Star King?" '

"Smade told me."

"How did Smade know?"

Gersen shook his head. "I never thought to ask."

He sat silent, preoccupied with a new notion. There had been
three guests at Smade's Tavern: himself, Teehalt, and the Star
King. IfTristano were to he believed-and why not?-he had ar-
rived in company only with Dasce and Suthiro. If Uasce's statement
to Teehalt were to be credited, Attel Malagate must be reckoned

THE STAR KING 101

Teehalt's murderer. Gersen had certainly heard Teehak's scream
while Suthiro, Dasce and Tristano stood within his range of vision.

Unless Smade were Malagate, unless another ship had surrep-
titiously arrived-which were both unlikely-then Malagate and
the Star King must be one. Thinking back, Gersen recalled that
the Star King had left the dining hall in ample time to allow a
conference outside with Dasce. . . .

Pallis Atwrode lightly touched his cheek. "You were telling me
of Smade's Tavern."

"Yes," said Gersen. "So I was." He looked at her speculatively.
She must certainly know a great deal about the comings and goings
of Warweave, Kelle and Detteras. Pallis, misunderstanding the na-
ture of his gaze, flushed prettily under her pale-green skin toning.
Gersen laughed uneasily. "Back to Smade's Tavern." He described
the events of the evening.

Pallis listened with interest, almost forgetting to eat. "So now
you have Lugo Teehalt's filament and the university has the de-
coder."

"Correct. And neither one is valuable without the other."

They finished dinner; Gersen, with no credit account on Al-
phanor, paid the bill in cash. They returned to the surface. "Now
what would you like?"

"I don't care," said Pallis. "Let's go back along the esplanade
to a table, for a while, anyway."

The night was now dark: the moonless black-velvet night of
Alphanor. The facade of every building at the back of the esplanade
glowed faintly, blue or green or pink; the pavement gave off a silver
effulgence; the balustrade emitted a pleasant, almost unseen amber-
beige radiance; everywhere was soft shadowless light, rich with
muted ghost color. Up in the dark sky stars floated, big, vague,
pale. A waiter brought coffee and liqueur; they settled back to watch
the passing crowds.

Pallis said in a reflective voice, "You're not telling me every-
thing."

"Of course not," said Gersen. "In fact. .. ." He paused, grap-
pling with a disturbing new thought. Attel Malagate might mistake
the nature of his interest in Pallis-especially if Malagate were a
Star King, sexless, unable to understand the male-female relation-
ship. "In fact," said Gersen in a bleak voice, "I really have no right
involving you in my troubles."

102

THE DEMON PRINCES

"I don't feel involved," said Pallis, stretching her arms lazily.
"And if I were, what of it? This is Avente on Alphanor, a civilized
city on a civilized planet."

Gersen gave a sardonic chuckle. "I told you that others were
interested in my planet. Well-these others are pirates and slavers
as depraved as your romantic heart could desire. . .. Have you ever
heard ofAttel Malagate?"

"Malagate the Woe? Yes."

Gersen resisted the temptation of telling her that she took mes-
sages and ran errands daily for Malagate. "It's almost certain," he
said, "that stick-tights are watching us. Now. This very minute. And
the other end of the circuit is possibly Malagate himself."

Pallis moved uneasily, scanned the sky. "Do you mean that
Malagate is watching me? That's a creepy feeling."

Gersen looked to right, to left, then stared. Two tables away
sat Suthiro, the Sarkoy venefice. Gersen felt a sinking at the pit of
his stomach. Meeting Gersen's eye, Suthiro nodded politely, smiled.
He rose to his feet, sauntered to the table.

"Good evening, Mr. Gersen."

"Good evening," said Gersen.

"May I join you?"

"I'd prefer not."

Suthiro laughed softly, seated himself, inclined his fox face to-
ward Pallis. "And this young lady-do you plan to introduce me?"

"You already know who she is."

"But she does not know me."

Gersen turned to Pallis. "Here you see Scop Suthiro, Master
Venence of Sarkovy. You expressed an interest in evil men; here
you have as completely evil a man as you're likely to meet."

Suthiro laughed in easy glee. "Mr. Gersen judiciously uses the
word 'likely.' Certain of my friends surpass me as grandly as I sur-
pass you. I hope indeed that you do not meet them. Hildemar
Dasce, for instance, who boasts of his ability to paralyze dogs with
a glance."

Pallis' voice was troubled: "I'd just as soon not meet him." She
stared at Suthiro in fascination. "You really-admit that you're
evil?"

Suthiro laughed once more, a subtle muffled sound. "I am a
man; I am a Sarkoy."

Gersen said, "I've just been describing our encounter at

THE STAR KING

103

Smade's Tavern to Miss Atwrode. Tell me something: Who killed

Lugo Teehalt?"

Suthiro seemed surprised. "Who else but Malagate? We three

sat within. Does it make any difference? It might as easily have

been myself or Beauty or Tristano. .. . Tristano, by the way, is

quite ill. He suffered a dreadful accident, but hopes to see you on

his recovery."

"He can consider himself lucky," said Gersen.
"He is ashamed," said Suthiro. "He thinks himself skillful. I

have told him he is not so skillful as I. Now perhaps he will believe

it.

"Speaking of skill," said Gersen, "can you do the paper trick?"

Suthiro cocked his head sidewise. "Yes, of course. Where did
you learn of the paper trick?"

"At Kalvaing."

"And what wrought you at Kalvaing?"

"A visit with Coudirou the venefice."

Suthiro pursed his heavy red lips. He wore a yellow skin tone;

his brown pelt was glossy and smooth with oil. "Coudirou is as wise
as any-but as for the paper trick. ..." Gersen handed him a nap-
kin. Suthiro suspended it from left thumb and forefinger, stroked
it lightly with his right hand. It fell to the table in five ribbons.

"Well done," said Gersen, and to Pallis: "His fingernails are
hardened, sharp as razors. Naturally he would waste no poison on
the paper, but each of his fingers is like the head of a serpent."

Suthiro made complacent acquiescence.

Gersen turned back to him. "WTiere is your friend Fancy
Dasce?"

"Not too far distant."

"Red face and all?"

Suthiro shook his head sadly at Dasce's poor taste in skin ton-
ing. "A very able, a very strange man. Have you ever wondered
about his face?"

"WTien I could bear to look at it."

"You are not my friend, you tricked me beautifully; neverthe-
less, I will warn you: never cross Fancy Dasce. Twenty years ago
he was thwarted in some small escapade. It was a matter of col-
lecting money from an obstinate man. Hildemar by chance found
himself at a disadvantage. He was knocked down and strapped hand
and foot. So his creditor had the poor taste to cleave poor Hilde-

104

THE DEMON PRINCES

mar's nose, and cut off his eyelids. . . . Hildemar eventually escaped
and now is known as Beauty- Dasce, or Fancy Dasce."

"How awful," muttered Pallis.

"Exactly." Suthiro's voice became contemptuous. "A year later
Hildemar allowed himself the luxury of capturing this man. He
conveyed him to a private place, where he lives to this day. And
occasionally Hildemar, remembering the outrage which cost him
his features, returns to this private place to remonstrate with the

man."

Pallis turned glazed eyes at Gersen. "These people are your

friends?"

"No. We are associated only through Lugo Teehalt." Suthiro

was looking along the esplanade. Gersen asked idly, "You and
Dasce and Tristano work together and train together as a team?"
"Often, though I for one prefer a singular scope."
"And Lugo Teehalt had the misfortune to blunder upon you at

Brinktown."

"He died quickly. Godogma takes all men. Is this misfortune?"

"One never likes to hasten Godogma."

"True." Suthiro inspected his strong agile hands. "Agreed." He
looked toward Pallis. "On Sarkovy we have a thousand popular
aphorisms to this effect."

"Who is Godogma?"

"The Great God of Destiny, who carries a flower and a flail,

and walks on wheels."

Gersen put on an air of studious concentration. "I will ask you
a question. You need not answer; in fact perhaps you do not know.
But I am puzzled: Why should Malagate, a Star King, so vehe-
mently desire this particular world?"

Suthiro shrugged. "That is a matter with which I have never
concerned myself. Apparently the world is valuable. I am paid. I kill
only when I must or when it profits me-so you see," he told Pallis
parenthetically, "I am not really so evil a man, am I now? Presently
I will return to Sarkovy and live out my days roaming the Goro-
bundur Steppe. Ah, now! There is the life! When I think of those
times to come, 1 wonder why I sit here now, beside this odious
wetness." He grimaced toward the sea, and rose to his feet. "It is
a presumption to advise you, but why not be sensible? You can
never defeat Malagate; therefore relinquish the filament."

Gersen thought for a moment, then said, "I will also presume,

THE STAR KING 105

in the same spirit which prompts you. My advice is this: Kill Hil-
demar Dasce the next moment you see him, or even before."

Suthiro knit his furry brown eyebrows in puzzlement, glanced
for the most fleeting instant upward.

Gersen continued. "There is a stick-tight watching us, although
I have not located it. Its microphone probably registers our con-
versation. Until you told me, I had no idea that the Star King at
Smade's Tavern was Malagate. I am interested. I do not think this
is common knowledge."

"Quiet!" hissed Suthiro, eyes blazing with sudden red wrath.

Gersen lowered his voice. "Hildemar Dasce quite possibly will
be asked to punish you. If you wish to forestall Godogma, if you
wish to take your wagon across Gorobundur Steppe-kill Dasce
and go."

Suthiro hissed something below his breath, jerked up his hand
as if to throw, then backed away, turned, melted into the crowd.

Pallis relaxed, slumped into her chair. In an uncertain voice she
said, "I'm not as adventurous as I supposed myself."

"I'm sorry," said Gersen, genuinely contrite. "I should never
have asked you out."

"No, no. I just can't accustom myself to that kind of talk, here
on the esplanade, in peaceful Avente. But I suppose I'm actually
enjoying it. If you're not a criminal, who or what are you?"

"Kirth Gersen."

"You must work for the IPCC."

"No."

"Then you must be on the Institute's Special Committee."

"I'm just Kirth Gersen, private individual." He rose to his feet.
"Let's walk for a bit."

They went north along the esplanade. To the left lay dark sea;

to the right the edifices glowing in various soft colors; and beyond,
the skyline of Avente: luminous spires against the black Alphanor
night.

Pallis presently took Gersen's arm. "Tell me, what if Malagate
is a Star King? What does that mean?"

"I've been wondering myself." Indeed, Gersen had been trying
to remember the look of the Star King. Had it been Warweave?
Kelle? Or Detteras? The lusterless black skin tone had blurred the
features; the striped coif had covered the hair. Gersen had an im-
pression that the Star King had been taller than Kelle, but not quite

106 TIIF. DEMON7 PRINCES

so tall as Warweave. But would even the black skin tone have cam-
ouflaged Detteras' rude rough features?

Pallis was speaking: "Will they really kill that man?"

Gersen glanced up to see if he could locate the stick-tight, with-
out success. "I don't know. He's useful. Incidentally. ..." Gersen
hesitated, wondering anew as to the ethics of involving Pallis in the
sordid affair, if only remotely.

"Incidentally what?"

"Nothing." For fear of the stick-right's microphone Gersen
dare not inquire as to the movements ofKelle, Detteras and War-
weave; Malagate so far had no reason to suspect his interest.

Pallis said in an injured voice, "I still don't understand how all
of this affects you."

Once more Gersen chose to be discreet. The stick-tight might
hear; Pallis Atwrode herself might be an agent of Malagate's,
though Gersen considered this unlikely. So he said, "Not at all-
except in the abstract."

"But any of these people"-she nodded at the passersby-"they
might be Star Kings. How could we separate them from men?"

"It's hard. On their home planet-I won't attempt to pro-
nounce it-they come in many approximations to man. Those who
travel the known worlds as observers-spies, if you prefer, although
I can't imagine what they hope to learn-they're almost exact fac-
similes of true men."

Pallis suddenly seemed subdued. She opened her mouth to
speak, then closed it again, and finally gave a gay fling other hands.
"Let's forget about them. Nightmares. You have me seeing Star
Kings everywhere. Even at the university. ..."

Gersen looked down into her upturned face. "Do you know
what I'd like to do?"

She smiled provocatively. "No. What?"

"First I'd like to shake off the stick-tight, which is no great
problem. And then. . . ."

"And then?"

"I'd like to go somewhere quiet, where we could be alone."

She looked away. "I don't mind. There's a place down the coast.
Les Sirenes, it's called. I've never been there." She laughed in em-
barrassment. "But I've heard people talking."

Gersen took her arm. "First to shake off the stick-tight. . . ."

Pallis entered into the maneuvers with childlike abandon.

THE STAR KING

107

Looking into the merry face, Gersen wondered about his resolve
to avoid emotional involvements. If they went to Les Sirenes, if the
night brought them to closer intimacy, what then? Gersen thrust
aside his qualms. He could cope with problems as they arose.

The stick-tight, if it had existed, was confounded and lost; they
returned to the parking area. There was little light; the ranked
round shapes glimmered with silky dull highlights.

They came to the slide car; Gersen hesitated, then put his arms
around the swaying girl, kissed her upturned face.

Behind him was the loom of movement; ahead a furtive shifting.
Gersen turned, in time to look into a horrid bloodred face with
poisonous blue cheeks. Hildemar Dasce's arm descended; a great
weight curled over Gersen's head; lightning exploded inside his
skull. He tottered and fell to his knees. Dasce leaned over him.
Gersen tried to dodge. The world reeled and toppled; he saw Su-
thiro grinning like a sick hyena, with his hand to the girl's neck.
Dasce struck again, and the world went dim, Gersen had time for
an instant of bitter self-reproach, before another thunderous buffet
extinguished his consciousness.

Excerpt from "When Is a Man Not a Man," by Podd
Hachinsky, article in Cosmopolis, June, 1500;

... As men have traveled from star to star they have
encountered many forms of life, intelligent and nonintelli-
gent (to emphasize a perfectly arbitrary and possibly an-
thropomorphic parameter). No more than half a dozen of
these life forms merit the adjective "humanoid." Of these
half dozen, a single species closely resembles man: the Star
Kings of Ghnarumen.

Ever since our initial astounded contact with the race,
the question has recurred: Are they of the family of man-
the "bifurcate, bibrachiate, monocephaloid, polygamtte/' as
Tallier Chantron waggishly puts it-or are they not? The
answer, of course, depends on definitions.

One point can instantly be settled: the Star Kings are
not homo sapiens. But if what is meant is a creature which
can talk a human language, walk into a haberdashery and
dress himself off a rack, play an excellent game of tennis,
or fight a bout of chess, attend the regal functions of Stock-
holm or the lawn fetes of Strylvania without occasioning a
lift of autocratic eyebrow-then that creature is a man.

Man or not man, the typical Star King is a courteous,
even-tempered fellow, even if suspicious and humorless. Do
him a favor and he will thank you, but feel no obligation;

injure him and he will explode in tigerish fury and kill
you-if he is in a situation where human law cannot restrain
him. If such action will cause legal trouble, he will instantly

THE STAR KING

dismiss the injury and hold no grudge. He is ruthless but
not cruel, and is puzzled by such perverse human manifes-
tations as sadism, masochism, religious fervor, flagellation,
suicide. On the other hand, he will demonstrate a whole
battery of peculiar habits and attitudes no less inexplicable
from our point of view, arising from the twists and quirks
of his own psyche.

To say that his origin is in dispute is like a remark to
the effect that Croesus was well off. At least a dozen the-
ories to explain the remarkable similarity between Star King
and Man exist: none completely convincing. If the Star
Kings themselves know, they will admit nothing. Since they
bar all anthropological and archaeological research teams
from their planet, we are afforded neither verification nor
refutal of any of these theories.                 /

On human planets they punctiliously model their con-
duct after the best human examples, but their innate be-
havior patterns are unique to the race. Perhaps to
oversimplify, one can say that their dominant trait is a pas-
sion to excel, to outdo a competitor at his own game. Since
man is the dominant creature of the Oikumene, the Star
Kings accept him as a cynosure, a champion to be chal-
lenged and outdone, and so they strive to outdo man in
every aspect of the human capacity. If this ambition (at
which they are often successful) seems unreal and artificial
to us, no less so does our sexual drive seem to them; for
the Star Kings are parthenogenetic, reproducing in a man-
ner which is beyond the scope of this article to describe.
Knowing nothing of vanity, setting no store by either
beauty or ugliness, they strive for physical perfection only
to score points in their semi-amicable contest with true
men....

What of their achievements? They are fine builders,
daring engineers, excellent technicians. They are a prag-
matic race, not particularly apt at mathematics or the spec-
ulative sciences. It is hard to conceive of their giving birth
to a Jarnell, who discovered the space splitter by sheer ac-
cident. Their cities are impressive sights, rising from the
flatlands like a growth of metallic crystals. Each adult Star
King builds for himself a spire or tower. The more fervent

110

THE DEMON PRINCES

his ambition and the more exalted his rank, the higher and
more splendid his tower (which he seems to enjoy only as
a monument). Upon his demise the tower may be tempo-
rarily occupied by some junior individual during the period
in which he accumulates sufficient wealth to build his own
tower. Inspirational as the cities seem from a distance, they
lack the most obvious municipal utilities, and the areas be-
tween the towers are unpaved, dusty, littered. Factories, in-
dustrial plants, and the like are housed in low utilitarian
domes and manned by the least aggressive and least evolved
of the species-for the race is by no means homogeneous.
It is as if every human gathering included Proconsuls,
Pithecanthropi, sinanthropus giganticus, Neanderthals, Mag-
dalentans, Solutreans, Grimaldi, Cro-Magnon, and all the
races of Modern Man.

At midnight a group of young folk came laughing and singing into
the parking area. They had dined with unaccustomed amplitude at
The Halls; they had visited Llanfelfair, Lost Star Inn, Haluce, the
Casino Plageale; they were intoxicated, but as much by exuberance
as by the wines, smokes, perfusions, subliminal whirligigs, chants,
voltes and other exaltments purveyed by the houses which they had
visited. The youth who stumbled over Gersen's body uttered first
a jocular malediction, then an exclamation of shocked concern. The
group gathered; one ran to his vehicle, pressed the emergency call
button; two minutes later a police craft dropped down from the sky,
and shortly afterward an ambulance.

Gersen was conveyed to a hospital, where he was treated for
concussion and shock with appropriate irradiation, massage and vi-
talizing medicines. He presently returned to consciousness, and for
a moment lay thinking. Then he gave a sudden lurch and tried to
rise from the bed. The attending interns cautioned him, but Ger-
sen, paying no heed, struggled erect and stood swaying.
"My clothes!" he croaked. "Give me my clothes!"
"They're safe in the closet, sir. Relax, recline, if you please.
Here is the police officer, who will take your evidence."

Gersen lay back, sick with apprehension. The police investi-
gator approached: a keen-faced young man wearing the yellow-
brown jacket and black breeches of the Sea Province Constabulary.

THE SJ'AR KING 111

He addressed himself to Gersen politely, seated himself, opened
the flap of the recorder lens.

"Now, sir, what happened?"

"I was out for the evening with a young woman, Miss Pallis
Atwrode of Remo. When we came back to the car, I was slugged,
and I don't know what happened to Miss Atwrode. The last thing
I remember, she was struggling to escape from one of the men."

"There were how many?"

"Two. I recognized them. Their names are Hildemar Dasce
and a man I know only as Suthiro, a Sarkoy. Both are notorious
men Beyond."

"I see. The young lady's name and address?"

"Pallis Atwrode, Merioneth Apartments, Remo."

"We'll check at once to make sure she hasn't arrived home.
Now, Mr. Gersen, let's go over this again."

In a dull voice Gersen gave a detailed account of the attack,
described Hildemar Dasce and Suthiro. As he spoke, a report came
in from Constabulary Control: Pallis Atwrode had not returned to
her apartment. Roads, airways and space terminals were under ob-
servation. The IPCC had been called into the case.

"Now, sir," said the investigator in a neutral voice, "may I in-
quire your business?"

"I am a locater."

"What is the nature of your association with these two men?"

"None. I saw them at work once before, on Smade's Planet.
Apparently they regard me as an enemy. I believe that they are part
ofAttel Malagate's organization."

"Very strange that they should commit an actionable offense
so brazenly. In fact, why did they not kill you?"

"I don't know." Gersen once more staggered to his feet. The
investigator watched with professional attentiveness. "What are
your plans, Mr. Gersen?"

"I want to find Pallis Atwrode."

"Understandable, sir. But best that you do not interfere. The
police are more effective than a single man. We should have news
for you at any time."

"I don't think so," said Gersen. "By now they're in space."

The investigator, rising to his feet, made tacit admission that
such was the case. "We will naturally keep you informed." He
bowed, departed.

112

THE DEMON PRINCES

Gersen immediately dressed, with the disapproving help of an
orderly. His knees were weak; his head floated in a kind of gener-
alized all-embracing pain; there was a faint singing in his ears from

the drugs.

An elevator dropped him directly to a subway station; Gersen
stood on an exchange platform, straining to formulate a coherent
plan of action. A phrase kept repeating itself compulsively, like an
inchworm traversing the inner surface of his skull: Poor Pallis, poor

Pallis.

With no better plan in mind, he stepped into a capsule and sent
himself to a station under the Esplanade. He emerged, but instead
of going to the car, took a seat in a brasserie and drank coffee. "By
now she's in space," he told himself once more. "And it's my fault.
My fault." Because he should have foreseen this sort of outcome.
Pallis Atwrode knew Warweave, Kelle and Detteras well; she saw
them daily, heard whatever gossip there was to be heard. Malagate
the Star King, Malagate the Woe, was one of three men, and Pallis
Atwrode evidently had knowledge which, coupled to Suthiro's in-
discretions, made Malagate's incognito insecure. Hence she must
be removed. Killed? Sold into slavery? Taken by Dasce for his per-
sonal use? Poor Pallis, poor Pallis!

Gersen looked out over the ocean. A rim of lavender was form-
ing at the horizon, presaging dawn. The stars were fading.

"I've got to face up to it," Gersen told himself. "It's my re-
sponsibility, If she is harmed-but no. I'll kill Hildemar Dasce in
any event. . . ." Suthiro, treacherous, fox-faced Suthiro was already
as good as dead. And there was Malagate himself, the architect of
the entire evil construction. As a Star King he somehow seemed
less hateful: a dire beast, which might be expunged without emo-


tion.

Surfeited with hate and grief and misery, Gersen went to the
car in the now empty parking area. There was the spot where Dasce
had stood. There, where he had lain unconscious-what a wretched
careless fool! How the spirit of his grandfather must writhe in

shame!

He started the car, returned to his hotel. There were no mes-
sages.

Dawn had come to Avente. Rigel threw wide horizontal fans of
light between the distant Catiline Hills and a darkling bank of

THE STAR KING

113

clouds. Gersen set the alarm dial, dosed himself with a two-hour
soporific, threw himself down on the bed.

He awoke to gloom and depression even more intense than
before. Time had passed; whatever had been in store for Pallis At-
wrode was now fact. Gersen ordered coffee; he could not bring
himself to eat-

He considered what he must do. The IPCC? He would be
forced to tell everything he knew. Could the IPCC act more effi-
ciently if he laid his information before them? He could tell them
that he suspected an administrator of the Sea Province University
to be one of the so-called Demon Princes. What then? The IPCC,
an elite police force, with the vices and virtues characteristic of such
an organization, might or might not be trustworthy. Star Kings had
possibly infiltrated the group: in that case Malagate would certainly
be warned. And how could the information help rescue Pallis At-
wrode? Hildemar Dasce was the kidnaper; Gersen had reported
this, and no information could be more explicit.

Another possibility: the exchange of Teehalt's world for Pallis
Atwrode. . .. Gersen would gladly accept the trade-but whom to
trade with? He still could not identify Malagate. The IPCC no
doubt would have means to detect him. Then what? The exchange
would no longer be conceivable. There might be a quiet execu-
tion-though the IPCC generally acted only upon the formal re-
quest of some authorized governmental agency. And in the
meantime, what of Pallis Atwrode? She would be lost-a small de-
lightful spark of life extinguished, forgotten.

But if Gersen knew Malagate's identity he would have vastly
more leverage. He could make his offer with assurance. The logic
of the situation seemed to be that Gersen proceed as before. But
how slow! Think of Pallis, poor Pallis! Nevertheless, Hildemar
Dasce had gone Beyond, and no effort of Gersen or of the IPCC
could avail against this hard fact. Artel Malagate alone had the
power to order his return. If Pallis Atwrode still lived.

The situation had not changed. As before, his first urgency was:

identify Malagate. Then: bargain, or extort.

With his course of action once more clear, Gersen's spirits
lifted. More accurately, his resolve and dedication burned at a fer-
vent new heat. Hate gave him a heady, almost drunken, sense of
omnipotence. No one, nothing, could withstand emotion so in-
tense!

114

THE DEMON PRINCES

The hour of his appointment with Detteras, Warweave and
Kelle was approaching. Gersen dressed, descended to the garage,
slid his car out upon the avenue and headed south.

Arriving at the university, he parked, rode the slideway to the
mall, crossed the quadrangle to the College of Galactic Morphol-
ogy. Hoping against hope, with a sudden quick jerking of the heart,
he looked toward the reception desk. A different girl was on duty.
He asked politely, "Where is Miss Atwrode this morning?"

"I don't know, sir. She hasn't arrived. Perhaps she's not feeling

well."

Perhaps indeed, thought Gersen. He mentioned his appoint-
ment and proceeded to the office of Rundle Detteras.

Warweave and Kelle were there before him. The three un-
doubtedly had reached a common decision, a common course of
action. Gersen looked from face to face, Detteras to Warweave to
Kelle. One of these creatures was human only in similitude. At
Smade's Tavern he had glimpsed him, and he tried to think back,
to visualize, to remember. No image came. Black-dyed skin and
exotic costume were a disguise beyond his penetration. Furtively he
assessed each. Which? Warweave: aquiline, cold-eyed, arrogant?
Kelle: precise, humorless, austere? Or Detteras, whose geniality
now seemed insincere and counterfeit?

He could not decide. He forced himself into a pose of studious
courtesy, and made his primary gambit. "Let's simplify the whole
matter," said Gersen. "I'll pay you-by this I naturally mean the
college-for the decoding strip. I imagine the college could use a
thousand SVU. In any event, that's the offer I wish to make."

His adversaries, each in his own style, seemed taken aback.
Warweave raised his brows, Kelle stared fixedly, Detteras put on a

puzzled half smile.

Warweave said, "But we understood that you intended to sell
what you conceived to be your interest in this matter."

"I don't mind selling," said Gersen. "If you'll offer me

enough."

"And how much is enough?"
"A million SVU, perhaps two, or perhaps three, if you'll go

that high."

Kelle snorted. Detteras shook his big ugly head.
"Fees of that sort are not paid to locaters," said Warweave.

THE STAR KING 115

"Has it been established which of you sent out Teehalt?" asked
Gersen.

"What does it matter?" asked Warweave. "Your interest in the
affair-money-has become clear enough." He looked from Kelle
to Detteras. "Whoever it is has either forgotten or does not care
to disclose himself. Doubtless that is the way the situation will re-


main.

Detteras said, "It's certainly inconsequential. Come now, Mr.
Gersen, we have decided to make you a joint offer-certainly not
as grandiose as the figure you name-"

"How much?"

"Possibly as much as 5,000 SVU."

"Ridiculous. This is an exceptional world."

"You do not know this," Warweave pointed out. "You have not
been there; or so you claim."

"More to the point," said Kelle dryly, "neither have we."

"You have seen the photographs," said Gersen.

"Exactly," said Kelle. "We have seen no -more. Photographs
can be faked without difficulty. I for one do not propose to pay out
a large sum on the strength of three photographs."

"Understandable," said Gersen. "But for my part I don't intend
to make a move without a guarantee. Don't forget I have suffered
a loss, and this is my opportunity to make it good."

"Be reasonable!" Detteras urged bluffly. "Without the decoder,
the filament is just another spool of wire."

"Not completely. Fourier analysis eventually can break the
code."

"In theory. It is a long expensive process."

"Not as expensive as giving the filament away for next to noth-

in^"

The discussion continued for an hour, Gersen gritting his teeth

in impatience. A price of 100,000 SVU, to be deposited in escrow,
was eventually arranged; the sale conditional upon a list of provisos
relating to the physical characteristics of the world in question.

Agreement having been reached, telescreen contact with the
Bureau of Deeds and Contracts at Avente was made. The four men
identified themselves formally, represented their interests; the con-
tract was read into the records.

A second call, to the Bank of Alphanor, established the escrow
account.

116 THE DEMON PRINCES

The three administrators now sat back and inspected Gersen,
who in his turn looked from one to the other. "So much is settled.
Which of you goes with me to inspect this world3"

The three exchanged glances. "I'll go," said Wat-weave. "I'll be
very much interested to go."

"I was about to volunteer my own services," said Detteras.

"In that case," said Kelle, "I might as well come along too. I'm
very much overdue for a change."

Gersen seethed m frustration He had expected Malagate-
whoever he might be-to volunteer his services; in fact, to assert
them. Gersen could then take this individual aside and offer a new
set of conditions: the filament for Pallis Atwrode. WTiat, after all,
was the world to him? His single goal was Malagate's identity, and
after that his life.

But now this plan had gone by the boards. If all three went out
to Teehalt's planet, the identification of Malagate must depend
upon new circumstances. Meanwhile the fate ofPalhs Atwrode bore
no thinking about.

Gersen made a last-ditch protest. "My boat is small for four.
Better if only one went out with me."

"No difficulty there," Detteras stated. "We will go out in the
departmental ship. Plenty of room aboard."

"Another matter," said Gersen gruffly. 'T have urgent business
I must see to in the near future. I am sorry to inconvenience you,
but I insist that we leave today "

There was vigorous and general protest: all three declared
themselves tied up for at least a week by engagements, appoint-
ments, and commitments.

Gersen put on a show of temper. "Gentlemen, you have wasted
enough of my time. We leave today, or I'll take the filament else-
where-or destroy it." He watched the three faces, hoping to sur-
prise Malagate in dismay. Warweave gave him a glance of metallic
dislike; Kelle examined him as if he were an insubordinate child;

Detteras shook his head ruefully. There was a moment of silence.
W^ho would be the first to agree, no matter how reluctantly, to the
conditions31

Warweave said in a colorless voice, "I consider that you are
taking a very arbitrary and high-handed position."

"Confound it," grumbled Detteras, "I can't simply ditch every-
thing m five minutes."

THE \TAR KI\G 117

"One of you should be able to tear yourself loose," Gersen
suggested hopefully. "We can make a preliminary survey-suffi-
cient so I can take my money and be off about mv business."

"Humph," grunted Detteras

Kelle said slowly, "I suppose that I would be able to go out."

W^arweave nodded "My engagements, with considerable in-
convenience, can be postponed "

Detteras threw his hands into the air, turned to the screen,
called his secretary. "Cancel all my appointments Urgent business
is taking me out of town."

"For how long, sir3"

"I don't know," said Detteras, with a hard glance for Gersen.
"Indefinitely"

Gersen continued his inspection of the three men. Detteras
alone had displayed irritation. Kelle obviously regarded the trip as
an unexpected outing, Warweave maintained a cool detachment.

So much for that particular ploy, thought Gersen He went to
stand by the door "W^e'll meet at the spaceport, agreed3 At-let
us say-seven o'clock. I will bring the filament; one of you must
bring the decoding strip."

The three acquiesced, and Gersen departed

Returning to Avente, Gersen pondered the future. What chal-
lenges would he face from these three men, one of whom was Attel
Malagate3 It would be foolhardy not to make preparations, to ar-
range safeguards this was the training imposed upon him by his
grandfather, a methodical man, who had labored diligently to dis-
cipline Gersen's innate tendency to rely upon improvisation.

At the hotel Gersen examined his belongings, and made certain
selections, then packed and checked out After painstaking precau-
tions against stick-tights and human trackers, he went to a branch
office of the Amalgamated Distribution Service, another of the
monster semipublic utility companies with agencies throughout the
Oikumene. In a booth he consulted catalogues which offered him
a choice of a million products produced by thousands of fabricators
Making his choice, he punched the requisite buttons, went to the
sen ice counter

There was a wait of three minutes, while automatic machinery
ranged the shel\es of the enormous underground warehouse, then
the mechanism Gersen had ordered appeared on a belt He exam-
ined it, paid the clerk, departed, and rode the subway to the space-

118 THE DEMON PRINCES

port. He inquired the location of the university ship from an
attendant, who took him out on a terrace and pointed down the
long line of spacecraft large and small, each in its bay.

"Notice, sir, the red and yellow yacht with side platform? Well,
count down three. First the CD 16, then the old Parabola, and then
the green and blue ship with the big observation dome. That's the
job. She's going out today, eh?"

"Yes. About seven. How did you know?"

"One of the crew is already aboard, I had to let him on."

"I see." Gersen went down to the field, walked along the way
which led past the ranked spacecraft. From the shadow of the ship
in the next bay, he inspected the university ship. The contours were
distinctive, as was the rather elaborate emblem at the bow. Recol-
lection stirred at the back of his mind: somewhere before he had
seen this ship. Where? At Smade's Planet on the landing field be-
tween mountains and black ocean. It was the ship used by the Star
King.

The shape of a man passed in front of one of the observation
windows. When he moved out of sight Gersen crossed the space
between the two ships.

Cautiously he tried the outer entry port; it eased ajar. He
stepped into the transition chamber, peered through the panel into
the ship's main saloon. Suthiro the Sarkoy worked at an object
which he apparently had attached to the underside of a shelf.

Inside Gersen something more ferocious than gladness-a pe-
culiar exaltation of hate-swelled and burst, suffusing his enure
body. He tried the inner portal; it was locked from within. There
was, however, an emergency disengagement which would unlock
the door if pressure were equalized between cabin and outer atmo-
sphere. Gersen touched the emergency switch. There was an au-
dible click. Within the ship, all was silent. Not daring to glance
through the panel, Gersen pressed his ear to the port. Useless: no
sound could pass through the laminated structure. He waited a min-
ute, then carefully eased himself up to look into the cabin once

more.

Suthiro had heard nothing. He had gone forward, and now
appeared to be adjusting the padding around a stanchion. His heavy
flat-skulled head was bent forward, his lips were pursed out.

Gersen slid back the port and stepped into the cabin, a projac
pointed at the big square buckle of Suthiro's steppe-rider harness.

THE STAR KfNG 119

"Skop Suthiro," said Gersen. "This is a pleasure for which I had
not dared hope."

Suthiro's dog-brown eyes opened and shut; he grinned broadly.
"I was waiting for your arrival."

"Indeed. And why?"

"I wanted to continue our discussion of last night."

"We were speaking of Godogma, the long-legged walker with
wheels on his feet. Plainly he has wheeled across the path of your
life, and you will never drive your wagon over the Gorobundur."

Suthiro became very still, his eyes measuring Gersen.

"What happened to the girl?" asked Gersen gently.

Suthiro considered, then rejected the feasibility of feigning in-
nocence. "She was taken by Fancy Dasce."

"With your connivance. Where is she now?"

Suthiro shrugged. "He had orders to kill her. Why, I don't
know. I am told very little. Dasce will not kill her. Not till he has
the full use of her. He is a khet.^ Suthiro sneered the epithet, a
metaphor linking Dasce to the obscenely fecund Sarkovy mink.

"He has left Alphanor?"

"Certainly." Suthiro seemed surprised at Gersen's naivete.
"Probably for his little planet." He made a fretful uncomfortable
motion, which brought him an imperceptible four inches closer to
Gersen.

"Where is this planet?"

"Ha! Do you think he would tell me? Or anyone else?"

"In that case-but I must ask you to stand back."

"Pah," whispered Suthiro in a childish display of petulance. "I
can poison you any time I choose."

Gersen allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. "I have already
poisoned you."

Suthiro raised his eyebrows. "When? You have never closed
with me."

"Last night. I touched you when I handed you paper. Look at
the back of your right hand."

Suthiro stared in slow horror at the red weal. "Cluthe!"

Gersen nodded. "Cluthe."

"But-why should you do this to me?"

"You merit such an end."

Suthiro launched himself like a leopard; the projector in Ger-
sen's hand discharged a stalk of blue-white energy. Suthiro fell to

THE. DEMON PRINCES

120

the deck, lay staring up at Gersen. "Better plasma than cluthe," he

whispered huskily.

"You'll die by cluthe," said Gersen.

Suthiro shook his head. "Not while I carry my poisons."

"Godogma calls you. So now speak truth. Do you hate Hilde-

mar Dasce?"

"I hate Dasce indeed." Suthiro seemed surprised, as if there

were anyone who did not hate Dasce.
"I would kill Dasce."
"Most people would do no less."
"Where is his planet?"
"Beyond. I know no more."
"When are you to see him next?"
"Never. I am dying, and Dasce is bound for a deeper hell than

mine."

"If you lived?"

"Never. I was to return to Sarkovy."

"Who knows of this planet?"

"Malagate .. . perhaps."

"Is there no one else? Tristano?"

"No. Dasce tells little. The world is airless." Suthiro carefully
hunched himself together. "Already the skin begins to itch."

"Listen, Suthiro. You hate Dasce. Yes? And you hate me, for I
have poisoned you. Think! You, a Sarkoy, poisoned by me, and so
easily."

Suthiro muttered, "I hate you indeed."

"Tell me how to find Dasce, then. One of us must kill the
other. The death will be your doing."

Suthiro rocked his furry head in desolation. "But I cannot tell
you what I do not know."

"What has he said of his world? Does he talk?"

"He boasts: Dasce is a vile braggart. His world is harsh; only a
man like himself could master this world. He lives in the crater of
a dead volcano."

"What of the sun?"

Suthiro hunched himself together. "It is dim. Yes. It must be
red. They asked Dasce about his face-in a tavern. Why had he
dyed himself red? To match his sun, said Dasce, which was the
same color, and not much larger.

"A red dwarf," mused Gersen.

THE STAR KI.\G 121

"So it might be."

"Think! What else? Which direction? Which constellation?
Which sector?"

"He says nothing. And now-I do not care. I think only of
Godogma. Go away so that I may kill myself decently."

Gersen surveyed the huddled form without emotion. "What are
you doing here in the ship?"

Suthiro looked at his hand curiously, then rubbed his chest. "I
feel it moving." He examined Gersen. "Well, then, since you would
look on my death: watch." He put hands to his neck, convulsed his
knuckles. The brown eyes stared. "In thirty seconds now."

"Who would know of Dasce's planet? Has he friends?"

"Friends?" Suthiro, even in his last seconds, took occasion to
sneer.

"Where does he lodge in Avente?"

"North of Sailmaker Beach. In an old hut on Melnoy Heights."

"Who is Malagate? What is his name?"

Suthiro spoke in a whisper. "A Star King has no name."

"What name does he use on Alphanor?"

The thick lips opened and closed. Words rattled in the pale
throat. "You killed me. Should Dasce fail, let Malagate kill you."
The eyelids Jerked, quivered. Suthiro lay back, seemed to stiffen,
made no further movement.

Gersen looked down at the body. He walked around behind it,
studied it. The Sarkoy were notoriously treacherous and revengeful.
With his toe he attempted to turn the body over on its face. Quick
as the strike of a serpent the arm flashed around, poison prongs
ready. Gersen jerked back; the projac ejected a second dazzling line
of energy. This time Suthiro the Sarkoy lay truly dead.

Gersen searched the corpse. In the pouch he found a sum of
money, w^ich he tucked into his own wallet. There was a kit of
poisons, which Gersen examined, then, unable to comprehend Su-
thiro's cryptic nomenclature, discarded; also a device no larger than
his thumb, intended to project crystalline needles of poison or virus
on a Jet of compressed air: a man could be infected from a distance
of fifty feet and know nothing save a faint tingle. Suthiro carried a
projac similar to his own, three stilettos, a packet of fruit lozenges,
undoubtedly lethal.

Gersen dropped the weapons back into Suthiro's pouch,
dragged the body to a waste ejection locker, and crammed it away

122 THE DEMON PRINCES

out of sight. Once in space, the touch of a button would dispose of
Sivij Suthiro the Sarkoy. Next he looked to discover what Suthiro,
while alive, had so earnestly been trying to achieve. Under the shelf
he found a small toggle switch controlling a set of wires which led
to a concealed relay, which in turn activated the valves on four
reservoirs of gas at various secret spots around the cabin. Death gas
or anaesthetic? He detached one of the reservoirs and found a label
printed in the crabbed Sarkoy syllabary: Tironvirasko^s Instantaneous
Narcoleptic, an odorless sleep inducent with minimal post redacts. It
seemed that Malagate, no less methodical than Gersen, was taking
his own precautions.

Gersen took each of the four reservoirs to the entry port, re-
leased their contents, replaced them where he had found them. He
left Suthiro's switch in place, but changed its function.

This accomplished, Gersen brought out his own device: the
timer he had purchased at Amalgamated, and a grenade from his
armament.

After a moment's reflection, he secured it inside the reactor
housing, where it would do maximum damage, and yet be conven-
ient in case of need.

He glanced at his watch: one o'clock. Time was growing short.
Far too short to accomplish all that must be done. He departed,
locking the ship behind him and, returning to the terminal, took
the subway for Sailmaker Beach.

At a stand beside the station Gersen selected a self-service cab-
a single-seat scooter, gyroscopically balanced, with a transparent
canopy. Two SVU in the slot gave him possession for an hour.
Stepping aboard, he drove north through the noisy streets of Sail-
maker Beach.

The district had a unique flavor. Avente, a suave cosmopolitan
city, was almost indistinguishable from fifty other polities of the
Oikumene. Sailmaker Beach resembled no other locale in the
known universe. The buildings were low, thick-walled, constructed
for the most part of crushed coquina concrete, white or color-
washed; in the blazing light of Rigel even pastels seemed intense.
For some reason lavender and pale blue, along with white, were the
most popular tints. The district was home to scores of off-world
nationalities, each forming an enclave, each with its characteristic
food shops, restaurants, specialty houses. Though widely disparate
of origin, habit and physiognomy, the inhabitants of the district

THE STAR KING 123

were uniformly voluble, half suspicious, half naive, contemptuous
of outsiders, equally contemptuous of each other. They earned their
living from tourists, as domestic servants or day laborers, as pro-
prietors of small shops and craft studios, as entertainers or musi-
cians in the innumerable taverns, bistros, bordellos, restaurants.

At the north rose Melnoy Heights, and here the architecture
changed to tall narrow apartment buildings, of almost Gothic elon-
gation, each seeming to peer over the other's shoulder, across Sail-
maker Beach to the more conventional districts. In Melnoy Heights
Hildemar Dasce reputedly had lodgings. As methodically as short-
ness of time and anxiety allowed, Gersen sought information re-
garding him.

There was no Hildemar Dasce listed in the Melnoy Heights
Directory-nor had Gersen expected to find one. Dasce undoubt-
edly would desire privacy, the pose of normality.

Gersen began to visit the taverns, describing the tall man with
the split nose, the red skin, the chalk-blue cheeks. He soon en-
countered folk who had noticed Dasce, but not until the fourth
tavern did he find anyone who had spoken with him.

"You must mean Beauty," said the bartender, a stubby orange-
skinned man, with russet hair arranged in fine glossy festoons and
curls. Gersen stared in fascination at the chain carved from tur-
quoise which looped from a hole in his left nostril to a hole in the
lobe of his left ear. "Beauty comes in often to drink. A spaceman,
he claims himself, but as to this I can't be certain. I have often
declared myself a great lover. All of us lie, as much or more than
necessary. 'What is truth?' asks Pons Pilarus, in the fable, and I
answer: 'A commodity as cheap as air which we hide as if it were
as precious as yewl stone,' " The bartender was disposed to further
philosophy; Gersen hauled him back to the issue at hand. "Where
does Beauty Dasce house himself?"

"Up the hill, up back." The bartender made a vague gesture.
"I can tell you no more, because I know no more."

Gersen rode his scooter up the steep lanes and switchbacks of
Melnoy Heights. Inquiry at another tavern, a tiresome series of
questions at various shops, lobbies and street corners, finally re-
sulted in explicit directions to Dasce's lodgings. Riding a little un-
paved road which left the area of tall apartments, Gersen circled a
steep rocky hillside, where gangs of children scrambled like goats.
At the end of the road stood an isolated rectangular cottage, rudely,

124

THE DEMON PRINCES

if substantially, constructed. It commanded a magnificent view over
the ocean; over Sailmaker Beach; the Grand Esplanade, dwindling
far to the south; and, only just perceptible through the haze, the

apartment towers of Remo.

Gersen approached the cottage with care, though it exuded the
indefinable but unmistakable feeling of vacancy. He walked around
peering through the windows, seeing nothing of interest. After a
quick glance to right and left, he broke in the sash of an incon-
spicuous window, and cautiously, in the event that Dasce had set
out mantraps, climbed into the cottage.

The house was strong with the feel of Dasce's habitancy: a
faintly acrid odor, together with an aura more subtle than odor, of
crudeness, dark, pompous, magnificent strength. There were four
rooms, encompassing the usual functions. Gersen made a quick
general investigation, then concentrated his attention upon the par-
lor. The ceiling was scrolled plaster, painted pale yellow. The floor
was covered by a carpet of greenish-yellow fiber, the walls were a
checkerboard of maroon and dark brown hardwood tiles. At the far
end Dasce had placed a desk and a heavy chair. The wall over the
desk was hung with dozens of photographs: Dasce in all poses,
against every variety of background.

There was Dasce in startling close-up, revealing every pore of
his skin, the split cartilage of his nose, the lidless blue eyes. There
was Dasce in the costume of a Bernal flame fighter-varnished
black plates and horns and cusps and prongs, like a titanic stag
beetle. There was Dasce in a palanquin of yellow rattan, hung with
persimmon silk, borne on the shoulders of six black-haired maidens.
The angle of the wall displayed a set of photographs of a man who
was not Dasce. Apparently they had been taken over a period of
years. The first showed the face of a man thirty years old: a sturdy,
confident, bulldog face, serene, even complacent. The face had
changed alarmingly in the second of the photographs. The cheeks
were sunken, the eyes started from their sockets, the nerves at the
temples showed in an intricate mesh. In each succeeding photo-
graph the face became ever more haggard... . Gersen glanced
along a row of books: pornography of a childishly obscene nature,
weapon manuals, an index to Sarkoy poisons, a late edition of Hand-
hook to the Planets, an index to Dasce's microbook library, a Star

Directory.

The desk itself was extremely handsome: side panels of dark

THE STAR KING

125

wood carved to represent griffins and winged serpents in a jungle;

the surface an exquisite inlay of opals polished flat. Gersen checked
the drawers and pigeonholes. They were barren of information-
completely empty, in fact. Gersen stood back, a tide of grim despair
rising within him. He looked at his watch. In four hours he must
meet Detteras, Warweave and Kelle at the spaceport. He stood in
the center of the room, carefully scrutinized every article. Some-
where must be a link with Dasce's secret planet; how to recognize
it?

He went to the bookshelf, took down the Star Directory^ ex-
amined the lay of the binding. If Dasce's red dwarf were listed he
certainly must have located it in the directory. If he had done so
several times, there might be a crease, a smear, a discoloration. No
such mark was visible. Gersen held the book by its two covers, let
it hang. A third through the book the pages separated a hairbreadth.
Gersen carefully opened the book at this spot, looked down the
listing. Each star-and on this page there were two hundred-was
described under eleven headings: index number, constellation place-
ment as viewed from Earth, star type, planetary information, mass,
vector of velocity, diameter, density, location coordinates, distance
from the center of the Oikumene, remarks.

Twenty-three red dwarfs were listed. Eight of these were dou-
ble. Eleven hung solitary in space, forlorn feeble sparks. Four were
accompanied by planets, eight planets in all. These four Gersen
scrutinized with especial care. Reluctantly he was forced to con-
clude that none of these planets could conceivably be considered
habitable. Five of the planets were too hot, one was completely
awash in liquid methane, two were too massive to allow human
toleration of the gravity. Gersen's mouth drooped in disappoint-
ment. Nothing. Still, the page at one time had been earnestly con-
sulted; there must be information here which Dasce needed or
valued. Gersen tore the page from the book.

The front door opened; Gersen whirled. In the opening stood
a middle-aged man no larger than a boy often. His head was round;

his eyes brimmed with curiosity, flicking over Gersen, around the
room. He had large features, long pointed ears, a heavy protuberant
mouth: a Highland Imp from the Highlands of Krokinole, one of
the more specialized races of the Concourse.

He came forward, fearlessly swaggering. "Who are you, that's

THE DEMON PRINCES

126

in Mr. Spock's house? Looking through Mr. Spock's things? A bur-
glar, I think."

Gersen replaced the book, and the Imp said, "That's one of his
precious volumes, that bit of stuff. Not likely he wants your fingers
all over it. I'd better go for the constable."

"Come back here," said Gersen. "Who are you?"

"I'm the by-your-leave caretaker, that's who I am. Also this is
my land and my house and my freehold. Mr. Spock is the man I
let to, and why should I give every burglar north of Swansea leave
to pillage and loot?"

"Mr. Spock is a criminal," said Gersen.

"And if he is, it's proof then that there's no honor among
thieves."

"I'm no thief," said Gersen mildly. "The IPCC is after your
tenant, Mr. Spock."

The Imp bent his big head forward. "Be you IPCC? Show me
your blazer."

On the assumption that a Krokinole Imp would not recognize
an IPCC blazer when he saw one, Gersen displayed a transparent
tablet, with his photograph under a gold seven-pointed star. He
touched it to his forehead and it glowed into light, a factitious dis-
play which impressed the Imp. He instantly became effusive in his
cordiality.

"Never did think that Mr. Spock was up to good. He'll come
to a bad end, mark my words! What's he done now?"

"Kidnap. Murder."

"Bad deeds, both. I'll have to caution Mr. Spock."

"He is a wicked man. How long has he lived here?"

"Donkey's years."

"You know him well, then?"

"Well indeed. Who drinks with him when everyone else turns
their heads as if Mr. Spock smelt poorly? Me. I drink with him,
and frequently. It's no treat to look like Mr. Spock, and I have my
compassion."

"So you're Spock's friend."

The big features twisted and moved in successive displays of
tolerance, crafty speculation, virtuous indignation. "I? Certainly
not. Do I look the sort who consorts with criminals?"

"But-let us say-you have heard Spock talking."

THE STAR KING

127

"That I have, and oh, the tales he tells!" The Imp's eyes rolled
ludicrously upward. "Do I believe him? No."

"Has he ever spoken of a secret world where he has a hide-
away?"

"Again and again. He calls it Thumbnail Gulch. W^hy? He al-
ways shakes his head when he's asked. A tight-mouthed man, Mr.
Spock, for all his loose braggadocio."

"What more has he said of his world?"

The Imp shrugged. "The sun's blood-red, hardly enough to
keep him warm."

"And where is this world?"

"Aha! That's where he's sly. No word of this will he speak.
Many's the time I've wondered, thinking that suppose poor Mr.
Spock took sick on this lonesome world-who'd know to tell his
friends?"

Gersen smiled grimly. "And this argument never induced him
to confide in you?"

"Never. Why do you wish to know?"

"He's kidnaped an innocent young woman and taken her to
this world."

"The rogue. What a raffish creature." The Imp shook his head
in distress, from which a certain measure of wistful envy was not
absent. "I'll never let my land and house to him again."

"Think. WTiat has Spock said regarding the world?"

The Imp screwed up his eyes. "Thumbnail Gulch. The world
is bigger than the sun. Astonishing, no?"

"If the sun is a red dwarf, not too astonishing."

"Volcanos. There are live volcanos on this world."

"Volcanos? That's odd. A red dwarfs planet shouldn't have
volcanos. It's too old."

"Old or young, the volcanos thrive. Mr. Spock lives in a dead
crater, and he sees a whole line of volcanos smoking up along the
horizon."

"What else?"

"Nought."

"How long does it take to get to his planet?"

"That I can't say."

"You've never met any of his friends?"

"Tosspots at the tavern, no more. But yes. One. Less than a
year ago-an Earthman, a heavy cruel man."

THE DEMON PRINCES

128

"Tristano?"

"I know nothing of his name. Mr. Spock had just returned from
a business trip Beyond, to a planet called New Hope. Do you know
it?"

"I've never been there."

"Nor I, though I've wandered far. But the very day of his re-
turn, while we sit in Gelperino's Saloon, the Earthman comes in.
'Where have you been?' he asks. 'Ten days I've been here, and we
left New Hope together.' Mr. Spock gives him his haughty look.
'If you must know, I looked in on my little hideaway for half a day.
I have obligations there, you know!' And the Earthman said no
more."

Gersen thought a moment and suddenly was in a hurry to leave.
"What more do you know?"

"Nothing more."

Gersen made a last survey of the house, under the inquisitive
scrutiny of the Imp, then departed, ignoring the Imp's sudden harsh
demands for damages when he discovered the broken window sash.
Hastily, now, Gersen rode down through the winding avenues,
across Sailmaker Beach, back into central Avente. He went to an
office of the Universal Technical Consultative Service, and gained
the attention of an operator.

"Set up this problem," said Gersen. "TWX) ships leave the planet
New Hope. One proceeds directly here, to Avente. The other goes
to a red dwarf star, spends half a day, then comes to Avente, arriving
ten days later. I want a list of the red dwarf stars which this second
ship might have visited."

The operator considered. "There is obviously an ellipsoid shell
here, the foci being New Hope and Alphanor. We must take into
account the accelerations and decelerations, the probable coast pe-
riods and landing times. There will necessarily be a locus of most
probability, and areas of diminishing probability."

"Set up the problem so that the machine lists these stars in
order of probability."

"To what limits?"

"Oh-one chance in fifty. Include also the constants of these
stars as given in the directory."

"Very well, sir. The fee will be 25 SVU."

Gersen brought forth money; the operator translated the prob-
lem into precise language, spoke into a microphone. Thirty seconds

THE STAR KING

129

later a sheet of paper dropped from a slot. The operator glanced
at it, signed his name, handed it without a word to Gersen.

Forty-three stars were listed. Gersen compared the list with the
page he had torn from Dasce's Directory. A single star occurred on
both lists. Gersen frowned in puzzlement. The star was a member
of a binary, without planets. The couple was.. . . Naturally! thought
Gersen, illumination flooding his mind. How else could volcanos
exist on the companion of a red dwarf? Dasce's world was not a
planet, but a dark star: a dead surface, perhaps still faintly warm.
Gersen had heard of such worlds. Usually they were too dense, too
massive for human occupancy, but if a small star in the course of
two or three billion years happened to sweep up enough detritus to
build a thick shell of light material, the surface gravity might well
be reduced to a tolerable level.

At ten minutes to seven, Kelle, Warweave and Detteras appeared
at the spaceport, wearing spacemen's harness, their skins washed
the blue-brown tone which originally, in popular credence, was
thought to protect the human organism from certain mysterious
Jarnell effluviae, and which by usage had become a normal adjunct
to the space traveler's accoutrements. They halted in the middle of
the lobby, looked about, spied Gersen, turned to face him as he
approached.

Gersen surveyed them with a dour smile. "We seem to be
ready, all of us. I thank you gentlemen for your promptness."

"Achieved, necessarily, at great inconvenience to all of us,"
stated Kelle.

"In due course the reason for haste will become clear," said
Gersen. "Your luggage?"

"On its way to the ship," said Detteras.

"Then we will leave. We have clearance?"

"Everything has been arranged," said Warweave.

The group proceeded from the lobby and walked around to the
docking area, toward which a crane was already trundling.

The luggage, four large cases and as many smaller packets, was
stacked beside the ship. Warweave unlocked the entry ports; Gersen
and Kelle passed the cases into the cabin. Detteras made a bluff
attempt to assert command. "We have four compartments aboard.
I'll take forward starboard; Kelle, you'll have starboard aft; War-

130 THE. DEMON PRINCES

weave, port forward; Gersen, port aft. We might as well move our
luggage out of the cabin."

"One moment," said Gersen. "There is a situation that we must
resolve before we proceed any further."

Detteras' big face creased in a scowl. "What sort of situation?"

"We are two parties of interest here-at least two parties. Nei-
ther trusts the other. W^e are going Beyond, past the edge of law.
All of us, recognizing this fact, have brought weapons. I propose
that we lock all weapons in the security cabinet; that we open the
luggage and, if necessary, strip ourselves naked, to assure each other
that all the weapons have been declared. Since you are three to my
one, if any advantage lies to either side, it is to yours."

"A highly undignified process," grumbled Detteras.

Kelle, more equable now than Gersen could have believed, said,
"Come now, Rundle. Gersen is merely verbalizing reality. In short,
I agree with him. The more so since I carry no weapons."

Warweave made a careless gesture. "Search me, search my lug-
gage; but let's get under way."

Detteras shook his head, opened his case, withdrew a projac of
great power, tossed it upon the table. "I have my doubts about the
wisdom of this. I have nothing against Mr. Gersen personally-but
suppose he takes us to a far planet where he has accomplices wait-
ing, who capture us and hold us for ransom? Stranger crimes have
occurred."

Gersen laughed. "If you consider this a real danger you need
only remain here. I don't care whether one goes or all go."

"WT-iat of your own weapons?" asked W^arweave dryly.

Gersen brought forth his projac, a pair of stilettos, a dagger,
four grenades the size of walnuts.

"Mv word," said Detteras. "You maintain quite an armament."

"I occasionally have need for it," said Gersen. "Now, the lug-
gage. .. ." The accumulated arms were placed in a cabinet which
was secured with four locks, each man retaining a key to one of the
locks.

The crane trundled up to the ship; the boom swung around.
Hooks engaged in trammels; the ship jerked, hung free, was carried
out on the field.

Detteras went to the main console and touched a button, w^hich
flashed a row of green lights. "Everything ready to go," he said.
"Tanks full, machinery in order."

THE STAR KING

131

Kelle cleared his throat and brought forth a handsomely
mounted wooden case bound in red leather. "This is one of the
departmental rationalizers. You have Mr. Teehalt's filament, I as-
sume?"

"Yes," said Gersen. "I have the filament with me. But there is
no hurry. Before we engage the monitor we must reach zero base
point, which is far distant."

"Very well," said Detteras. "WTiat are the coordinates?"

Gersen brought forward a slip of paper. "If you will allow me,"
he said politely, "I will make the settings on the autopilot."

With ill grace Detteras rose to his feet. "It seems to me that
there is no longer reason for distrust. We have stripped ourselves
of our weapons; all the issues have been settled. So let us all relax
and behave amicably."

"With pleasure," said Gersen.

The ship was lowered to the launching pad, the crane disen-
gaged and rolled away. The group settled themselves into takeoff
seats; Detteras started the automatic launching-sequence. There was
a Jar, a sense of acceleration, and Alphanor retreated below.

10

From the chapter "Malagate the Woe," in the book The
Demon Princes, by Caril Carphen, published by Eluci-
darian Press, New Wexford, Aloysius, Vega:

... In our cursory summary we have seen how each
Demon Prince is unique and highly individuated, each dis-
playing his characteristic style.

This is all the more remarkable in that the basic variety
of possible crimes is limited and can be numbered on the
fingers. There is crime for gain: extortion, robbery (which
includes piracy and raids on settled communities), swindling
in its infinite guises. There is slavery, with its various man-
ifestations: procuring, selling, and using slaves. Murder, co-
ercion, and torture are merely adjuncts to these activities.
The personal depravities are equally limited, and can be
classified under sexual debauchery, sadism, violent acts
prompted by pique, vmdictiveness, revenge, or vandalism.

Doubtless the catalogue is incomplete, perhaps even il-
logical, but this is beside the point. I merely wish to display
the basic paucity, in order to illustrate this point: that each
of the Demon Princes, in inflicting one or another atrocity,
impresses the act with his own style and seems to create a
new crime.

In the previous chapters we have examined the maniacal
Kokor Hekkus and his theories of absolute frightfulness; the
devious Viole Falushe, voluptuary, sybarite, and amateur of
kinaesthetics.

Completely distinctive is Artel Malagate, the Woe, in

THE STAR KING

style and mannerism. Rather than enlarging himself, pro-
jecting a macroscopic delineation of his person and deeds,
to mesmerize his victims and intimidate his enemies, Mal-
agate prefers the possibly equally chilling device of silence,
invisibility, dispassionate impersonality. There is no reliable
description of Malagate. Certainly Malagate is a cognomen,
derived from a folk epic of old Quantique. He acts with
implacable viciousness, although his cruelties are never
wanton, and, if he maintains a pleasure palace after the style
of Viole Falushe or Howard Alan Treesong, it is a well-
guarded secret.

Malagate's activities are primarily extortion and slavery.
In the Conclave of 1500 at Smade's Planet, where five De-
mon Princes and a score of lesser operators met to define
and circumscribe their activities, Malagate was allotted that
sector of the Beyond centered on Ferrier's Cluster. It in-
cludes over a hundred settlements, towns and vicinities,
upon all of which Malagate levies assessments. He rarely
encounters protest or complaint, for he need merely cite
the example of Mount Pleasant, a town of 5,000 persons
which declined to meet his demands. In the year 1499 Mal-
agate invited four other princes to join him. The junta
swept down upon the town, captured and enslaved the en-
tire population.

On the planet Grabhorne he maintains a plantation of
about ten thousand square miles, with a slave population
estimated at twenty thousand. Here are carefully tilled
farms, and factories which build exquisite furniture, musical
instruments and electronic mechanisms. The slaves are not
overtly ill treated, but working hours are long, the dormi-
tories are drab, social opportunities are restricted. Punish-
ment is a term in the mines, which few survive.

Attel Malagate's attention is usually wide and dispas-
sionate, but he sometimes focuses upon some individual.
The planet Caro lies in an area which none of the Demon
Princes claim. Mayor Janous Paragiglia of the city Desde
espoused and advocated a militia and space navy sufficient
to protect Caro, and to seek out and destroy Malagate or
any other of the Demon Princes who dared to attack Caro.
Malagate kidnaped Janous Paragiglia and tortured him for

THE DEMON PRINCES

154

thirty-nine days, telecasting the entire process to the cities
of Caro, to all the planets in his own sector, and, in one of
his rare acts of bravado, to the Rigel Concourse.

As mentioned, his personal appetites are unknown. A
rumor frequently encountered runs to the effect that Mal-
agate enjoys engaging in personal gladiatorial duels with
able-bodied enemies, with swords for weapons. Malagate is
said to exhibit superhuman strength and dexterity, and
seems to derive satisfaction from slowly hewing his oppo-
nent to bits.

Like certain other Demon Princes, Malagate maintains
a discrete and respectable identity within the Oikumene
and, if whispers are correct, occupies a prestigious position
on one of the major worlds. . . .

Alphanor became a misty pale disk, mingled with the stars. Within
the ship the four men settled into an uneasy accommodation. Kelle
and Warweave startled a quiet conversation. Detteras stared for-
ward into star-spattered emptiness. Gersen lounged to the side,
watching the three men.

One of them-not completely a man, or better, a simulated
man-was Malagate the Woe. Which?

Gersen thought he knew.

There was still no certainty in his mind; his conjecture was
based on indications, probabilities, suppositions. Malagate, for his
part, must still feel secure in his incognito. He had no reason to
suspect Gersen's objective; he must still consider Gersen no more
than an aquisitive locater out to drive as hard a bargain as he could.
So much the better, thought Gersen, if it would help him to a sure
identification. He wanted two things only: the freedom of Pallis
Atwrode, and the death of Malagate. And, of course, of Hildemar
Dasce. If Pallis Atwrode were dead-so much the worse for Dasce.

Surreptitiously Gersen watched his suspect. Was this man Mal-
agate? Frustrating to be so close to his goal. Malagate, of course,
had his own plans. Behind the human skull worked thought patterns
incommensurable to his own, moving toward a goal still obscure.

Gersen could define at least three areas of uncertainty in the
situation. First, did Malagate still carry weapons or have access to
weapons previously concealed aboard the ship? A possibility, al-

THE STAR KING 135

though he might be relying entirely on the hidden tanks of anaes-
thetic gas.

Second, were either or both of the other men his accomplices?
Again a possibility, but distinctly less strong.

Third, and a less simple set of circumstances: What would hap-
pen when the ship reached Dasce's dead star? Here again variables
piled on variables. Did Malagate know of Dasce's hideaway? If so,
would he recognize it on sight? The answers here were both Prob-
ably yes.

The question then would be, how to surprise and either capture
or kill Hildemar Dasce without hindrance from Malagate.

Gersen reached a decision. Detteras had urged the need for
amicability. One thing was sure: amicability would be sternly tested
before long.

Time passed; a wary routine was established. Gersen chose a
propitious time and gave the body of Suthiro to space. The ship
slid effortlessly past shining stars, at astounding speed, by means
only vaguely comprehensible to the men who controlled it.

The pale of human civilization and law came to an end; at some
precise instant the ship passed Beyond and struck up and out toward
the dwindling fringes of the galaxy. Gersen kept steady if discreet
surveillance over his three shipmates, wondering who would first
show concern, anxiety, or suspicion as to the immediate destination.

This person was Kelle, though any of the three might have been
muttering together out of Gersen's hearing. "Where the devil are
we headed?" Kelle inquired peevishly. "This is no area to attract a
locater; we're practically in intergalactic space."

Gersen took up a relaxed position. "I have not been altogether
candid with you three gentlemen."

Three faces turned swiftly, three pairs of eyes bored in at him.

"What do you mean?" grated Detteras,

"It is not a serious matter. I have been compelled to make a
detour. After I perform a certain errand, we will proceed with our
original plans." He raised his hand as Detteras took a deep breath.
"It serves no purpose to admonish me; the situation is unavoidable."

Warweave spoke in an icy voice: "What is this 'situation'?"

"I'll be glad to explain, and I'm sure all of you will appreciate
my predicament. First of all, I seem to have made an enemy of a
well-known criminal. He is known as Malagate the Woe." Gersen
glanced from face to face. "Doubtless you all have heard of him;

'I HE DEMON PRINCES

136

he is one of the Demon Princes. The day before we left one of his
lieutenants, a creature named Hildemar Dasce, kidnaped a young
woman I happen to be interested in and conveyed her to a private
world. I feel obligated to this young woman; she is suffering
through no fault other own, but merely from Malagate's desire to
punish or intimidate me. I believe I have located Dasce's planet; I
plan to rescue this young woman, and I hope for your cooperation."

Detteras spoke in a voice thick with rage. "Why could you
not have told us of your plans before we left? You insisted on leav-
ing, you forced us to break our engagements at great inconve-
nience-"

Gersen said mildly, "You have some cause for resentment, but,
since mv own time is limited, I thought it best to combine the two
projects." He grinned as Detteras' neck swelled in new fury. "With
luck, this business will not take long, and \\e will be on our way
without delay."

Kelle said meditatively, "The kidnaper has conveyed the young
woman to a world in this vicinity?"
"I think so. I hope so."

"And you expect our help in rescuing this young woman?"
"Only in a passive sense. I merely ask that you don't interfere
with my plans."

"Suppose that the kidnaper resents your intrusion. Suppose that
he kills you."

"The possibility exists. But I have the advantage of surprise. He
must feel completely secure, and probably I will have no great trou-
ble overpowering him."

"Overpowering him?" inquired Wanveave, delicately sardonic.
"Overpowering or killing him."

At this moment the Jarnell kicked out, the ship whined down
into ordinary velocities. Ahead glowed a dim red star. If it were
double, its companion was yet invisible.

Gersen said, "As I say, surprise is my most important asset, so
therefore I must ask that none of you through inadvertence or mal-
ice use the radio." Gersen already had disabled the radio, but he
saw no reason to put Malagate on his guard. "I'll explain my plans
so that there can be no misunderstanding. First, I'll bring the ship
close enough to inspect the surface of the planet, but far enough
out to avoid radar detection. If my theories are correct and I locate
Dasce's habitation, I'll go to the far side of the world, approach the

THE STAR KING 137

surface, and land as close to Dasce's dwelling as feasible. Then I'll
take the platform flyer and do what must be done. The three of
you need only wait till I return; then we shall be once more on our
way to Teehalt's planet. I know I can count on your cooperation,
because I naturally shall take the monitor filament with me and
hide it somewhere before I confront Hildemar Dasce. If I am killed,
the filament will be lost. Naturally I will need the weapons which
are now in the security locker, but I see no reason for objection on
your part."

No one spoke. Gersen, looking from one to another, studying
most intently the face of his suspect, laughed inwardly. Malagate
was posed with a maddening dilemma. If he should interfere and
by some means warn Dasce, then Gersen might well be killed and
Malagate's hopes of acquiring Teehalt's planet dashed. Would he
trade Dasce for the planet? Gersen was certain of his decision; Mal-
agate was notoriously callous.

Detteras heaved a deep sigh. "Gersen, you're a subtle man.
You've put us in a position where, for motives of sweet reason, we
are forced to do your bidding,"

"I assure you that my motives are irreproachable."

"Yes, yes, the damsel in distress. All very well; we ourselves
would be criminals to deny her the chance of rescue. My exasper-
ation is not at your goals-if you have told us the truth-but at
your lack of candor."

With nothing to lose, Gersen became humble. "Yes, perhaps I
should have explained more carefully. But I am accustomed to
working by myself. In any event, the situation is now as I have
described it. Do I have the cooperation of you all?"

"Humph," said Wanveave. "We have little choice, as you are
perfectly well aware."

"Mr. Kelle?" asked Gersen.

Kelle inclined his head.

"Mr. Detteras?"

"As Wanveave points out, we have no choice."

"In that case I will proceed with my plans. The world on which
we are to land, incidentally, is a dead star rather than a planet."

"Does not excessive gravity make habitation inconvenient?"
asked Kelle.

"We'll know very shortly."

Wanveave turned away, went to look out at the red dwarf. The

I HP DEMON PRINCES

dark companion had now become visible, a large brown-gray disk,
three times the diameter of Alphanor, mottled and reticulated in
black and umber. Gersen was pleased to find surrounding space rich
in detritus; the radar screen indicated dozens of minuscule plane-
toids and moonlets in orbits about each star. He could approach
the dead star boldly with small fear of detection. A momentary shift
into mtersplit braked the ship, another brought it to a state of lazy
drifting a quarter-million miles above the now looming mass.

The surface seemed dim and featureless, with vast areas covered
by what looked like oceans of chocolate-colored dust. The outline
of the world was sharp and stark against the black of space, indi-
cating a sparse atmosphere. Gersen went to the macroscope, in-
spected the surface. The world's relief leapt into perspective,
though the terrain still was hardly rugged. Chains of volcanic
mountains netted the surface, there was a mesh of rifts and cre-
vasses, a number of ancient isolated plutonic buttes, hundreds of
volcanos, some active, others dead or quiescent.

Gersen set crossbars on a short sharp peak at the demarcation
between day and night, the ob)ect seemed not to move, nor to alter
its position in relation to the line of darkness: apparently the world
held a constant face to its companion. In such case, Dasce's dwelling
would almost certainly be on the bright face, probably near the
equator, at the longitude directly under the sun. He scrutinized the
region carefully, under high magnification. The area was large;

there were dozens of volcanic craters, large and small.

Gersen searched for an hour. Warweave, Kelle and Detteras
stood watching him with varying degrees of impatience and sar-
donic dislike.

Gersen reviewed his logic; it seemed to hang together. The red
dwarf had been listed on a well-used page in Dasce's Directory, it
was found within the requisite ellipsoidal shell; it had a dark star
companion. This must be the star And, by every likelihood, Dasce's
crater must be located somewhere within the warm sunlit area be-
low.

An odd formation attracted his attention, a square plateau, with
five mountain ranges radiating like the fingers of a hand. A phrase
of the Melnoy Heights Imp occurred to him. "Thumbnail Gulch."
At fullest magnification Gersen examined the area corresponding
to the thumbnail Certainly there was a small crater here. Certainly
it seemed to show a slightly different color, a slightly different tex-

THE DIRKING

139

ture than the others. And there where the sunlight struck glancingly
on the inside wall, a glint^ And below, the faint shine of white3

Gersen reduced the magnification, studied the surrounding ter-
rain. Even though Dasce might not detect approaching ships at
planetary distances, his radar might w^rn him of ships approaching
for a landing. If he dropped down on the far side of the world and
then slanted in behind the hon/on, to land behind the plateau
which formed the palm of the hand, he might well be able to sur-
prise Dasce.

He fed the necessary information into the course computer,
engaged the autopilot. The ship veered and began its descent.

Kelle, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, "Well? Have you
found what you were looking for?"

"I think so," said Gersen. "I can't be certain."

"If you are careless enough to be killed," said Kelle, "you put
us to enormous inconvenience "

Gersen nodded. "This is essentially what I meant to convey to
you a short while ago. I am sure that you'll help me, at least pas-
sively."

"We have already agreed to this."

The dark star loomed below and the ship landed on a shelf of
naked brown stone a quarter mile from a heave of low black hills.
The stone was the texture of brick; the surrounding plain displayed
a surface resembling dried brown mud.

Overhead the red dwarf bulked large; the ship cast a dense black
shadow. A thin wind blew small curls of dust across the plain, sifting
a greenish-blue powder into long herringbone drifts.

Detteras said thoughtfully, "You know-, I think it only fair that
you leave the filament here. Why victimize us2"

"I don't plan to be killed, Mr. Detteras."

"Your plans might go awry."

"If so, your troubles will seem very trivial in comparison to
mine. May I have my weapons2"

The locker was opened; the three watched warily while Gersen
armed himself. He looked from face to face. In the mind of one of
these men feverish plots were hatching. Would he act as Gersen
anticipated-which was to say, not act? Here was a chance Gersen
must take. Suppose he were wrong, suppose this were not Dasce's
planet and Malagate knew it; suppose Malagate, through some in-
tuition, suspected Gersen's goal. He might be ready to sacrifice his

THE DEMON PRINCES

140

hopes of acquiring Teehalt's world in order to maroon Gersen out
here on this dark star. There was a precaution Gersen could take;

it would be foolish for him not to do so. He stepped back into the
engine room and detached a small but vital component from the
energy reactor, one which could be refabricated, if necessary, with
ingenuity and patience. He tucked it into his pouch, along with the
filament. Warweave, standing in the doorway, observed the act but
made no comment.

Gersen dressed himself in an airsuit, left the ship. Opening the
forward hatch, he winched down the little platform flyer, loaded
aboard a spare airsuit and spare tanks of oxygen, and without fur-
ther ceremony set out for Thumbnail Gulch, skimming low to the
ground, the thin atmosphere keening over the windshield.

The landscape was odd even to one accustomed to the terrain
of strange planets: a dark spongy surface in varying shades of ma-
roon, brown and gray, marred here and there by volcanic cones and
low wallowing black hills. This might be true star stuff-clinker
remaining after the fires had died-or it might be sediment swept
up from space. Most likely both. Gersen wondered, did the aware-
ness that he was traversing the surface of a dead star contribute to
the sense of weirdness and unreality? The thin atmosphere allowed
absolute clarity of vision; the horizons were far, the panorama
seemed endless. And overhead there was the glowering sphere of
the red dwarf, rilling an eighth of the sky.

The ground shouldered up to become the plareau which com-
prised the palm of the hand; a titanic flow of lava. Gersen swerved
to the right. Far ahead he could see a line of black hills lying across
the landscape like the back of a monstrous petrified triceratops.
This was the "thumb" at the end of which rose Dasce's volcano.
Gersen flew low to the ground, taking advantage of all possible
cover, swerving in and out, close to the wall of the plateau, and so
approached the line of jagged black peaks.

Slowly, cautiously, he eased up the tumbled slope, Jets muffled
by the thin air to no more than a mutter. Dasce might have installed
detectors along these slopes-but, on second thought, it seemed
hardly likely. He would consider the effort superfluous. Why attack
by land when a torpedo from space would be easier?

Gersen gained the ridge. There, two miles ahead, was the vol-
cano which he hoped would be Dasce's hideaway. Off to the side,
down on the plain which continued on and on indefinitely, was the

THE STAR KING 141

most welcome sight of Gersen's experience, a sight which brought
tears of sheer savage heart-rending joy to his eyes: a small space-
boat. His hypothesis had been correct: here was Thumbnail Gulch
in all certainty; here would be found Hildemar Dasce. And Pallis
Atwrode?

Gersen landed the platform and continued on foot, taking ad-
vantage of all possible cover, avoiding approaches where detectors
would be most likely, even though caution seemed no more than a
formality. Destiny could not bring him this far only to deal him
failure! He mounted the slopes: mingled basalt, obsidian and tuff.
Reaching the lip of the crater, he peered over-out on a webbed
dome constructed of thin cables and transparent film, held dis-
tended by air pressure. The crater was not large: fifty yards in di-
ameter and almost perfectly cylindrical, the walls being formed of
striated volcanic glass.

At the bottom of the crater Dasce had made a careless attempt
at landscaping. There were a pond of brackish water, a clump of
palm trees, a tangle of rank vines. Gersen looked an implacable
god, a god of vengeance.

In the center of the crater was a cage, and in the cage sat a
naked man: tall, haggard, his face a ghastly wreck, his body crooked,
marked with a hundred welts. Gersen remembered Suthiro's expla-
nation of how Dasce lost his eyelids. Looking again, he remem-
bered the photographs in Dasce's parlor: this man was the subject
of the photographs.

Gersen looked elsewhere. Directly below was a pavilion of black
cloth, a series of connected tents. There was no sign of Hildemar
Dasce. Entrance to the crater was apparently by way of a tunnel
leading through the wall of the volcano.

Gersen moved carefully around the lip, looked down over the
slope. The porous brown-black plain extended limitlessly off in
three directions. Nearby rested the spaceboat, seeming no larger
than a toy in the clarity of the atmosphere, on the endlessness of
the plain.

Gersen turned his attention back to the dome. With a knife he
cut a small slit in the film, then settled himself to watch.

Ten minutes passed before the pressure drop activated a warn-
ing signal. Out from one of the tents charged Hildemar Dasce.
Gersen saw him with savage delight. He wore loose white panta-
loons and no more. His torso, stained a faded purple, was ribbed

142

THE DEMON PRINCES

with muscle. He stared up with lidless eyes, the blue cheeks bloom-
ing from the vermilion face.

Dasce marched across the crater floor. The prisoner within the
cage followed him attentively with his gaze.

Dasce vanished from sight. Gersen hid in a crevice, Dasce pres-
ently emerged on the plain in an airsuit, carrying a case. He
mounted the crater wall with strong easy strides, passing close by

Gersen.

Dasce put down the case, brought forth a projector, swept a
beam of radiation over the surface of the dome. The escaping air,
evidently dosed with a fluorescent agent, glowed yellow. Dasce
went to the cut and bent over it, and Gersen felt his instant sus-
picion. He straightened up and looked all around. Gersen crouched

back out of sight.

When he looked once more, Dasce was at work mending the
rip with cement and a new strip of film. The entire operation re-
quired but a minute. Then Dasce replaced the unused material and
the projector into the case, straightened up. He made another care-
ful scrutiny of rim, slope and plain; then, suspicion blunted, he

started back down the slope.

Gersen rose from his hiding place and followed, not fifty feet

behind.

Dasce, Jumping from rock to rock down the slope, failed to

look back-until Gersen dislodged a rock which bounded ahead and
past. Dasce stopped, turned sharply. Gersen was out of sight behind
a jut of rock, grinning in a kind of mad glee.

Dasce proceeded. Gersen followed close behind. At the base of
the slope a sound, a vibration, alarmed Dasce. Once more he turned
to look up-slope-directly at the figure leaping down on him. Ger-
sen laughed to see the loose pale mouth open in startlement, and
then he struck. Dasce toppled, rolled, bounded to his feet, started
to run awkwardly for the airlock; Gersen fired at the back of one
of the rangy thighs. Dasce fell.

Gersen seized him by the ankles, dragged him into the airlock,
slammed the outer door. Dasce struggled and kicked, the red and
blue face hideously contorted. Gersen pointed the projac, but Dasce
merely tried to kick it from his grasp. Gersen fired again, numbing
Dasce's other leg. Dasce lay still, glaring like a boar at bay. With
a roll of tape brought hopefully for such a purpose, Gersen lashed
Dasce's ankles- Then warily he seized the right arm, bent it back

THE STAR KING 143

and around. Dasce was forced over on his face. Presently, after a
struggle, his arms were taped behind his back. The lock mechanism
automatically had filled the space with air; Gersen now removed
the vitrine globe from Dasce's head.

"W^e renew our acquaintance," said Gersen in a voice of
hushed, reverent joy.

Dasce said nothing.

Gersen dragged him out into the floor of the crater. The pris-
oner jumped to his feet, pressed himself to the bars of the cage,
stared at Gersen as if he were an archangel with wings, trumpet
and aureole.

Gersen assured himself as to the security of Dasce's bonds, ran
over to the tent, projac ready for an unexpected servitor or com-
rade-in-arms of Dasce's. The prisoner looked after him with
astounded, unbelieving- eyes.

Pallis Atwrode lay huddled under a limp dirty sheet, face to the
wall. There was no one else. Gersen touched her on the shoulder,
and fascinatedly watched her flesh crawl. His-exultation became
mingled with horror, to produce a queer stomach-twisting emotion
such as he had never before even imagined. "Pallis," he said, "Pal-
lis-it's Kirth Gersen." The words reached her, muffled by the
globe which Gersen still wore; she only crouched and huddled more
tightly. Gerson rolled her over; she lay with her eyes shut- Her
face, once so gay and impudent and charming, was bleak and aus-
tere. "Pallis," called Gersen, "open your eyes. It's Kirth Gersen!
You're safe!"

She shook her head slightly, held her eyes tight shut.

Gersen turned away. At the door to the tent he looked back.
Her eyes were wide open, staring in wonder, but she instantly
closed them again.

Gersen left her, investigated the entire crater, reassured himself
that no one else was present, and returned to Dasce.

"Nice place you've got here, Dasce," said Gersen in a conver-
sational tone. "A little hard to find when your friends want to drop

in.

"How did you find me?" said Dasce in a guttural voice. "No
one knows of this place."
"Except your boss."
"He doesn't know."
"How do you think I found out?"

144

THE DEMON PRINCES

Dasce was silent. Gersen went to the cage, unbarred the door,
motioned to the prisoner, wondering whether the man's mind had

also failed him. "Come out."

The prisoner limped haltingly forward. "Who are you?"

"No matter. You are free."

"Free?" The man worked his loose jaws over the word, turned
to look toward Dasce. He spoke in a reverent voice. "What of-

himr

"I shall kill him presently."

The man said softly, "This must be a dream."

Gersen returned to Pallis, She was sitting on the bed, the sheet
clutched around her. Her eyes were open. She looked at Gersen,
rose to her feet, fainted. Gersen lifted her, carried her out to the
crater floor. The erstwhile captive stood looking at Dasce from a
respectful distance. Gersen spoke to him. "WTiat is your name?"

The man looked momentarily bewildered. He knit his brows as
if trying to remember. "I am Robin Rampold," he said at last in a
soft hushed voice. "And you-you are his enemy?"

"I am his executioner. His nemesis."

"It is a marvel!" breathed Rampold. "After so long that I cannot
remember the beginning.. . ." Tears began to course down his
cheeks. He looked at the cage, walked over to it, studied it, then
looked back at Gersen. "I know this place well. Each crack, each
crevice, each fleck and crystal of the metal." His voice faded. Sud-
denly he asked, "What is the year?"

"1524."

Rampold seemed to become smaller. "I did not know it was so
long; I have forgotten so much." He looked up toward the dome.
"There is no day or night here-nothing but the red sun. When
he is gone, there are no events. ... Seventeen years I have stood in
that cage. And now I am out." He walked over to Dasce, stood
looking down at him. Gersen followed. Rampold said, "Long, long
ago we were two different people. I taught him a lesson. I made
him suffer. The memory is all that has kept me alive."

Dasce laughed a harsh cackle. "I have sought to repay you."
He glanced up toward Gersen. "Best kill me while you can, or I

will do the same to you."

Gersen stood reflecting. Dasce must die. There would be no

compunction when the time came. But behind the red forehead was
knowledge which Gersen needed. How to extract this knowledge?

THE STAR KING 145

Torture? Gersen suspected that Dasce would laugh while being
torn limb from limb. Trickery? Subtlety? He looked speculatively
down into the coarse red and blue face. Dasce did not flinch.

Gersen turned to Rampold. "Can you navigate Dasce's space-
boat?"

Rampold sadly shook his head.

"Then I suppose you must come with me."

Rampold spoke in a tremulous voice. "WTiat of-/ww?"

"Eventually I'll kill him."

Rampold said in a low voice, "Give him to me."

"No." Gersen returned to the inspection of Dasce. Somehow
he must be made to reveal the identity of Malagate. A direct ques-
tion would be worse than useless. "Dasce," he asked, "why did you
bring Pallis Atwrode out here?"

"She was too beautiful to kill," said Dasce easily.

"And why should you kill her?"

"I enjoy killing beautiful women."

Gersen grinned. Dasce possibly hoped to provoke him. "You
may or may not live to regret your sins."

"Who sent you here?" asked Dasce.

"Someone who knew."

Dasce slowly shook his head. "There is only one, and he never
sent you."

So much for that ploy, thought Gersen. Dasce would not easily
be deceived. Well then. He would take Dasce aboard the ship. The
situation was certain to produce some sort of reaction.

Now a new problem. He did not dare leave Robin Rampold
alone with Dasce, not even for long enough to fetch the platform.
Rampold might kill Dasce. Or Dasce might command Rampold to
release him. After seventeen years of degradation, Rampold might
be sufficiently under Dasce's influence to obey. And Pallis At-
wrode-what of her?

He turned to find her standing in the doorway, the sheet
clutched around her, watching him with a wide troubled gaze. He
approached her and she shrank back. Gersen was uncertain whether
or not she recognized him. "Pallis-it's Kirth Gersen."

She nodded somberly. "I know." She looked at the prone form
of Hildemar Dasce. "You've tied him up," she said in a voice of
troubled wonder.

"That's the least of his worries."

THE DEMON PRINC ES

146

She looked at him wanly Gersen found himself unable to
fathom her thoughts. "You're-you're not his friend2"

Gersen felt an entirely new type of sickness. "No I'm not his
friend Of course not. Did he say so^"

"He said .   he said    " She turned to stare m perplexity at

Dasce

"Don't believe anything he told you " He looked into her face,
wondering as to the extent of her confusion and shock "Are you-

all right^"

She refused to meet his eyes Gersen said gently, "I'm taking
you back to Avente You're safe now " She nodded stonily If she
would only evince some emotion' Relief-tears-even reproaches'

Gersen sighed, turned away The problem still remained how
to convey all of them to the platform He dared leave neither Pallas
nor Rampold alone with Dasce, he had en)oyed domination over
them both too long

Gersen replaced the vitrme globe over Dasce's head and
dragged him through the tunnel, out upon the plain, where the two
within could not see him.

Jets roaring at full power, the overloaded platform lurched slug-
gishly around the plateau, blowing up a fan of dust which settled
with startling rapidity in the thin atmosphere. Ahead stood the
spaceship, minute against the sweep of the vast horizon Gersen
landed close beside the entrance port. Hand weapon within easy
reach, he climbed the accommodation ladder Inside, Attel Mala-
gate had watched his approach, had seen the cargo Malagate could
not know what Dasce had told Gersen. He must be taut with in-
decision Dasce, who would recognize the ship, must suspect but
could not be sure that Malagate was aboard.

The airiock thudded shut, the pumps throbbed, the inner door
swung open Gersen stepped forward Kelle, Detteras, Warweave
sat at various quarters of the room. They looked at him without
friendliness. No one made a move

Gersen unfastened the head globe "I'm back "

"So we see," said Detteras.

"I've been successful," said Gersen "I've got a captive with me
Hildemar Dasce A word of warning to you This man is a brutal
murderer He is desperate. I intend to hold him under rigid con-
ditions I ask that none of you interfere or have anything to do with

THE STARKI\G 147

this man The other two persons are a man Dasce has kept penned
in a cage for seventeen years, and a young woman whom Dasce
recently kidnaped and whose mind may ha\e suffered in conse-
quence She shall use my cabin I shall keep Dasce in the cargo
hold The other man, Robin Rampold, will no doubt be happy for
the use of a settee "

"This voyage becomes stranger by the hour," said Warweave

Detteras rose impatiently to his feet "Why do you bring this
man Dasce aboard3 I'm surprised you haven't killed him "

"Consider me squeamish, if you like "

Detteras gave a bark of sour laughter "Let us proceed, we are
anxious to get this trip over as fast as possible "

Gersen sent Rampold into the ship with Pallis Atwrode, then
slid the platform under the winch, lifted the platform with Dasce
aboard into the cargo hold, where he removed Dasce's head globe
Dasce glared at him wordlessly

"You may see someone aboard you recognize," said Gersen
"He doesn't want his identity made known to his two colleagues,
as it would interfere with his plans You will be wise to keep a still
tongue in your head "

Dasce said nothing. Gersen secured him with exceeding care
At the center of a long cable he made a loop which he knotted and
clamped tightly around Dasce's neck I he ends of the cable he
made fast at opposite sides of the hold, stretching the cable taut
Dasce was now constricted in the middle of the hold, the cable
extending past him to right and left, the ends ten feet out of his
reach to either side Even with hands free Dasce could not work
himself loose Gersen now cut the tapes binding Dasce's arms and
legs Dasce instantly struck out Gersen dodged aside, clubbed
Dasce with the butt of his weapon Dasce reeled over senseless
Gersen slipped off Dasce's airsuit, searched the pockets ot the white
pantaloons, found nothing He made a final check of the bonds,
then returned to the main saloon, bolting the hatch behind him

Rampold had divested himself of his airsuit and sat quietly in a
corner Detteras and Kelle had done the same for Pallis Atwrode,
and had helped her into spare clothing She sat now to the side of
the cabin drinking coffee, her face wan and pinched, her eyes dark
and musing Kelle cast a glance of disapprobation toward Gersen
"Ihis is Miss Atwrode-the receptionist at the department WT-iat
in the name of heaven is your connection with her^'

14S TI IE DFMON PRINCES

"The answer is perfectly simple," said Gersen. "I met her the
first day I visited the university, and asked her out for the evening.
For reasons of sheer spite or malice, or so I suppose, Hildemar
Dasce struck me down and kidnaped her. I felt it was my duty to
rescue her, and I've done so."

Kelle smiled thinly. "I suppose we can't fault you for this."

Warweave spoke in the driest of voices- "Presumably we will
now make for our original destination."

"That is certainly my intention."

"I suggest then that we proceed."

"Yes," grumbled Detteras. "The sooner we put a term to this
fantastic voyage the better."

The dark star and its feeble red companion became one with space.
In the hold Hildemar Dasce, recovering consciousness, swore in a
low vile mutter, testing his bonds with insensate ferocity. He tore
and twisted at the clamps till the skin peeled from his fingers, he
plucked at the metal strands in the cable till his fingernails broke.
Then he tried a new procedure. Thrusting against the floor, lunging
from side to side, he tried to pull the cable loose from where it was
fastened at the walls: first to the right, then to the left. He suc-
ceeded only in bruising his neck. Assured that he was in fact help-
less, though hands and feet were free, he relaxed, panting. His mind
seethed with emotion. How had Gersen located the dark star7 No
one alive knew the location but himself. And Malagate. Dasce re-
viewed the occasions on which he had circumvented, cheated, or
failed Malagate, and wondered if one of these occasions might not
have come home to roost.

In the saloon, Gersen sat brooding on a settee. The three men
from the university-one of whom was not a man-stood together
far forward. There was Kelle: suave, fastidious, compact in phy-
sique, Warweave: ectomorphic, saturnine; Detteras: large-bodied,
restless, moody. Gersen eyed his suspect, probing his every act,
word, and gesture for corroboration, for some sign to provide the
absolute assurance he needed. Pallis Atwrode sat quietly nearby, lost
in reverie. From time to time her face twitched, her fingers
clenched into her palms. There would be no qualms about the kill-
ing of Hildemar Dasce. Robin Rampold stood listlessly at the mi-
crofilm library, looking at the index, stroking his long bony chin.

He turned, glanced toward Gersen, sidled across the room wolf-

7HI- S/^A/\C,

149

ishly. In a voice so polite as to seem servile he asked, "He-is he
alive?"

"For the moment."

Rampold hesitated, opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally
he asked diffidently, "What do you plan for him2"

"I don't know," said Gersen. "I want to make use of him."

Rampold became very earnest. He spoke in a low voice, as if
afraid that the other occupants of the saloon would hear. "Why not
put him into my charge3 Then you would be relieved of the effort
of guarding and tending him."

"No," said Gersen, "I think not."

Rampold's face became even more haggard and desperate.
"But-I must."

"You must^"

Rampold nodded. "You cannot understand For seventeen years
he has been-" He could not find words. Finally he said, "He has
been the center of my existence. He has been like a personal god.
He has provided food and dnnk and pain. Once he brought me a
kitten-a beautiful black kitten. He watched as I touched it, smiling
as if benign. This time I thwarted him. I killed the little creature,
at once. Because I knew his plan. He wanted to wait until I came
to love it, then he would kill it-torture it where I could watch. . .
Of course he made me pay."

Gersen drew a deep breath. "He has too much power over you.
I can't trust you with him."

Tears began to form m Rampold's eyes He spoke in a series
ofdis)omted sentences. "It is strange. I feel grief now. W^hat I feel
for him I cannot put into words. It goes to an extreme and beyond
and becomes almost tenderness. Substances can be so sweet that
they taste bitter, so sour that they taste salt. . . Yes, I would care
for him with great pains. I would devote the rest of my life to him."
He held out his hands "Give him to me I have nothing, or I would
repay you."

Gersen could only shake his head. "We will talk of this later."

Rampold nodded heavily, returned across the room. Gersen
looked forward to where Detteras, Kelle and Warweave continued
a desultory conversation Apparently they were agreed, tacitly or
otherwise, on a policy of disinterest toward the new passengers.
Gersen smiled grimly. He who was Malagate would not care to
confront Hildemar Dascc Dasce's temperament was not a subtle

150 THE DKMON PRINCES

one; he was as likely as not to blurt out some damaging disclosure.
Malagate would certainly try for a few quiet words of warning and
reassurance, or conceivably an opportunity to murder Dasce dis-
creetly.

The situation was unstable; sooner or later it was bound to
collapse into more truthful relationships. Gersen toyed with the
idea of precipitating the climax, perhaps by bringing Dasce into the
saloon or taking Kelle, Detteras and Warweave into the cargo hold.
... He decided to bide his time. He still carried his weapons; the
three from the university, apparently assured of his good intentions,
had not required that he restore them to the locker. Amazing,
thought Gersen: even now Malagate could have no cause to suspect
that Gersen stalked him. He would be less wary than he might be,
and, using the pretext of curiosity, might well seek to look in on
Dasce.

Vigilance, thought Gersen. It occurred to him that Robin Ram-
pold would be a useful ally in this situation. No matter what dis-
tortions and sublimations seventeen years had produced, he would
be no less alert than Gersen himself in any matter relating to Hil-
demar Dasce.

Gersen rose to his feet and went aft, through the engine room,
into the cargo hold. Dasce, making no pretense of stoic resignation,
glared at him. Gersen noted Dasce's bleeding fingers and, putting
his projac on a shelf to void the possibility of Dasce's wresting it
away from him, stepped close to check Dasce's bonds. Dasce kicked
savagely. Gersen hacked him behind the ear with the side of his
hand, and Dasce fell back. Gersen assured himself as to the clamps
which constricted the cable around Dasce's neck, then moved back,
out of his reach.

"It seems," said Gersen, "that troubles are catching up with
you."

Dasce spat at him. Gersen jumped back. "You're in a poor case
for such offensiveness."

"Fah! What more can you do to me? Do you think I fear death?
I live only out of hate."

"Rampold has asked that I give you into his care."

Dasce sneered. "He fears me until he reeks and crawls. He is
soft as honey- It was no longer gratifying to hurt him."

"I wonder how long it will take to make the same sort of man
out of you."

THE STAR KING 151

Dasce spat once more. Then he said, "Tell me how you found
my star."

"I had information."

"From whom?"

"What difference does it make?" said Gersen. He thought to
insert an idea into Dasce's mind. "You'll never have the opportunity
of paying him off."

Dasce pulled back his mouth in a hideous grin. "Who is aboard
this ship?"

Gersen made no reply. Standing back in the shadows, he
watched Dasce. He must suspect, to the point of certainty, that
Malagate was aboard. Dasce could be no less uncertain than Mal-
agate himself.

Gersen framed and discarded a half-dozen questions calculated
to trick Malagate's name from Dasce. The best were either too
clumsy or too subtle; the worst would apprise Dasce that Gersen
wanted information, and so put him on his guard,

Dasce tried to wheedle. "Come! As you say, I am helpless, at
your mercy. I am interested in learning who betrayed me."

"Who do you think it might be?"

Dasce grinned ingenuously. "I have a number of enemies. For
instance, the Sarkoy. Was it he?"

"The Sarkoy is dead."

"Dead!"

"He helped you kidnap the young woman. I poisoned him."

"Fah," spat Dasce. "Women are everywhere. Why become ex-
cited? Release me. I have wealth and I will pay you half if you tell
me who betrayed me."

"It was not Suthiro the Sarkoy."

"Tristano? Surely not Tristano. How could he know?"

"When I met Tristano he had little to say."

"Who then?"

Gersen said. "Very well, I'll tell you; why not? One of the
administrators at the Sea Province University gave me the infor-
mation."

Dasce rubbed his hand over his mouth, looked sidewise at Ger-
sen in suspicion and doubt. "Why should he do so?" he muttered.
"I can't understand any of this."

Gersen had hoped to surprise an exclamation from Dasce. He
asked, "Do you know to whom I refer?"

152

THE DEMON PRINCES

But Dasce only looked at him blankly. Gersen picked up his

projac, left the hold.

Returning to the saloon, he found conditions as before. He
signaled Robin Rampold back into the engine room. "You asked
that Dasce might be put into your charge."

Rampold eyed him in tremulous excitement. "Yes!"

"I cannot do this-but I need your help in guarding him."

"Of course!"

"Dasce is tricky. You must never enter the cargo hold."

Rampold winced in disappointment.

"Equally important, you must not allow anyone else near the
cargo hold. These men are Dasce's enemies. They might kill him."

"No, no!" exclaimed Rampold. "Dasce must not die!"

Gersen had a new thought. Malagate had ordained the death
of Pallis Atwrode for fear that unwittingly she might reveal his
identity. In her present state she posed no threat; nevertheless, she
might recover. Malagate might well wish to destroy her, if he could
do so without risk. Gersen said, "Also, you must try to guard Pallis
Atwrode, and make sure that no one disturbs her."

Rampold was less interested. "I will do what you ask."

11

From "The Avatar's Apprentice," in Scroll from the
Ninth Dimension:

Intelligence? asked Marmaduke at one of the permitted
intervals, as he attended the EMINENCE upon the Parapet-
What is intelligence?

Why, responded the EMINENCE, it is no more than a
human occupation; an activity which men put their brains
to, as a frog kicks his legs to swim; it is a standard which
men in their egotism use to measure other and perhaps
nobler races, who are thereby dumfounded.

Do you mean, REVEREND GRAY, that no living creature
other than man can share the quality of intelligence?

But ha! And why should I not ask, what is LIFE, what
is LIVING, but a disease of the primordial slime, a purulence
in the original candid mud, which culminates through cy-
cles and degrees, by distillations and sediments, in the hu-
man manifestation?

But, RF\TREND, it is known that other worlds dem-
onstrate this fact of LIFE. I allude to the jewels of Olam, as
well as the folk of the Chthonian Bog.

Witling, how have you glanced off the exact stroke of
the ESSENCE.

REVEREND, I crave your indulgence.

The way along the Parapet is not to the forward-footed.

REVEREND CRAY, I pray that my direction be denned.

Eight tones of the gong have sounded. Be content for
the nonce, and fetch the morning wine.

154 FHE DEMON PRINCES

The filament from Lugo Teehalt's monitor fed impulses into the
computer, which digested the information, combined it with the
equations describing the ship's previous position, and despatched
instructions to the autopilot which swerved the ship off and away,
on a course roughly parallel to the line between Alphanor and
Smade's Planet. Time passed Life within the ship fell into a rou-
tine Gersen, assisted by Robin Rampold, guarded the cargo hold,
though Gersen forbade Rampold entry into the hold itself. For the
first few days Hildemar Dasce evinced a brassy jocularity, alternat-
ing with earnest threats of vengeance at the hands of an agent he
refused to identify

"Ask Rampold what he thinks," said Dasce, leering from his
bright blue hdless eyes "Do you want this happening to you7"
"No," said Gersen "I don't think it's going to happen "
Occasionally Dasce demanded that Gersen answer his ques-
tions "Where are you taking me3" he would ask. "Back to Al-
phanor3"
"No "
"Where, then3"
"You'll see."

"Answer me, or by"-here Dasce swore obscene oaths-"I'll
do you worse than you've ever imagined'"

"It's a chance we have to take," said Gersen
"We3" asked Dasce softly. "Who is 'we'?"
"Don't you know3"

"Why doesn't he come in here3 Tell him I want to talk to him."
"Any time he wants he can come in "

At which Dasce fell silent Goad, prod, pry as he might, Gersen
never could induce Dasce to utter a name. Nor did any of the three
from the university show interest in Dasce As for Pallis Atwrode,
her detachment at first was profound For hours she sat, looking
out at the passing stars She ate, slowly, hesitantly, without hunger,
she slept for hours on end, curled into as tight a ball as possible
Then gradually she returned to the present, and at times became
something like the carefree Pallis Atwrode of old.

The overcrowded confines of the ship made it impossible for
Gersen to talk to her in private, which, in his estimation, was as
well The situation, with Dasce in the hold and Artel Malagate in
the forward cabin, was already strained to an almost unbearable
degree of taucness

THE STAR KI\G

More time passed The ship traversed new regions, and regions
after regions where no man had passed but one Lugo Teehalt To
all sides hung stars by the thousand, by the million streaming,
swarming, flowing, glaring, glittering, shirting silently one across
the other, and the other across another still-worlds of infinite va-
riety, populated by who knows whom, each drawing the eye, fixing
the imagination, evoking wonder, each world an urge, a temptation,
a mystery, each a promise of unseen sights, unknown knowledge,
unsensed beauty

Eventually a warm golden-white star showed dead ahead. The
monitor panel blinked alternately green, red, green, red. I'he au-
topilot choked down the energy output, the split began to collapse,
the ship set up a weird subsound as eddies and disturbances and
backdrafts of a substance which could only be called space sucked
at the ship's fabric

The split collapsed with a slight shock, the ship slid serenely,
like a boat drifting on a pond The golden-white sun hung close at
hand, controlling three planets One was orange, small and near, a
fuming cinder Another swung in a far orbit, a gloomy dismal world,
the color of tears The third, sparkling green and blue and white,
revolved close below the ship

Gersen, Warweave, Detteras and Kelle, antagonisms temporar-
ily set aside, bent over the macroscope The world was clearly beau-
tiful, with a thick moist atmosphere, ample oceans, a varied
topography

Gersen was the first to stand away from the screen The time
had come to hone his vigilance to its sharpest edge Warweave
stood back next "I'm completely satisfied The planet is nonpareil
Mr. Gersen has not deceived us "

Kelle looked at him in surprise "You think it unnecessary to
land3"

"I think it unnecessary But I am willing to land " He moved
across the cabin, stood near the shelf to which was affixed Suthiro's
switch. Gersen tensed Is it to be Warweave3 But Warweave passed
on Gersen released his pent breath Of course the time was not
yet To profit from the gas, Malagate must somehow protect him-
self from its influence

Kelle said, "I certainly believe that we should land, at least to
make biometrics In spite of its appearance the world may be com-
pletely unfriendly "

156

THE DEMON PRINCES

Detteras said doubtfully, "It's rather awkward, with captives and
invalids and passengers. The sooner back to Alphanor the better."

Kelle snapped in a voice as sharp as any Gersen had heard him
use. "You talk like a jackass. All this way, merely to turn tail and
run home? Obviously we must land, if only to walk out on the

planet for five minutes!"

"Yes," said Uetteras glumly. "No doubt you're right."

"Very well," said Warweave. "Down we go."

Gersen wordlessly swung the autopilot toggle over into the
landing program. The horizons extended, the landscape became
distinct: green parkland, low rolling hills, a chain of lakes to the
north, a range of snow-clad crags to the south. The ship settled to
the ground; the roar of exhaled energy ceased. There was now so-
lidity underfoot, utter quiet except for the ticking of the automatic
environment analyser, which presently flashed three green lights:

the optimum verdict.

There was a short wait for pressure equalization. Gersen and
the three men from the university donned exterior clothing, rubbed
allergen inhibitor on face, hands and neck, adjusted inhalators

against bacteria and spores.

Pallis Atwrode looked from the observation ports in innocent
wonder; Robin Rampold sidled uneasily along the back bulkhead
like a lean old gray rat, making tentative motions, as if he wished
to alight but did not dare leave the security of the saloon.

Air from outside flooded the boat, smelling fresh, damp, clean.
Gersen went to the port, swung it open, made a polite if ironic

gesture. "Gentlemen-your planet."

Warweave was the first to step down to the ground, with Det-
teras close behind, then Kelle. Gersen followed more slowly.

The monitor had brought them to a spot hardly a hundred
yards from Lugo Teehalt's landing. Gersen thought the landscape
even more entrancing than the photographs had suggested. The air
was cool, scented with a vaguely herbaceous freshness. Across the
valley, beyond a stand of tall dark trees, the hills rose, massive yet
gentle, marked by outcrops of worn gray rock, the hollows holding
copses of soft foliage. Beyond rose a single great billowing cloud

castle, bright in the noon sunlight.

Across the meadow, on the far side of the river, Gersen saw
w^at appeared to be a growth of flowering plants, and knew them
to be the dryads. They stood at the edge of the forest, swaying on

THE STAR KING 157

supple gray limbs, their movements easy and graceful. Magnificent
creatures, thought Gersen, beyond a doubt-but somehow they
were a-well, a discordant element. A perverse notion-but there
it was. On their own planet they seemed out of place' Exotic ele-
ments in a scene as dear and beloved as-as what? Earth? Gersen
felt no conscious emotional attachment for Earth. Still, the world
most nearly like this was Earth-or, more accurately, those occa-
sional areas of Earth which somehow had evaded the artifices and
modifications wrought by generations of man. This world was fresh,
natural, unmodified. Except for the dryads-a jarring note-this
might be Old Earth, Earth of the Golden Age, the Earth of natural
man. . . .

Gersen felt a small exhilarating shock of enlightenment. Here
resided the basic charm of the world: its near-identity to the envi-
ronment in which man had evolved. Old Earth must have known
many such smiling valleys; the feel of such landscapes permeated
the entire fabric of the human psyche. Other worlds of the Oiku-
mene might be pleasant and comfortable, but none were Old Earth;

none of them were Home. .. . For a fact, mused Gersen, here is
where I would like to build a cottage, with an old-fashioned garden,
an orchard in the meadow, a rowboat tied to the riverbank. Dreams,
idle yearning for the unattainable . . . but dreams and yearning
which necessarily must affect every man. Gersen blinked at the im-
pact of a new thought. Suddenly attentive, he watched the others.

Warweave stood by the riverbank frowning down into the wa-
ter. Now he turned and shot a suspicious glance toward Gersen.

Kelle, beside a clump of ferns as high as his shoulder, looked
first up to the head of the valley with its great white spire of cu-
mulus, then down toward the far open parkland. The forest at either
side of the valley formed an aisle, continuing till it melted and
blurred into haze.

Detteras paced slowly along the meadow, hands behind his
back. Now he bent, scooped up a handful of sod, worked it between
his fingers, let the soil sift and fall. He turned to stare at the dryads.
Kelle did the same.

The dryads, gliding slowly on supple legs, moved out of the
shadows, toward the pool. Their fronds shone blue and magenta,
copper-russet, gold-ocher. Intelligent beings?

Gersen turned once more to watch the three men. Kelle
scowled faintly. W^arweave inspected the dryads with obvious ad-

15S

THE DK.MON PRINCKS

miration. Detteras suddenly put his hands to his mouth and shrilled
an ear-piercing whistle, to which the dryads seemed oblivious.

There was a sound from the ship; Gersen turned to see Pallis
Atwrode descending the ladder. She raised her hands in the sun-
light, drew a deep breath. "What a beautiful valley," she murmured.
"Kirth, what a beautiful valley." She wandered slowly away, pausing
now and then to look around her in delight.

Gersen, on sudden thought, turned and ran back up the ladder
into the ship. Rampold-where was Rampold? Gersen hastened
back to the cargo hold. Rampold had already entered. Gersen ad-
vanced cautiously, listened.

Dasce's voice came gruff, hoarse, full of a detestable exultation.
"Rampold, do as I say. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Hildemar."

"Go to the bulkhead, unloose the cable. Hurry now."

Gersen moved to where he could look unobserved into the
hold. Rampold stood not four feet from Dasce, staring down into

the red face.

"Do you hear me? Hurry, or I will cause you such grief, you

will bewail the day you were born."

Rampold laughed softly, quietly. "Hildemar, I have asked Kirth
Gersen for you. I told him I would cherish you like a son, I would
feed you the most nutritious foods, the most invigorating drink. ..
I do not think he will give you to me, so I must gulp down just a
taste of the joy I have promised myself for seventeen years. I am
now about to beat you to death. This is the first opportunity-"

Gersen stepped forward. "Sorry, Rampold, to interrupt."

Rampold uttered an inarticulate cry of utter desolation, turned,
ran from the hold. Gersen followed him. In the engine room he
made a careful adjustment of his projac, thrust it into a holster,
returned to the cargo hold. Dasce bared his teeth like a wild animal.

"Rampold has no patience." He went to the bulkhead, began
to unfasten the cable.

"What are you going to do?" Dasce demanded.

"The orders are that you shall be executed."

Dasce stared. "What orders?"

"You fool," said Gersen. "Can't you guess what's happened?
I'm taking your old position." One side of the cable fell free. Ger-
sen crossed the room. "Don't move unless you want me to break
your leg." He unfastened the other end of the cable. "Now stand

THE STAR KING

159

up. Walk slowly forward and down the ladder. Don't make a single
wrong move or I'll shoot you."

Dasce rose slowly to his feet. Gersen motioned with his projac.
"Move."

Dasce said, "Where are we?"

"Never mind where we are. Move."

Dasce slowly turned and, trailing the two long ends of the cable,
went forward-through the engine room, into the saloon, to the
exit port. Here he hesitated, looked back over his shoulder. "Keep
going," said Gersen.

Dasce descended the ladder. Gersen, following close, slipped
on the trailing cable. He jumped to the ground and fell heavily, flat
on his face. Dasce gave a wild raucous cry of exultation, leaped on
him, seized the projac, sprang back.

Gersen slowly rose to his feet, backed away.

"Stop there," called Dasce. "Oho, but I have you now." He
glanced around. Fifty feet to one side stood W^arweave and Det-
teras, and slightly behind them Kelle. Pressed against the hull was
Rampold. Dasce nourished the projac. "All of you, stand together
while I decide what to do. Old Rampold, it's time he was dead. And
Gersen, naturally, in the belly." He looked to where the three from
the university stood. "And you"-he said to one of the men-"you
played me false."

Gersen said, "You won't do yourself much good, Dasce."

"Oho, I won't? I hold the weapon. There's three here who are
going to die. You, old Rampold, and Malagate."

"There's only a single charge in the gun. You may get one of
us, but the others will get you."

Dasce turned a quick look at the charge indicator. He laughed
harshly. "So be it. Who wants to die? Or rather, who do I want to
kill?" He looked from face to face. "Old Rampold-I've had my
pleasure from him. Gersen. Yes, I'd like to kill you. With a red-
hot iron in your ear. And Malagate. You sly dog. You betrayed me.
What your game is I don't know. Why you brought me here I don't
know. But you're the one I'm going to kill." He raised the weapon,
pointed, squeezed the trigger. Energy darted from the gun-but
not the blazing blue bolt. Only a weak pale sizzle. It struck War-
weave, knocked him to the ground. Gersen charged Dasce. Instead
of fighting, Dasce hurled the weapon at Gersen's head, turned and

160

TIIF, DEMON PRINCRS

ran up the valley. Gersen picked up the projac, snapped it open,
inserted a fresh power pack.

He walked slowly forward to where Warweave was picking
himself up from the ground. Detteras barked at Gersen, "You must
be a moron, allowing such a man to take your gun."

Kelle spoke in a puzzled voice. "But why shoot Gyle War-
weave? Is he a maniac?"

Gersen said, "I suggest we go back into the ship, where Mr.
Warweave can rest. There was only a small charge in the gun, but

no doubt it hurt."

Detteras grunted, turned toward the ship. Kelle took War-
weave's arm, but Warweave shook him off and lurched up the ac-
commodation ladder, followed by Detteras and Kelle, and finally

Gersen.

Gersen asked Warweave, "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes," said Warweave in a cold voice. "But I agree with Det-
teras. You displayed the utmost folly."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Gersen. "I carefully arranged the

whole affair."

Detteras gaped at him stupidly. "Purposely?"

"I shorted out the projac, I arranged that Dasce could seize it,
I informed him that there was a single charge left-so that he could
verify my own conviction regarding the identity ofAttel Malagate."

"Attel Malagate?" Kelle and Detteras stared blankly at Gersen.
Warweave watched him narrow-eyed.

"Malagate the Woe. I've watched Mr. Warweave for a long
time, feeling that he should more properly be known as Malagate."

"This is lunacy," gasped Detteras. "Are you serious?"

"Certainly I'm serious. It had to be either you, Warweave, or

Kelle. I picked W^arweave."

"Indeed," said Warweave. "May I ask why?"

"Of course. First of all I dismissed Detteras. He is an ugly man.
Star Kings are more careful with their physiognomy."

"Star Kings?" blurted Detteras. "Who? Warweave? What non-


sense!

"Detteras likewise is a good eater, while Star Kings eat human
food with disgust. As for Mr. Kelle, I also thought him an unlikely
candidate. He is short and round-again not the physiognomy
characteristic of a Star King."

THE STAR KING

161

Warweave's face twisted in a glacial smile. "You imply that a
good appearance guarantees depravity of character?"

"No. I imply that Star Kings seldom leave their planet unless
they can compete successfully against true men. Now, two other
points. Kelle is married and has bred at least one daughter. Sec-
ondly, Kelle and Detteras have legitimate careers at the university'.
You are Honorary Provost and I remember something to the effect
that a large endowment brought you the job."

"This is insanity," declared Detteras. "Warweave as Malagate
the Woe. And a Star King to boot!"

"It's a fact," said Gersen.

"And what do you propose to do?"

"Kill him."

Detteras stared, then lunged forward, roaring in triumph as he
grappled Gersen, only to grunt as Gersen twisted, swung an elbow,
struck with the butt of the projac. Detteras reeled back.

"I want the cooperation of you and Mr. Kelle," said Gersen.

"Cooperate with a lunatic? Never!"

"Warweave is frequently absent from the university for long
periods. Am I right? And one of these periods was only recently.
Right?"

Detteras set his jaw. "I'll say nothing about that."

"This is true enough," said Kelle uneasily. He glanced sidewise
at Warweave, then back to Gersen. "I assume you have strong rea-
sons for your accusation."

"Certainly."

"I'd like to hear some of these reasons."

"They make a long story. It's enough to say that I tracked
Malagate to the Sea Province University and narrowed the possi-
bilities to you three. I suspected Warweave almost from the first,
but I never was certain until the three of you stepped out on this
planet,"

"This is sheer farce," sighed Warweave wearily.

"This planet is like Earth-an Earth that no man alive has ever
known; an Earth which hasn't existed for ten thousand years. Kelle
and Detteras were entranced. Kelle drank in the view, Detteras
reverently felt the soil. Warweave went to look into the water. Star
Kings evolved from amphibious lizards who lived in wet holes. The
dryads appeared. Warweave admired them, seemed to consider
them ornamental. To Kelle and Detteras-and to myself-they are

162 I HP DFMON PRINCES

intruders. Detteras whistled at them, Kelle scowled We men don't
want fantastic creatures on a world so dear to us. But all this is
theorizing. After I managed to capture Hildemar Dasce I went to
great lengths to convince him that Malagate was his betrayer. When
I gave him the chance he identified Warweave-with the pro)ac."

War-weave shook his head pityingly. "I deny all your allega-
tions." He looked to Kelle. "Do you believe me5"

Kelle pursed his lips. "Confound it, Gyle, I've come to regard
Gersen as a competent man. I don't believe him to be either irre-
sponsible or a lunatic."

Warweave turned to Detteras. "Rundle, what of you?"

Detteras rolled up his eyes. "I am a rational man; I can't have
blind faith-in you, in Gersen or m anyone else. Gersen has made
a case and, astonishing as it is, the facts seem to bear him out. Can
you demonstrate to the contrary?"

Warweave considered. "I believe so." He strolled to the shelf
below which Suthiro had installed the switch. The inhalator he had
worn outside dangled from his hand. "Yes," said Warweave, "I
believe I can make a convincing case for myself." He pressed the
mhalator to his face, touched the switch. At the forward console
the air-pollution alarm sounded, a raucous loud clanging.

"If you turn back the switch," Gersen called out, "the noise
will stop."

Warweave numbly reached below the shelf, reversed the switch.

Gersen turned to Kelle and Detteras. "Warweave is as surprised
as you. He thought that the switch controlled the gas reservoirs
which you will find under the settees; hence his use of the mhalator.
I emptied the tanks and changed the leads of the switch."

Kelle looked under the settee, brought forth the canister. He
looked at Warweave. "Well, Gyle?"

Warweave tossed aside the inhalator, turned his back m disgust.

Detteras suddenly roared, "W^arweave' Let's have the truth'"

Warweave spoke over his shoulder. "You've heard the truth
From Gersen."

"You are-Malagate^" said Detteras in a hushed voice.

"Yes." W^anveave wheeled about, drew himself up to his full
height. His black eyes glared back and forth. "And I am a Star King,
superior to men'"

"A man has defeated you," said Kelle

W^rweave's eyes burnt even brighter. He turned to consider

THE STAR KI\G

Gersen. tt! am curious. Ever since your encounter with Lugo Tee-
halt you have sought Malagate. Why?"

"Malagate is one of the Demon Princes. I hope to destroy each
of them."

"So what is your intention in regard to me?"

"I plan to kill you."

Warweave thought for a moment. "You are an ambitious man,"
he said m a neutral voice. "There are not many like you."

"There were not many survivors of the raid on Mount Pleasant.
My grandfather was one. I was another."

"Indeed," said Warweave. "The Mount Pleasant raid. So long
ago."

"This is a peculiar voyage," said Kelle, whose attitude had be-
come one of wry detachment. "At least we have achieved our os-
tensible purpose. The planet exists; it is as Mr. Gersen described
it, and the money in escrow becomes his property."

"Not until we return to Alphanor," growled Detteras.

Gersen spoke to Warweave. "You have taken great pains to
secure this world for yourself. I wonder why."

Warweave shrugged noncommittally.

"A man might want to live here, or build himself a palace,"
suggested Gersen. "A Star King wants none of these things."

Warweave said presently, "You make a common mistake. Men
are after all quite parochial. You forget that individual differences
exist among folk other than yourselves. Some perhaps are denied
the freedom of their own worlds. They become 'renegade': neither
man nor their own kind. The folk of Ghnarumen"-he easily used
the name which sounded like a cough-"are quite as orderly as the
most law-abiding folk of the Oikumene. In short, the career of
Malagate is not one which the folk of Ghnarumen would care to
emulate. They may be right, they may be wrong. It is my prerog-
ative to organize my own style of life. As you know, the Star Kings
are strongly competitive. This world, to men, is beautiful. I find it
pleasant enough. 1 plan to bring here folk of my race, to nurture
them on a world more beautiful than Earth, to father a world and
a people superior to both men and the people of Ghnarumen. This
was my hope, which you will not understand, for there can be no
such understanding between your race and mine."

Detteras said between clenched teeth, "But you took advantage
of our liberality to dishonor us. If Gersen doesn't kill you, I will."

164

TH& DFMON PRINCES

"Neither of you will kill Malagate the Star King." Two steps
took him to the exit port. Detteras lunged after him, frustrating
Gersen's attempt to use his pro)ac. Warweave turned, lashed out
with his foot, kicked Detteras in the stomach, )umped to the
ground, ran off down the slope

Gersen stepped to the exit port, aimed, sent a bolt of energy
unsuccessfully after the bounding figure. He descended the ladder,
gave chase. Warweave reached the meadow, hesitated at the edge
of the river, looked back at Gersen, continued down the valley.
Gersen kept to the upper slopes where the ground was hard, and
began to gain on Warweave, who had come to a marshy area. War-
weave once more went to the nverbank, hesitated. If he plunged
in, before he gained the opposite shore Gersen would be upon him.
He looked back over his shoulder, and his face was no longer that
of a man; Gersen wondered how he could have been fooled even
for an instant. Warweave turned, uttered a cry m a slurred guttural
language, went to his knees, disappeared.

Gersen, reaching the spot, found a hole in the nverbank almost
two feet across. He bent, peered in, but saw nothing. Detteras and
Kelle ran up, panting. "Where is he3"

Gersen pointed to the burrow. "According to Lugo Teehalt,
large white grubs live under the marsh."

"Hmf," said Detteras. "His ancestors evolved in the swamps,
in )ust such holes He probably couldn't want a better haven."

Kelle said dubiously, "He'll have to come out-to eat, to
drink."

"I'm not so sure. The Star Kings dislike human food; men find
the Star King diet equally repellent. We cultivate plants and do-
mesticate animals, they do similarly for worms and insects, such
things as that. Warweave should do quite well on what he finds
underground."

Gersen looked up the valley where Hildemar Dasce had fled.
"I've lost them both. I was willing to sacrifice Dasce to get Mala-
gate-but both .. ."

The three stood on the nverbank. A breeze rippled the surface
of the water, moved the branches of the great dark trees which grew
at the base of the hills. A tribe of dryads wandering along the op-
posite shore turned their purple-green eye smudges on the men.

Gersen said, "Perhaps it's )ust as bad, leaving them together on
this planet, as killing them."

THE STAR KI\G 165

"Worse," said Detteras devoutly. "Worse by far "

They returned slowly to the ship. Pallis Atwrode, sitting on the
turf, rose to her feet as Gersen approached. She seemed not so
much oblivious to the events of the past few minutes as uninter-
ested, unconcerned. She came over to him, took his arm, smiled up
into his face. Her own face was once again vital and fresh.

"Kirth, I like it here, don't you?"

"Yes, Pallis, very much."

"Imagine!" said Pallis in a hushed voice. "A pretty house up
there on the hill. Old Sir Morton Hodenfroe had a beautiful house
up along Blackstone Edge. Wouldn't that be nice, Kirth21 wonder.
I wonder.. . ."

"First we must return to Alphanor, Pallis. Then we'll talk about
coming back."

"Very well, Kirth." She hesitated, then put her arms up to his
shoulders, wistfully searched his face. "Do you still. . are you
still-interested in me? After what happened2"

"Of course." Gersen's eyes felt moist. "WTiat fault was it of
yours?"

"None.. . . But at home, in Lantango, men are very )ealous."

Gersen could think of nothing to say. He kissed her forehead,
patted her shoulders.

Detteras said gruffly, "Well, Gersen, you've made use of Kelle
and myself in a most cavalier fashion. I can't say that I enjoyed it,
but I can't bring myself to resent it, either."

Robin Rampold approached slowly, keeping to the shadow of
the ship. "Hildemar ran away," he said mournfully. "Now he will
make over the mountains to town and I will never see him again."

"He can make over the mountains," said Gersen, "but he won't
find any towns."

"I have been watching up along the hillside, and through the
forest," said Rampold. "I think he is somewhere nearby."

"Very likely," said Gersen.

"It is distressing," said Rampold. "It is enough to sadden a
man."

Gersen laughed. "You would prefer to be back in the cage?"

"No, of course not. But then I had my dreams. Of what I would
do when I won free. Seventeen years of hopes and dreams. But now
I am free and Hildemar is beyond my reach." He moved discon-
solately away.

THF DEMON PRINCES

166

After a pause Kelle said, "As a scientist I find this planet a place
of fascination As a man I find it entrancing As Kagge Kelle, erst-
while colleague of Gyle Warweave-I find it extremely depressing.
I am prepared to leave at any time "

"Yes," said Detteras in a gruff voice "Why not^"

Gersen looked up the valley to where Hildemar Dasce, wearing
only soiled white pantaloons, lurked in the forest like a raging,
desperate beast He looked down the valley, far down over the hazy
plain, then back to the swampy meadow, under which crawled Mal-
agate the Woe He looked down into the face of Pallis Atwrode

She took a deep breath "I can't believe this is real "

"It's real But it's also a dream "

"All the rest seems a dream too. A terrible dream "

"It's over now As if it had never happened "

"I've been.. " She hesitated, frowned "I don't remember too
much "

"Just as well."

Pallis pointed across the meadow "Look, Kirth, what are those
beautiful creatures^"

"Dryads "

"What are they doing out there3"

"I don't know Looking for something to eat, I suppose Lugo
Teehalt says they suck up nourishment from big grubs which bur-
row under the meadow Or perhaps they lay eggs in the soil "

The dryads, wandering up the shore, nourished their gorgeous
fronds, swaying slowly like branches in the wind On the swamp
they moved more slowly, a step at a time One of them stopped,
stood stock still Under its foot showed a glint of white, as the
concealed proboscis plunged down into the soft ground A few sec-
onds passed The ground heaved, erupted the dryad toppled over
backward Up from a crater staggered Warweave, the proboscis still
thrust through his back His face was stained with dirt, his eyes
stared from his head, from his mouth issued a series of appalling
cries He shook himself, fell to his knees, rolled over, disengaged
himself from the fluttering dryad, jumped erect, ran crazily up the
hillside His steps flagged He fell to his knees, clutched at the
ground, kicked and lay still

^Tyie Warweave was buried on the hillside. The group returned to
[he ship Robin Rampold now diffidently approached Gersen "I

<^

the ship Robin Rampold now
have made up my mind to stay here "

hiave madp nn mv mind l-n sl-av here "

THE SIAR A7VG

167

In one part of his brain Gersen was shocked and astonished In
another part there was only confirmation of a previous expectation
"So," said Gersen heavily, "you expect to live on this planet with
Hildemar Dasce "

"Yes "

"Do you know what will happen5 He will make you his slave.
Or he will kill you for the food which I shall be bound to leave
you "

Rampold's face was bleak and drawn "It may be as you say
But I cannot leave Hildemar Dasce "

"Think," said Gersen "You will be here alone He will be more
savage than ever before."

"I hope that you will leave me certain articles a weapon, a
shovel, a few tools to build a shelter, some food "

"And what will you do when the food runs out3"

"I will look for natural food seeds, fish, nuts, roots. These may
be poisonous, but I will test them carefully And what else is left
for me2"

Gersen shook his head. "Far better that you return with us to
Alphanor Hildemar Dasce will take revenge on you "

Robin Rampold said, "It is a chance I must take "

"As you wish "

The ship lifted from the meadow, leaving Rampold standing
beside his meager stack of supplies

The horizons spread out, the planet became a green and blue
ball and fell astern Gersen turned to Kelle and Detteras "Well,
gentlemen, you have visited Teehalt's planet "

"Yes," said Kelle tonelessly "By a roundabout method you
have fulfilled the terms of your agreement, the money is yours "

Gersen shook his head "I don't want the money. I suggest that
we keep the existence of this planet secret, to preserve it from what
could only be desecration "

"Very well," said Kelle "I'm agreed "

"I agree," said Detteras, "provided that I may return another
time, under more relaxing circumstances "

"One further condition," said Gersen "A third of the funds in
escrow were deposited by Attel Malagate I suggest that they be
transferred to Miss Atwrode's account, as some measure of com-
pensation for the wrongs done her at Malagate's orders "

168 THE DF..MON PRINCES

Neither Kelle nor Detteras made objection. Pallis protested
half-heartedly, then acquiesced, and presently became very cheerful.

And astern the yellow-white star became one with the multi-
tude, and presently vanished.

A year later Kirth Gersen returned alone to Teehalt's planet in his
old Model 9B spaceboat.

Hanging in space, he examined the valley by macroscope, but
discovered no signs of life. There was now a projac on the planet
and it might well be in the hands of Hildemar Dasce. He waited
till nightfall and landed the boat on a shelf in the mountains above
the river valley.

The long quiet night came to an end. At dawn Gersen started
down the valley, keeping always to the shelter of the trees.

From far off he heard the sound of an ax. With great care he
approached the sound.

On the edge of the forest Robin Rampold chopped at a fallen
tree. Gersen stealthily moved closer. Rampold's face had filled out.
He looked bronzed and strong and fit. Gersen called his name.
Rampold looked up, startled, searched the dark shadows. "Who is
there?"

"Kirth Gersen."

"Come forth, come forth. No need to steal up so furtively."

Gersen moved to the edge of the forest, looked carefully all
around. "I feared I might find Hildemar Dasce."

"Ah," said Rampold. "No need to worry about Hildemar."

"He is dead?"

"No. He is quite alive, in a little pen I built for him. With your
permission, I will not take you to see him, as the pen is in a private
spot, well hidden from any who might visit the planet."

"I see," said Gersen. "You defeated Dasce, then."

"Of course. Did you ever doubt it? I have much more resource
than he. I dug a pit during the night, built a deadfall. In the morn-
ing Hildemar Dasce swaggered forth, hoping to confiscate my
stores. He fell into it, and I took him captive. Already he has be-
come a changed man." He looked closely into Gersen's face. "You
do not approve?"

Gersen shrugged. "I came to take you back to the Oikumene."

"No," said Rampold. "Never fear for me. I will live out my
days here, with Hildemar Dasce. It is a beautiful planet. I have

THE STAR KING 169

found sufficient food to maintain us, and daily I demonstrate to
Hildemar Dasce the tricks and conceits he taught me long ago."

They wandered down the valley to the previous landing place.
"The life cycle here is strange," said Rampold. "Each form changes
into another, endlessly. Only the trees are permanent."

"So I learned from the man who first found the planet."

"Come, I'll show you Warweave's grave." Rampold led the way
up the slope, to a copse of slender white-timbered trees. To the
side grew a seedling, rather different from the rest. The trunk was
veined with purple, the leaves were dark-green and leathery. Ram-
pold pointed. "There rests Gyle Warweave."

Gersen looked for a moment, then turned away. He gazed up
and down the valley. It was as beautiful and placid and quiet as
before. "Well, then," said Gersen, "I will once more depart. 1 may
never return. Are you sure you wish to stay?"

"Absolutely." Rampold looked up at the sun. "But I am late.
Hildemar will be expecting me. A pity to disappoint him. I will bid
you farewell now." He bowed and departed, crossing the valley and
disappearing into the forest.

Gersen once more looked up and down the valley. This world
was no longer innocent; it had known evil. A sense of tarnish lay
across the panorama. Gersen sighed, turned, stood looking down at
Warweave's grave. He bent, seized the seedling, pulled it from the
soil, broke it, cast it aside. Then he turned and walked up the valley
toward his spaceboat.