fear the
Foanna!"

"Yet now they move against them," Ross pointed out, still eyeing Torgul.

The Captain's reply was a small, quiet smile.

"Not directly, as you have heard. It is all a part of their plan to set
one of us against the other, letting us fight many small wars and so use
up our men while they take no risks. They wait the day when we shall be
exhausted and then they will reveal themselves to claim all they wish.
So today they stir up trouble between the Wreckers and the Foanna,
knowing that the Foanna are few. Also they strive in turn to anger us by
raids, allowing us to believe that either the Wreckers or Foanna have
attacked. Thus--" he held up his left thumb, made a pincers of right
thumb and forefinger to close upon it, "they hope to catch the Foanna,
between Wreckers and Rovers. Because the Foanna are those they reckon
the most dangerous they move against them now, using us and weakening
our forces into the bargain. A plan which is clever, but the plan of men
who do not like to fight with their own blades."

"They are worse than the coast scum, these cowards!" Ongal spat.

Torgul smiled again. "That is what they believe we will say, kinsman,
and so underrate them. By our customs, yes, they are cowards. But what
care they for our judgments? Did we think of the salkars when we used
them to force the lagoon? No, they were only beasts to be our tools.
So now it is the same with us, except that we know what they intend.
And we shall not be such obedient tools. If the Foanna are our answer,
then--" He paused, gazing into his cup as if he could read some shadowy
future there.

"If the Foanna are the answer, then what?" Ross pushed.

"Instead of fighting the Foanna, we must warm, cherish, try to ally
ourselves with them. And do all that while we still have time!"

"Just how do we do these things?" demanded Ongal. "The Foanna you would
warn, cherish, claim as allies, are already our enemies. Were we not on
the way to force their sea gate only days ago? There is no chance of
seeking peace now. And have the finned ones not learned from the
women-killers that already there is an army of Wreckers camped about the
citadel to which these sons of the Shadow plan to lend certain weapons?
Do we throw away three cruisers--all we have left--in a hopeless fight?
Such is the council of one struck by loss of wits."

"There is a way--my way," Ross seized the opening. "In the Foanna
citadel is my sword-lord, to whose