played currency
which amounted to the wealth of fabled Ind. Nobody knew what Ind was,
any longer, but it was a synonym for fabulous and uncountable riches.
When men went off with Hoddan, they came back rich.

But nevertheless there was an uncomfortable sort of atmosphere in the
renovated yacht. They'd transshipped from the spaceboat to the yacht
through lifeboat tubes, and they were quite docile about it because none
of them knew how to get back to ground. Hoddan left the spaceboat with a
triggerable timing-signal set for use on his return. He'd done a similar
thing off Krim. He drove the little yacht well out, until Darth was only
a spotted ball with visible clouds and ice caps. Then he lined up for
Walden, direct, and went into overdrive.

Within hours he noted the disturbing feel of things. His followers were
not happy. They moped. They sat in corners and submerged themselves in
misery. Large, massive men with drooping blond mustaches--ideal
characters for the roles of pirates--tended to squeeze tears out of
their eyes at odd moments. When the ship was twelve hours on its way,
the atmosphere inside it was funereal. The spearmen did not even gorge
themselves on the food with which the yacht was stocked. And when a
Darthian gentleman lost his appetite, something had to be wrong.

He called Thal into the control room.

"What's the matter with the gang?" he demanded vexedly. "They look at me
as if I'd broken all their hearts! Do they want to go back?"

Thal heaved a sigh, indicating depression beside which suicidal mania
would be hilarity. He said pathetically:

"We cannot go back. We cannot ever return to Darth. We are lost men,
doomed to wander forever among strangers, or to float as corpses between
the stars."

"What happened?" demanded Hoddan. "I'm taking you on a pirate cruise
where the loot should be a lot better than last time!"

Thal wept. Hoddan astonishedly regarded his whiskery countenance,
contorted with grief and dampened with tears.

"It happened at the castle," said Thal miserably. "The man Derec, from
Walden, had thrown a bomb at you. You seemed to be dead. But Don Loris
was not sure. He fretted, as he does. He wished to send someone to make
sure. The Lady Fani said; 'I will make sure!' She called me to her and
said, 'Thal, will you fight for me?' And there was Don Loris suddenly
nodding beside her. So I said, 'Yes, my Lady Fani.' Then she said;
'Thank you. I am troubled by Bron Hoddan.' So what