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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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Fantastic Adventures, September 1946, with "Taming of the Tyrant"
TEENA ARRU pressed her heels into the feathery body of the big Groth and guided it in a wide spiral downward toward the needle-sharp mountains of the satellite Stara.
Teena Arru's oval lips were pressed together tightly. Her slim young body was poised confidently on the Groth's back, her arms about its neck, as the bird dropped to the red earth lightly, uttered a croak of satisfaction and stood quietly while Teena slipped to the ground.
She knew that she must be close to the City of Starn, Stara's only settlement, and a smile warmed the sternness of her expression. Goodman Luck's city was in for a surprise. Perhaps not at once, but wait until she had time to put her full plan into action.
Teena gave the Groth an affectionate slap on the neck and the huge bird wandered away into the shadows of the pointed hills. She knew it would be close enough to heed her whistle when she returned. The girl went toward the end of the secluded valley and set off in the direction of Starn.
As she walked, she reviewed in her mind the changes that were to take place on Goodman Luck's satellite.
Luck was an earth man and not very pleasant. Yet, Teena's heart beat swiftly when she thought of the tall, graceful Luck striding up and down the streets of his city, dominating every man who worked for him. Luck's gray eyes, his curly black hair—yes—even the deep voice, were things that thrilled Teena and made her dream of him.
She increased her stride now and ahead the dusty, makeshift buildings of Starn were visible. Goodman Luck's city was a dirty mining camp. No home these, but shacks that housed the rough miners who came from all parts of the system to work under a man they admired.
As Teena Arru hurried onward, her smile grew bolder. She had left behind the silken clothing of the court and was dressed in ankle-length tights that she knew were common apparel among the women of Stara. Her blouse would match any seductive bit of cotton that Stara's women could flout. Teena was no fool. Her plan was well thought out and it included a wide leather cartridge-belt and a small, powerful atom-pistol.
She reached the outer limits of Starn and in spite of carefully rehearsed plans, she wondered if she really looked the part of one of Stara's women.
Teena's eyes grew wide as she ventured deeper into the city of shacks. She had flown low over Starn before. She had seen Goodman Luck and had heard countless stories of him. But Starn was even worse than she had imagined.
The satellite produced only two materials in any quantity. Platinum, which made Luck's fortune, and a thick red dust that settled over everything and made the sprawling city of Starn look like a place the God of Raan had forgotten.
The shacks were in various stages of disrepair and there was no street system to speak of. However, as most alleys led toward the center of the place, and Teena Arru had already done some scouting from the air, she knew the direction in which she must go.
MEN stopped to stare at her as she passed. She tried not to
blush as the husky, almost brutal-appearing miners turned to
stare after her. She wondered if she looked like a stranger to
them.
Her goal was just ahead. The false-fronted building drooped in the half-light of the sun. It was large, the meeting place of miners when they left the shafts of Luck's mines and sought refreshments. Dirt was stamped down by many feet and dust left shoe patterns across the creaking porch into the interior.
Teena drew a deep breath, adopted a swagger, and entered.
She let the door slam behind her, and gradually her eyes grew accustomed to the poor light. Several men were sitting in a far corner engaged in a game that used colored discs and oblong cards. Behind a bar stood a black-haired giant with a patch over one eye.
Teena stared at him. He was the biggest thing she had ever seen. There was no man on her home satellite, Raan, who would reach his arm-pits.
"I came here to see Goodman Luck," she said.
The giant continued to polish on a glass. Then he laughed and the room seemed to vibrate with the sound.
"So it's Luck you want to see," he said. "And who'll I say is calling?"
A guffaw of laughter came from the table. Teena turned. The others were all staring at her now. She felt suddenly helpless.
"Men call me Tiny. I came in on one of the tramp-freighters from Earth. Heard Luck was in need of good women up here."
She accented the word good, trying to play the part she had rehearsed. The barkeeper laughed.
"Why is it, boys," he shouted across the room, "that we get nothing but the gentlest, most proper young ladies up here in this hell-hole?"
Someone snorted with glee, and a miner slapped his hand down on the table so hard that a stack of chips upset and flew to the floor.
Teena knew that if she was to win the game she had started, she must impress them at once.
She leaned over the bar and brought the flat of her hand across the giant's cheek with a stinging blow. He backed away from her, surprise and anger mirrored on his face.
"Now," she asked sweetly, "will you stop pushing me around, and tell me where I can find Luck?"
"Yes, Marth," a startling, cool voice said from the door. "Tell the young goddess where she can find Goodman Luck."
FEET scraped nervously under the poker table. Marth, for it
was evidently he who had been slapped, nodded respectfully.
"Sure, and she's a speedy craft, Mr. Luck." He rubbed his cheek ruefully. "And well-armored, I'd say."
Teena turned her back to the bar and surveyed the newcomer. She was not disappointed with Goodman Luck. In the rugged, dust-colored uniform of the mines, his bronzed face and alert figure were startling. He seemed to glide rather than walk toward her. She knew that day or night, among friends or enemies, his hand was only a split second away from the heavy pistol that dangled from his waist. She was also aware that no part of her slim body escaped the scrutiny his gray eyes gave her. A smile parted his lips and she knew these were the whitest, most even teeth she had ever seen. "Miss...?"
"Just Tiny," she said, and smiled almost shyly. She had nearly forgotten that to Luck, she was to be the hardened space-traveler who lived for today and today alone. "I—came from Earth. You advertised for women to help settle Stara."
He was close to her now. He placed a firm hand on her bare shoulder.
"Settle Stara?" he asked in a low voice. "You've got enough dynamite to blow the damned place up! You're sure you know what a tough proposition you're up against?"
She, flushed under the intensity of his gaze.
"I—I've heard that Stara isn't a very law-abiding place. That it's growing more lawless and—and raw with the type of men you are hiring."
Luck's eyes flashed. "Get this straight, Tiny," he said. "There's nothing wrong with my men. They're the best. They come from the most fearless race in the solar system. They seek adventure here, but with adventure, they must have pleasure to keep them content. The women, women like you, have nothing to fear from the rest of the world. You're so much scum thrown away by society. On Stara there's a place for all of you. Adventurers need relaxation to remind them that their life isn't too bad. They need women to care for their homes, and to add some small comfort to their everyday lives."
Her eyes were bored.
"Lecture 29," she said.. "Look, I'm here, and you don't have to give me a sales-talk. I think Stara can stand plenty of cleaning up from the looks of the shacks you live in."
His grip on her shoulder loosened, and he stepped back. "You'll find a room at my place. Marth will take you and your luggage out there."
Marth had been listening carefully. At a nod from Luck, he pushed up a section of the bar and slid out into the room. He was waiting behind Teena.
"I'm wearing my luggage," she said quietly. "If Marth is ready, I am."
"Good," Luck said. "Maybe we can find time for a little home-cooked food and a celebration tonight."
Teena watched him leave and a smile of satisfaction touched her mouth. She had succeeded in every detail thus far. Yes, there would be a celebration this evening. It would end very swiftly and she hoped would give Mr. Goodman Luck a great deal to think about.
"DO you know," Luck said across the small table, "that you're
the most attractive girl on the entire satellite?"
They had finished the evening meal of bread, canned chicken from Earth and steaming coffee.
She smiled pertly. "Thank you, sir. Coming from one who has evidently had much experience with lovely ladies, that's a fine compliment."
Luck laughed. "Experience? Perhaps Marth didn't tell you that Stara had become almost overpopulated with attractive females. I'm very much afraid that Gret will break her poor heart at being turned out on such short notice."
"Gret?" Teena, was alert, every nerve taut.
His eyes lifted to hers.
"Gret Rose, a very charming Martian girl. She was asked to get out this afternoon to make room for you."
She wanted to jump up from the table and tear out his eyes. Those charming, caressing eyes that were roving over her. Be careful, Teena, her mind warned her. You mustn't spoil everything now!
"I—suppose that was meant to be flattering?"
"No-o-o!" he said slowly. "Not flattering. However, even the Top Man, Marth's title for me, must have company. It's generally conceded that my house is the best of the lot. Probably more for the food and lodgings than because of the company. At least the others seemed pleased."
She lowered her eyes, staring at the remains of the canned fowl.
"There are many—visitors—here?" She was startled to feel his hand closing over her own. He stood up, pushing the table roughly to one side. His arms went about her shoulders and she jerked away from him.
"Please!..."
Luck frowned. "For the love of Mike, Tiny, don't act coy!"
"I'm sorry." A tear formed in her eye and dropped to her cheek. She wiped it away impatiently. "I'm not a tramp, even if I look like one."
Luck smiled. "I never thought you were," he insisted. "You wanted to come here. I thought you understood."
"I do understand," she cried. "I understand that Stara, if it remains this way, will be the hell-hole of the solar system. You and your men aren't bad. You're lonely and you need relaxation. You take it in any form it comes. But don't you see that Stara is past the pioneer stage? It needs homes and families like other centers of civilization."
As she spoke, Luck's eyes grew hard. The smile was wiped away completely. He waited until she was finished.
"So you're the girl who came on a freighter! Who wore all the luggage you owned! We don't need any missionaries on Stara. Understand that? We're tough and we're glad of it. We enjoy life in our own primitive way and we don't want any one to explain the pleasures of a settled existence.
"We all lived in your settled worlds once, and they drove us crazy. We came here to escape the very thing you're trying to sell me."
"You're wrong," Teena cried. "You did live in settled worlds, but someone somehow made you unhappy. You didn't escape from those worlds. You escaped from the person or problem that made you unhappy."
For a moment she thought he agreed. His eyes softened, but only for an instant.
"Who told you that?" he demanded.
"No one told me anything about you," she said almost in a whisper. "I've seen you many times, and I've admired you. I thought you would listen to me, would help me. Now I see that you're like all the others."
"You're damned right I am," he said evenly. "I don't know why I invited you out here to begin with. I'd be better off with Gret Rose. At least she doesn't preach sermons."
HE pushed her, at the same time releasing his grip from her
shoulder. Teena sprawled on the floor. When she arose, her small
fists were clenched.
"Thank you for being a gentleman," she said, and moved toward the door.
He didn't answer and when she looked back, he was sitting at the table once more. Blindly she found her way to the door and let herself out into the foggy night.
Goodman Luck sat for a long time, head down on the table. His dinner was forgotten. He heard the girl's footsteps fade away into the darkness. Deep inside him something was stirring that wasn't pleasant.
Why did she come? What had been her purpose for tormenting him? Luck flattered himself that he was a hard man. Tonight a slim fiery girl had beaten him.
He swore aloud and turned away from the window.
She would probably leave Stara in the morning. Probably bribe a freighter captain to take her on as a stowaway. He nodded decisively to himself and switched on the lamp over the bed and leaned over the mirror-screen of the small messo-sender on the night table. He pressed the contact button and asked for the space-port. In a moment, Captain Messanger's ruddy face was visible from the clearing tower.
"There's a girl who will probably try to leave the port in the morning," Luck said. "Slim, blond and a lady, playing the part of a tramp. Don't let her get away and call me when you locate her."
Messanger's eyes twinkled.
"Yes, sir! Mr. Luck. You can depend on me, sir. Is that all?"
Luck said, "That's all."
He switched off the messo-sender. The mirror-screen grew black once more. Luck stretched out comfortably. For a long time he couldn't sleep, but lay still, staring at the wall.
TEENA ARRU had some trouble locating the hidden valley where
she had left the Groth. The fog closed in tightly about her and
the wind rose, throwing red dust into her face. At last she
reached the place where she knew the great bird would be. Placing
her fingers to her lips, she produced a high pitched, steady
whistle that brought the Groth fluttering down from the darkness
of the crags.
She mounted and dug her heels into the bird's side. Huge wings beat the night air and she was lifted upward. Soon the fog was gone and only the sky, filled with dozens of bright satellites, was around her. The Mother Planet, a vast, circular globe in the distance, glowed softly in the blue-black darkness.
The Mother Planet, Teena thought, was like some huge comfortable Goddess always there to guide the people of her satellites safely to their goal. Without the great ball of dull light, the sky would be too vast—too lonely to venture into.
The Groth spread its great wings splendidly and the ugly neck stretched forward to its full length. Its beak opened as the bird uttered a joyous squawk at being free of the red satellite once more.
Teena Arru settled down comfortably, half buried in the soft, warm feathers of the bird's back. She leaned forward, her head against its neck and closed her eyes to rest.
Goodman Luck, she thought, was a strange man. Hard, yes, but not entirely bad. She found herself pitying rather than hating him. Beneath all the bluster and bravado, Teena saw the boy in Luck.
Teena had failed in her first mission, but her sister, Princess Laura, and the other women on the planet Raan, would not give up so easily. This was only the first scouting expedition against the rough-hewn satellite of Stara.
There would be many others.
She was half asleep when the Groth's warning squawk told her to prepare for the downward flight to Raan.
She sat up, dug her heels in tightly and strengthened her grip on the bird's neck.
"Down!" Her voice was commanding.
The Groth fell forward into a steep dive. Teena felt the wind whipping against her face. Her hair fell behind her, a blond flag, twisting and whipping from her head. She held her breath.
Raan was close, thrusting its green, warm valley up toward her with incredible speed. She felt the wind change, and as the Groth slowed its speed, the air was warm and pleasing. The harshness of the sky and of Stara, was gone. Below her, lights twinkled in the Valley of Arru. The castle was visible, its worn, gray stone snuggled gently into the curve of the river that twisted the length of the royal valley.
The Groth squawked again, joyously, because it was coming home. It settled down gently on a parapet, high on the left wing of the castle. The left wing was dark. King Arru had closed it when the queen died and he and his two daughters lived on the ground floor of the main building.
Teena dismounted, slapped the Groth on the neck and watched it wing away down the valley toward the Groth cliffs. She found her way across the upper balcony, entered the castle through a narrow window in the stair tower and hurried toward her own room. Half an hour later she had bathed and slipped into bed.
KING Peter Arru waited for the attendant to open the door that
led from the royal chamber. He reached the top of the stairs that
led into the banquet hall and shaped a pleasant smile on his
thin, reddened lips. His footsteps became mincing. Peter's
uniform of the court had been carefully modeled after styles
smuggled into Raan from the Earth. The high-heeled shoes, silk
stockings, knee-length jacket of carefully trimmed velvet, and
plumed hat were, it is true, an example of styles from Earth.
However, the style books Peter purchased at enormous prices were
actually history books of Earth clothing. The costume he had
chosen was from the French court of 1700.
Peter reached the banquet hall and approached his daughters, who were eating silently, separated from each other by the long, beautifully-arranged table. The King approached Teena first, placed a slim hand on her shoulder and greeted her softly.
"A fine morning, my wren. You rested well?"
His voice was condescending, in a way that convinced Teena each time she heard it that her father paid very little attention to his daughters' lives and cared less what happened to them.
"I am happy, thank you."
Her tone was abrupt. She was comparing this soft, spineless father of hers to the men of Stara.
Peter moved with deliberate slowness to Laura, who awaited him at the far end of the table, Laura watched his coming with wide, bewildered blue eyes. Laura was as lovely as her sister, but she had been sheltered as the youngest child and dared not let herself think in terms of escape, as did her sister.
"And you, Laura?"
She looked up quickly and blushed as her father kissed her hand.
"Happy, father," she said gracefully, and watched with tear-dimmed eyes as Peter, went to his own place, waited for the chair to be placed for him and sank into it with a groan.
A servant came at once with a covered dish, and placed it before the king. The cover was lifted. Under it was the poached yoke of a Groth egg. The King ate slowly, delicately, never troubling himself to speak to either of them again. Several moments passed before Teena spoke. "You are attending the races today, father?"
King Peter looked disturbed. "But of course," he said. "And is there a better way to spend my hours?"
"Of course not, father," Teena was willing, even anxious to have her father away.
She remembered the words of the Duchess of Raan, second only to herself and her sister, in power over the satellite.
"The men of Raan are doomed." The Duchess of the Valley of Pines was only thirty, tall, splendidly built and alive in every muscle of her rippling body. "I tell you, we are not slaves, but women. Women alive and eager to live and love. We cannot save our men, for they refuse to be saved. It is our duty to save ourselves."
The occasion had been a party, held at the castle and attended by a hundred women of high nobility. Teena herself had entered the conversation with great interest.
"But—how can we accomplish this?" the wife of a lesser official had asked.
Teena Arru stood up.
"By migrating to Stara," she cried. "There we will find men—strong pioneering men who need us even as we need them. This is no suggestion that we become unfaithful to the men of our race. It is a last chance to save the people of Raan and annex the powerful, healthy blood of Stara."
"But Stara?" someone protested. "It's a rough, uncouth place. The men are little better than animals. The women worse."
But the Duchess had agreed with Teena.
"The Princess is right," she cried. "The men of Stara are fine and noble. We could make Stara a respectable satellite. We could fight against the scum of our own sex who live there. Is there a woman here who dares not match her charm against the women of Stara?"
And so Teena Arru, because she was the highest of them all, was to establish herself with Goodman Luck and plead her cause.
And now, she thought, she was home again and they had lost. Her father and the soft-shelled, brainless men of Raan would go to the races today. They would sit under colored umbrellas while black men waved fans to cool them. They would sip daintily from cool glasses of mint-water and watch, of all things, the slow Groths as they staggered around a quarter-mile track to see who would stumble over the finish line first. Was this then to be the fate of Raan?
GOODMAN LUCK spent a bad night. His sleep brought dreams of
Tiny. His awakening made the memory of her frightened face even
clearer.
For the first time in his life he regretted treating a woman badly. Perhaps it was because the women of the camps were a hard lot. They expected, yes, demanded, rough treatment. They crawled back on their knees, begging to be taken in again.
Luck dressed quickly, eagerly. He called the space-port twice before leaving for the mines. Messanger had warned every captain he would lose a month's wages if he carried a stowaway. Thus far no one had reported a girl to fit Tiny's description.
Disgusted with his men, but mostly with himself, Luck reached town in time to ride to Number One mine with the last load of miners. He sat quietly among them in the two wheel mono-car, and listened to them shout and brag about the cards they held and the whiskey they had absorbed the night before. None of them seemed to be careful of his tongue because the boss was near. Luck knew they had learned that he never touched a man who lived freely and spoke honestly.
The entrance to Mine One yawned before them in the red, dusty hill-side. The car slipped into the black hole, stopped on the elevator track and was automatically locked into place. Without hesitation, the elevator dropped and the car sped down to the tenth level under the clay and rock hills.
It was Luck's policy to visit each mine sometime during the day. There were ten of them, all leading into wide veins of pure platinum.
Between each trip into the shafts, Luck contacted Messanger at the space-port. Each time his expression was slightly more doleful. Messanger was forced to report his failure to locate the girl.
By noon, Luck was furious. He stood in the control-shack at Mine Nine and switched on the messo-sender. Messanger came in on the mirror-screen. His jacket was buttoned about his neck and red dust covered his hair.
"Dammit, Mr. Luck," he said, before Luck could speak. "It isn't any use. I've been out and examined every ship on the field. I even sent a bunch of boys to search the town thinking she might have holed up somewhere. The girl just isn't here, that's all."
Luck scowled. "Can you trust every captain who's leaving today?"
Messanger nodded and grinned faintly.
"You can trust 'em with a load of platinum every month. Is the girl more valuable?"
The scowl didn't leave Luck's face as he switched off the screen.
MARTH, the one-eyed, red-bearded bartender in Starn's only
saloon had more power than appeared on the surface. In size alone
he matched any of Luck's motley crew. Marth the Merciless, the
men called him. Marth was Luck's right hand, in times of danger.
His dress, the rugged brown cotton trousers and jacket of the
townsmen, hid little of his huge biceps and shoulder muscles.
At night Marth ran the saloon and kept order among the men by the simple expedient of bumping heads together with such force that he cracked skulls as most men do eggs. Marth stood for no horse-play in his domain and he had little respect for the way Luck's men talked about women.
Under the rough, tanned skin of Marth's chest beat a heart so soft that he suffered miseries unknown and unsuspected by others. Marth had come to Stara to escape a wife. This wife, like so many of the middle-aged shrews on Earth, had ruled Herbert Marth with a mailed fist. He had worked in the steel mills and when his skin was cooled and away from the fires, at night, his soul was tormented afresh by a nagging woman.
Marth had told no one of this. He had come in a space-freighter, mined three times as much ore as his nearest competitor, and finally been brought out of Mine Seven to serve Luck as a sort of peace officer.
Not that the office was official. But most of Luck's men knew Marth's power and respected it.
One or two men didn't.
* * *
One of these was "Noose." Noose had no other name. He was a French Canadian breed who escaped narrowly from hanging in some northern province on Earth and was using Stara as a perfect place to live out a useless life. Luck didn't like Noose. He didn't trust the narrow eyed, mustached little man. But Noose was a miner and a hard-working man. He did more than his share of work, lived quietly near the edge of Starn, and avoided Marth.
When Noose first came to Stara he spent his nights in the saloon. For three nights, Marth listened to him brag about the amount of work he could do. By the end of that same week, Noose was ready to start a revolution, murder Luck and take over the satellite. That was how Noose's narrow little mind worked.
Then Noose stood too close to Marth one night and shot off his mouth with the vilest adjectives he could choose against Gret Rose, the girl who lived with Goodman Luck. Marth didn't like Gret, but to listen to what Noose had to say was too much for Marth's disposition.
He leaned over the bar and started to choke Noose with one hand. The breed was yanked backward, his breath cut off with a quick gasp, his heels kicking desperately against the rail of the bar.
There he hung, eyes popping, face a dark purple. Marth didn't release his grip and no man dared interfere. Noose was saved only by the sudden entrance of Luck himself.
After that, Noose stayed away from Marth. But he spent long hours at the saloon, gulping mug after mug of fierce, hot teagwa and waited the day he might be sufficiently brave, with the help of the Martian drink, to put a knife into Marth's broad back. .
THERE was no remorse in the heart of Teena Arru when she
arranged a second meeting of the women, in the walled garden of
the castle. This afternoon the men had come to the race track
below the castle and were already cheering weakly as the ungainly
Groths made fools of themselves.
At the garden gate everything looked innocent. Women came, seemingly to enjoy the shade and wait until their fathers or husbands came for them.
Teena Arru, dressed in finery that would have driven Goodman Luck mad with excitement, presided over the meeting. There was serious business here, spiced a little by the high color of the women's cheeks and the excitement that came into their voices when they questioned Teena about her journey.
When the story was finished, the Duchess arose. Her name and station, when she was formally introduced, was the Duchess Elsa Mawn of the Valley of Pines. She came with her sickly husband from a green valley to the north. She, more than anyone else, was lonely. She lived alone, caring for a man she had grown to hate.
Elsa Mawn was still vibrant with the color and flesh of a maiden. She was more bitterly disappointed at Teena's story than were the others.
"Then surely," she said, "it had been proven that we are needed on Stara. The battle must be mapped carefully and we must attack with weapons they understand."
Teena smiled.
"Then you don't fear men who throw you on the floor and ask you to leave their house?"
The Duchess blushed.
"I've yet to see the man who could throw me out," she said bravely.
Her friends chuckled.
"I've yet to see a man," one of them added.
Teena Arru knew that, come what may, the women of Raan were ready to fight. She had a plan. Perhaps if they would help her, it would succeed.
"Listen to me," she said. "We are honest with ourselves. Perhaps more honest than any race of women in history. Our own world is collapsing before us. We have no children to carry on after we are gone. We long to live happy, natural lives. Stara is a good place, but like any frontier, it needs the touch of women to make it attractive and habitable. There are women there now, such as they are. Stara's men are not happy. They know no other life. They drink and eat their way to a grave.
"There is only one way we can take over Stara and convince them that they need something more than the company of useless tramps."
A breathless silence hung over her audience.
"We must go to Stara, a few at a time. We must dress as I dressed during the first journey and show these men we are not afraid of work or hardship. More than that, we will dispose of the women who are there and put ourselves in their places."
"But how?" Elsa Mawn cried. "We cannot—kill..."
"No—there is a better way. Before the first of us leave Raan, we must all hide our Groths where they cannot be found. In this way, our men cannot stop us from escaping. I will act as commander, live on Stara and plan each move carefully.
"When possible, I will capture one of Stara's women. I will tie her to a Groth and the bird will bring her here, to the cliffs."
A murmur of admiration swept through the crowd. Teena held her arm up for silence.
"You must place a guard at the cliffs. When a Groth returns with a captive, imprison the woman. Then put one of yourselves in her place.
"Feed these women well, and when there are but a few of you left in Raan, let them go free."
The Duchess laughed. "They'll certainly be embarrassing subjects for the good King Peter to rule."
Teena smiled.
"I doubt if even they will interest Peter Arru very much," she confessed. "Is my plan clear to all of you?"
Nodding heads told her that it was.
"Good! Then leave the castle garden, in small groups. Hide your Groths and prepare to leave for Stara."
"And remember," Duchess Elsa Mawn warned. "You who think that Stara will be an easy world to conquer had better carry every weapon a woman can obtain. You'll need them!"
GOODMAN LUCK arose slowly from his desk, staring with
unbelieving eyes toward the far end of the room. An incredulous
grin fanned across his face.
"Tiny!"
Teena Arru hesitated in the door, smiling at him, wondering just how he would accept her return. She had been careful to dress as she had the first time she came to Stara. She had entered Luck's house and found him in the study, working at his desk.
"I—didn't know how you would greet me," she said hesitantly. "We didn't part very friendly."
"Tiny," Luck repeated, his eyes eager. "Good Lord, girl, where have you been?"
Teena came toward him and perched lightly on the corner of the desk. Luck wanted to throw his arms around her to make sure she wasn't a ghost, but instead, he sank back into his chair:
"You don't think you've stopped every method of escape from Stara, do you?" she teased. "I thought you might be sorry for the way you treated me. I came back to find out."
Luck felt that strange sensation coming back again. The feeling he had when Tiny was near. His life had been turned upside down. He wasn't able to concentrate as he should have.
"Tiny," his cheeks flamed. "I—want to apologize. I guess I've been pretty crude since I came to this God-forgotten place. The women here are tough. A man forgets..."
"His manners?" she asked gently. "You're forgiven if you don't let it happen again."
He sprang to his feet eagerly.
"And you'll stay here?"
Teena laughed.
"If here means Stara, yes. I can't live in your house."
"I have a cottage near the river. It's close enough so we can be together. The lock is strong."
"One more thing," Teena said, and wondered if this were going to spoil everything. "You'll have to send this creature Gret Rose back to Mars."
Luck was completely under her control now. He wanted only to please her, keep her from running away again.
"Tonight," he promised. "She's in town—at the bar. I'll go there now and tell Marth to take care of shipping her out on the next freighter. Then I'll return and we'll make the cottage ready for you."
He left the room hurriedly urging her to stay where she was while he found his jacket. In a moment he was back like an eager boy, hurrying to her side.
"You'll be comfortable while I'm gone." He stood close to her, wanting her respect and love more than he had ever wanted anything. She thought he was going to try to kiss her, but he turned away. "I'll be back soon."
Teena listened to the outer door slam and heard his footsteps hurrying away down the red sand walk.
She stood up and went to the window. For a long time she stared along the road after his retreating figure.
TEENA was startled suddenly by a sound behind her. A low, rich
voice purred: "Turn around slowly, very slowly."
Teena's fingers clenched. She turned, careful to make no unexpected move. She knew before she spoke to the slim, red-gowned woman, that this was Gret Rose. Gret had the pale, slant-eyed face of a Martian. In a way she was beautiful, but with an unclean beauty that Teena had grown to hate.
"I was in the closet," Gret said. Teena shuddered, for the Martian woman was toying with a slim glittering dagger. "I heard what you said to Luck."
Teena didn't speak.
"Do you think I am fooled by you?" Greta asked, and her voice was like the purr of a cat. "You are not good for Luck. I am good for him. It is as simple as that, and when you are dead, he will understand."
The dagger was balanced carefully in Greta Rose's hand.
Teena smiled suddenly. "If I were so sure of myself," she said. "I would let Luck choose his own mate."
Greta Rose remained impassive.
"Luck chose me long ago. There was no quarrel before you came."
Teena's body tensed suddenly.
"He's returning now." She glanced toward the window. "Suppose he sees us both, and decides who is preferable?"
Greta Rose glanced around toward the window. At the same time, Teena Arru sprang. The knife slashed over her head and buried itself in the desk. She heard Greta Rose swear loudly as she tried to escape. Her shoulder hit Greta's knees and they both went down in a scratching, clawing huddle. Teena was supple. She was more than a match for the soft Martian woman. Without pity or remorse, Teena trussed her enemy up securely with strips torn from Greta's skirt. Then she hurried to the door at the rear of the house. She placed her fingers, to her lips and whistled shrilly.
The night was silent. Then from beyond the river in the direction of the hidden valley, she could hear the heavy beat of wings. The Groth was on its way. Soon her bird would carry its first prisoner back to Raan.
Teena looked down at the gagged, trussed figure of Greta Rose.
"You have the honor of being the first hostage to fly to Raan," she said with biting sarcasm.
MANY changes took place on Stara in those next few weeks. Luck
could not understand what was happening. If any of the men had an
inkling of the cause, they refused to talk for reasons best known
to themselves.
From the beginning, Greta Rose's desertion troubled Luck. She could not be located and, yet, no record was made of her leaving the space-port.
But Luck soon forgot the Martian, and spent his days trying to please Teena Arru. Teena, firmly entrenched in the cottage by the river, was preoccupied. He saw her almost every evening, but several times, when he tried to arouse her by pounding on the cottage door late at night, she could not be awakened.
Then other women left Stara abruptly. In their place, strangers appeared. These stowaways were clever, for even the keen eyes of Messanger could not catch them leaving the ships.
Then gradually men also changed. There was less fighting and drinking at Marth's place. A freighter arrived with, of all things, a load of household goods. These items, never before worth a dime on Stara, sold at unheard of prices. Men rushed about paying a thousand dollars in platinum for a pair of curtains. Beds, brushes, and tables—everything they could buy, were worth any amount it cost to own them.
Then came the crowning touch that sent Luck to Teena Arru with a scowl of displeasure on his face. It started in Marth's place, soon after Goodman Luck came in with instructions for the coming week. Marth cornered him at the bar.
"Damn funny thing happened a little while ago, Mr. Luck," Marth said. "Two of our best men, Walth and Arun, from Mine Seven, got into a fight about women."
Luck grinned. "And that doesn't happen five times a night?"
He turned and surveyed the men in question. They were staring at each other over a card table.
"But this is different," Marth insisted. "They're fighting over a woman all right, but not like you think. I guess maybe you don't know what's going on around here."
Luck didn't, and it made him angry. He hadn't been blind to the changes taking place around him. He poured himself a drink from a bottle Marth produced.
"The truth is, I don't," he admitted. "This business of the oldtimers leaving and a bunch of new women coming in. Then this freighter load of household goods? I didn't think any of the boys were ready to settle down..."
Marth chuckled. Then his smile faded and he looked serious.
"Funny thing," he said. "It's leaked out that the girl you call Tiny has something to do with it."
Luck's glass hit the bar with a thump.
"Leaked out?"
Marth was flustered. "Understand, I'm repeating gossip, and only for your own good, Mr. Luck. I don't know why, but somehow the boys credit it all to her."
Luck was quiet for some time.
"Now look here, Mr. Luck," Marth pleaded. "Don't act like she was doing something wrong. This change may be a good thing."
Luck's eyes swept up to meet Marth's.
"Let me be the judge of that," he snapped. "Stara has to be a tough place. It takes two-fisted men to stand the life here and get the work done. If the men are going soft, I don't like it. If I find the cause, I'll destroy it!"
"Maybe so," Marth admitted. "I've seen men fight over a woman before, but this is the first time I've ever heard them fighting because one of them insulted her."
LUCK stormed down the small path that led to Teena Arru's
cottage. He saw her moving about inside. He pounded on the door
and was startled by the picture she made in the soft blue robe as
she answered his knock.
"It's a little late for a visit isn't it?"
Luck pushed her roughly aside and strode in.
"Look here Tiny," he said gruffly. "There are a lot of funny things happening in Starn."
"Funny—I don't understand."
"I'm not sure of that," Luck said. "That's why I'm here. The men are going soft on me."
Teena frowned. "They are getting their work done, aren't they?"
"That isn't it," he insisted stubbornly. "Stara has been a man's world. We've been tough and ready for anything. In a way, I've been proud of running that kind of a mining organization. Since you arrived, the men are acting as though they were—uh—missionaries or something."
He watched her cheeks grow red.
"You called me a missionary once," she said. "Is that a subtle way of blaming me because your world isn't as it should be?"
He knew that he shouldn't have opened his big mouth. Perhaps he should have thought it over before he came to Tiny. Marth had said that he agreed with the change. Still, Luck thought stubbornly, Stara's men were softening up. In the end it would mean trouble.
"Supposing I am responsible for the changes that have taken place?" she said suddenly.
"I'd kick you out again," he said, "for good."
Teena stiffened. All the breeding of a princess was visible on her face.
"Then kick," she said, "and be sure to hurt me, so that you can prove what a strong man you are!"
Luck glared at her for a moment, his fists clenching. But he didn't move.
WHEN she stopped near the river and looked back through the
lighted door, he was still standing there, as stern and
forbidding as the country he ruled.
It seemed to Teena tonight that every woman had reached a goal but herself.
She continued on her way toward the valley, never knowing that a short distance behind, Luck had taken up the chase. Once before, Tiny had gone out of his life so suddenly and completely that he had never been able to find out where she had hidden. This time he would know. Far ahead, he watched her leave the trail and vanish into the valley of the needle-sharp mountains. She seemed to know her way well.
Luck followed swiftly, managing to keep her in sight. Twice he heard her whistle, then hesitate as though expecting an answer. His anger mounted. Did she have an accomplice? Then Tiny went on again, climbing higher into the foothills of the range.
The going was rougher now. Luck swore at the sharp stones that cut his boots. Then, unexpectedly, he came out behind a small outcropping of stone and saw her not ten feet away.
Luck crept forward in the protection of the rock, and looked over it at Tiny. His eyes widened. She was standing in front of a huge, grotesque bird. The creature towered above the girl and its long neck and ugly bill weaved back and forth in agony as she scolded it. Then Luck saw the reason why the bird had not answered her summons. On a rough nest it had layed five huge, black and orange eggs.
He forgot that he was supposed to be hiding from her.
"Tiny, for the love of Mike?..."
Startled, she turned to face him.
"You kicked me out once," she said icily. "Why do you follow me?"
Luck stepped around the rock that had hidden him and approached her. The bird started to make queer unpleasant sounds in its throat.
"Tiny," he said, "why do you punish this poor bird? It seems to have a homing instinct. Isn't that what you're trying to sell me?"
He was sorry that he had said it. She bent over swiftly and picked up one of the eggs. Before he could dodge, she threw it at him. Luck backed up, tripped and sprawled on his back. At the same time, the bird placed one huge claw on his side and held him down.
"Hey—cut it out."
He howled in protest as the heavy shell hit him full in the face. A vile, yellow liquid spilled into his eyes and mouth. It blinded him and ran down his clothes.
"That for your homing instinct, Mr. Luck," she said.
There was a loud flutter of wings, and Luck tried to wipe the mess from his eyes; Before he could see again, he was alone, and the Groth was a small speck in the sky.
He looked at the remaining eggs and grinned ruefully.
"What an omelet I'd make," he said, and got wearily to his feet. "That girl has a temper."
TEENA ARRU heard someone on the road coming closer to her. She
had changed her mind and was on her way back to the city of
Starn.
"You needn't be afraid of me, Tiny," a gruff voice said. "I kinda thought the boss was going off with some mean ideas in his head."
"Marth," Teena had grown to trust the giant. "Marth, he's thrown me out. I can't leave Stara: Where can I go?"
Marth blushed to the roots of his hair.
"I was thinking, Tiny," he said. "Me. I'm a good man. I ain't never told anyone here, but I was married on Earth. She was kind of a shrew, and I ran away from her. But, I'm a good man like I said, and I got another shack up near the mines. You can stay there, if you don't let any of the boys know about it."
Teena went up on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on Marth's bearded jaw.
"You are an angel wrapped in wolf's clothing," she said softly. "Honestly, Marth, I won't tell a soul."
SHIPLOAD after shipload of household goods and feminine
bric-à-brac came in from Earth. Starn was changing and the
satellite Stara was 'softening up' under the spell of Raan women.
Formal protests were lodged with Goodman Luck. Against his own
will, he was forced to allow a minister and a teacher to come in
from Earth. The first wedding took place during the second month
after he and Tiny fought. After that, weddings came thick and
fast. The houses that lined the dusty alleys of Stara were
cleaned, curtains appeared at the windows.
To the women of Raan, even with the coming of cleanliness, Stara did not compare with the rich homes they had been accustomed to. However, at Teena Arru's strict orders, each of them claimed to be an Earth woman and never mentioned Raan after they arrived, via Groth-back, on the dusty red satellite of Stara.
With the exception of Goodman Luck's temper, everything went well on Stara until Noose noticed a light in Marth's deserted shack. Noose had found no woman, or rather, there was no woman of Raan who could bring herself to cherish the shifty-eyed little breed.
Therefore, Noose was jealous and bitter about the whole thing. He hated Marth, and as it was late at night, thought this might be a chance to stick his knife into Marth's back and escape unseen.
To his surprise, it was not Marth he saw when he edged close to the window and stared inside.
Teena Arru had not often allowed light to come from the shack at night. She continued to lead attacks on the few cheap women left on Stara. She saw to it that Raan women were established as soon as they arrived. She used Marth's shack as a clearing house.
And so Noose remained outside the window for some time, his small eyes more narrow than ever. He was too excited to leave, but feasted his eyes on the girl within the hut. Then he realized the importance of the information he had. Tiny had been banished from Goodman Luck's world a month ago. Now here she was, hiding in Marth's shack. She must have Marth's permission.
Noose left the hut and moved soundlessly until he was sure he was out of hearing distance. Then he broke into a swift run and didn't stop until he reached Goodman Luck's house.
A SLIM, frightened girl made her way down the street and into
Marth's saloon. One would have suspected her of spending days
aboard a freighter, and being dropped, tired and hungry, into a
strange country.'
In truth, she was Laura Arru, Teena's timid sister. Laura had been the last to come. She had watched with satisfaction as each women left the blighted satellite of Raan and rode out of sight on the back of a Groth. Now that she was here herself, and unable to find Teena, Laura grew doubtful.
She had been instructed to go directly to Marth, and she recognized the huge man behind the bar. Laura crossed the room and put one foot boldly on the brass rail. She knew that in the tight breeches of the Raan court, every inch of her figure was accented for the men behind her to stare at. It gave her a frightening yet pleasant tingle up and down the spine.
Marth stared at her, waiting for her to speak.
"I came because Tiny sent for me," she said.
Marth had greeted many women before. He had become Teena's helper.
He was about to speak when he saw Noose come in.
"Sit down there at the table," he told her. "I will speak to you soon."
Laura followed Marth's eyes toward the man who had entered. She didn't like him. Noose was grinning at her. His small eyes and blackened, unwashed face sickened her. She looked away quickly, found her way blindly to a table near the bar.
To her dismay, Noose came to her table and sat down. He leaned toward her.
"Another bundle from Heaven," he sneered. "Maybe this time, I'm the lucky man?"
She knew that he guessed why she was here. Could he be a friend of Teena's? She looked quickly toward Marth, hoping he would interfere. Marth was looking the other way, seemingly disinterested in what was going on.
"Come, come," Noose said, and reached out a dirty hand to touch her shoulder. "You ain't gonna be unfriendly, are you?"
Laura jerked away from him. She wished that she hadn't come. If this man was an example of what she must accept, Raan would have been preferable.
"I don't know you, and I don't like you," she said, but the anger she tried to show melted into fear. "I wish you'd go away."
At the same time Marth stepped close to the bar and said in a low voice:
"The lady said for you to scram, Noose. You understand?"
Noose stood up very slowly. He could feel the comforting, slim blade of his knife, hidden in the folds of his sleeve. "And how long since you been the boss?" he sneered. "Women are free on Starn."
Marth's voice didn't rise.
"Not any more they ain't," he said. "The lady says scram and you get moving, now."
Noose didn't have to think to use a knife. His arm went up swiftly and shot out straight. There was a shattering of glass as the mirror behind Marth broke and the knife thudded into the wood. Laura uttered no sound. Her lips parted and she watched with fascinated eyes as the blade quivered and the handle vibrated back and forth.
Marth's hand came down against the bar with a crash: The heavy glass broke cleanly in two. Moving with deliberate calmness, Marth's arm went aloft. The sharp glass shot through the air like a knife, and hit Noose square in the face. With a blubbering scream he sank to the floor. His hands went to his face and came away dripping with blood.
Marth never moved from behind the bar. He picked up the remainder of the glass and dropped it on the floor behind him.
Noose tried to stand up but he was blinded. The entire front of his face was caved in. He sank forward on the floor and lay still. Blood spilled on the floor and widened into a pool.
LAURA continued to stare until she felt Marth's hand on her
arm.
"You better get out the back way," he said quietly. "Go two blocks south and find a house that has just been painted white. The woman who called herself the Duchess is living there. She has been here for a long time and is married. She will take care of you."
Laura stumbled to the door, then turned and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. The fright was not for herself.
"What—will they do to you?"
Marth grinned.
"It don't matter much. He was a rat."
"But, Marth..." His name sounded strange from her lips.
He gave her a startled glance.
"It's been a long time since anyone besides Tiny called me Marth," he said haltingly.
Laura blushed.
"You—were very brave and strong," she said, and turned away from him.
Marth stared after her, then someone touched him on the shoulder. He pivoted to face one of the men who had been playing cards.
"The boss wants to speak to you, Marth," the miner said. "I guess he's pretty mad."
Marth nodded.
"Luck hates murder," he said. "I guess even in self defense, he won't like the way I messed Noose up."
The miner nodded.
"Things haven't changed for the boss like they have for the rest of us. He's still pretty bitter about all this business of marriage."
Marth entered the office at Mine One, and walked slowly toward Goodman Luck's desk. Luck spent his afternoons here, because Mine One was his richest find, and he liked to feel that it was under personal supervision.
Luck had heard of Noose's death by grape-vine. He had expected it to happen for months, and under different circumstances, he would have forgiven Marth, even congratulated him.
But Luck was bitter. Especially since Noose had told him Tiny was hiding in Marth's shack. Deep inside, Luck was seething with anger, and yet he had a hard time to lay his finger on the reason for it. He knew that Tiny had played some sort of a game with him and he had lost. Now Marth was her accomplice and Luck felt Stara and the city of Starn slipping from his grasp and being taken over by a slim mystery girl.
He had verified the fact that Tiny was at the shack, and then decided to do nothing about it. Now, he saw a chance to punish Marth to save his own face.
MARTH waited nervously for him to look up. Several miners
stood outside, in the hot, dusty entrance to the mine. The
windows of the shack were open. Luck smiled grimly, knowing they
could hear every word. He raised his voice when he spoke.
"Marth, I hear there was a little trouble down at the saloon?"
Marth swallowed. He had always thought a lot of the boss. Somehow, though, Luck had changed in the last few weeks.
"I—I had a fight with Noose," Marth said.
Luck frowned.
"Knifed him, didn't you?"
Marth's face flamed.
"I did not, sir. He tried to bury his blade in me and I hit him with a broken glass. I didn't mean to kill him."
Luck held up his hand. "Never mind the alibis," he said. "You murdered Noose."
"In self defense, sir," Marth pleaded. "Any of them will tell you..."
"Enough," Luck snapped. "Perhaps I could have forgiven you if this had taken place a year ago."
The miners were drifting closer to the window. Quite a crowd of them were within hearing distance.
"But Noose insulted a lady, Mr. Luck.".
Luck chuckled. It was a brittle, unpleasant sound.
"Yes, I understand that," he said. "And, indirectly, that's just why you'll have to be punished."
It would be hard to guess if Marth's sudden frown was from anger or bewilderment.
"I don't think I understand."
Luck leaned back in his chair and rolled a pencil between his fingers. He stared absently out of the window.
"Before law and order came to Stara, and the city of Starn," he said, "this incident would have been overlooked. However, the pressure that my men, and certain women, have put on me has made Starn a law-abiding community."
There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. .
"Therefore, in a city where the home is sacred and law must prevail, a crime like murder must be properly tried in court."
Marth knew that he was being made a fool of.
"You must be joking, sir," he protested. "There ain't no courts here. We don't have a judge."
"Let me worry about that." Luck stood up. "I'll be the judge and the jury. You've all been demanding justice. Now I demand it. You can have your freedom until I call you to court. I'll trust you not to try to escape."
"I ain't running away," he said in a low voice.
"Good," Luck said. "A notice will be posted giving the time and place of the trial. I'll take care of the justice, and you can depend on as fair a trial as any killer ever got."
STARN had no courthouse, and so, for the past two hours, a
good share of the population had been crowded into the loft over
Marth's saloon. The room had no windows and the door was so
crowded that air had little chance to enter or escape. Luck sat
behind a table at the end of the room. The others sat on
benches, and suffered the heat and the anger they had to
control.
The trial had not gone well. It had been chiefly an oration by Goodman Luck. Marth, almost wishing that the boss would pronounce his death sentence and cut short the trial, sat stiffly at the right of the judge's table. In the front row were several of Starn's newly-married couples, the minister who had been imported from Earth, Laura Arru, whose eyes never left Marth, and Tiny.
Luck felt Tiny's eyes on him throughout the miserable, hot afternoon. He hadn't dared look at her, but his entire speech had been given for her benefit. He reminded them all that Stara and its one city had been peaceful enough before the "missionaries" stuck their feminine noses into his domain. He shouted that Noose had committed no crime different than dozens of men had before these "nice" women came. He pointed to Laura Arru and asked in a loud voice if she was so good that she was worth the death of one of his men.
Teena could stand his insults no longer. She and she alone was the one responsible for them all being here. She sprang to her feet. Her eyes blazed and all the temper that had remained inside her, broke into hot words.
"You—you addle-brained, jealous busybody." Her eyes blazed. "Who do you think you are to tell a whole city what it can and cannot do?"
"Shut up and sit down," Luck shouted. "I'm handling this."
Teena was shaking from head to foot.
"You were handling it," she cried. "Now I'm going to say what I want to and sit down when I'm through. You ask if my sister is worth the life of a man?"
Luck's eyes widened. "Your sister?"
"Yes, Laura is my sister," Teena said heatedly.
"You've been the ring-leader of this whole mess," he accused. "I told you to get out."
"And I had the nerve to fight back," she said. "That's why you're taking your revenge against an innocent man. You haven't the nerve to fight with a woman."
She expected Luck to defend himself. She definitely did not expect the sudden broad grin that lighted up his face. The others saw it and wondered.
"That's your story?" he asked gently.
"It is." She was stiff with anger. "And I defy you to murder Marth, even though you call it justice. You know Noose was a rat. You know he tried to kill Marth first. Marth's attack was in self defense."
Luck continued to smile. Everyone but Teena seemed to sense the change. She caught her breath.
"You evade the point," Luck said. "You say I can't handle a woman?"
She looked puzzled.
"I do!"
HE was out of his chair and across the room in one swift bound. In an instant he had taken her by the arm, twirled her around and kissed her crushingly on the lips.
At first she tried to struggle. Then, as the sounds in the room became long-drawn sighs of relief, she relaxed and lay quietly in his arms. At last he pushed her from him, holding her at arm's length.
"Say it again," he challenged.
She shook her head and pushed the hair back out of her eyes. She was blushing furiously.
"I will not—not here."
Marth was on his feet. Luck turned to face him.
"You big horse," he said good-naturedly. "Did you actually think I'd punish you for killing Noose? If you hadn't, I'd have been forced to shoot him myself in a little while."
"Wait a minute," Teena cried. "This—was all an act?"
Luck grinned. "I had to find out just where you stood," he said. "I—hoped you loved me enough to worry a little about me."
"But—we were quarreling," she protested. "I said some terribly mean things."
Luck grinned happily.
"I know," he admitted. "You were afraid I'd make a fool of myself, and you tried to prevent it. As long as a woman fights with a man, she loves him. Otherwise she wouldn't care enough about him to pay attention to what he did."
A messenger came from the back of the court and leaned over Mr. Messanger, the space-port manager.
"Can I stay here, then?" Marth asked. "Can I have my job back?"
"On one condition," Luck said. "The minister is going to marry Teena Arru and Goodman Luck. You'll have to marry her sister Laura, because you've sort of pledged yourself to look after her."
Laura stood up. Her soft, gentle eyes were on Marth. They were filled with tears..
The giant turned toward her. His mouth was open. He couldn't speak.
"You—uh—I—that is...?"
She nodded and went to him.
Mr. Messanger sprang to his feet at that instant and yelled loudly. He grabbed the minister by the sleeve and started to drag him toward the door.
"Hey, wait a minute," Luck shouted. "Now is as good a time as..."
"Can't wait." Mr. Messanger continued to pull. "The Duchess is gonna have a baby. He's the only man on Stara who knows what to do."
"A baby..." Teena gasped.
"A baby..." The cry went around the room.
"And the first one on Stara," Luck said. "By golly, we'll all go along and give the little fellow a hand."
Teena smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. Messanger was already gone, shouting the news as he charged down the stairs and into the street. Luck looked into Teena's eyes..
"You'd better stay here," she said softly. "I started all this. Perhaps I'd better help finish it. The wedding can wait—for a few hours."
Luck kissed her on the forehead. He turned, smiling happily at Marth, who had already anchored a huge arm around Laura's waist.
"For a few hours," he said. "And then we'll tell the Duchess our good news."
"I'll tell the Duchess that the last tyrant on Stara has been tamed," Teena said, "and that Goodman Luck will be a gentleman from now on."
Luck grinned.
"The last tyrant has been tamed," he promised.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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