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At Valence I found an enormous crowd of people, and the garrison and National Guard both under arms, while a tall lieutenant-colonel, of the 49th Regiment of the Line, insisted on my inspecting the troops in person. He took my hand with one of his, with the other he waved his sword, and led the plaudits. His name was Magnan, and he was a Marshal of France before he died.
"This is far enough," Illy motioned to one of the knife men. "Give me your knife, Vug." The man passed his knife to Illy. There was an odor of sea-mud and kelp. Small waves slapped against the stones of the sea-wall. The wind was stronger here. "I know a neat stroke," Illy said. "Practically painless. Who's first?" "What do you mean?" Magnan quavered. "I said I was grateful.
"Your time would be better spent observing the Nenni mannerisms. Frankly, Retief, you're not fitting into the group at all well." "I'll be candid with you, Mr. Magnan. The group gives me the willies." "Oh, the Nenni are a trifle frivolous, I'll concede," Magnan said. "But it's with them that we must deal.
"I'll tell you guys a few things. You ever heard of a world they call Rotune?" "Certainly," Magnan said. "It's a near neighbor of yours. Another backward that is, emergent " "Okay," Zorn said. "You guys think I'm a piker, do you? Well, let me wise you up. The Federal Junta on Rotune is backing my play. I'll be recognized by Rotune, and the Rotune fleet will stand by in case I need any help.
Thank God you reached me. Thank God it's not too late. I'll find some excuse. I'll get a gram off at once." "But you " "It's all right, Magnan. You were in time. Another ten minutes and the agreement would have been signed and transmitted. The wheels would have been put in motion. My career ruined...." Retief felt a prod at his back. He turned. "Doublecrossed," Zorn said softly.
The Ambassador glared at Retief, "Your reputation has preceded you, sir. Your name is associated with a number of the most bizarre incidents in Corps history. I'm warning you; I'll tolerate nothing." He turned and stalked away. "Ambassador-baiting is a dangerous sport, Retief," Magnan said. Retief took a swallow of his drink. "Still," he said, "it's better than no sport at all."
The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter. "You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said. The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to the center, then below. "A little longer," Magnan said. "That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said. "How much longer can he hold it?" Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the grip.
"On the part of, etc." "Now, what am I do to?" I continued; "I will put the question before you in a broad way. There is undoubtedly a sea of blood in Mademoiselle Taillefer's estates; her inheritance from her father is a vast Aceldama. I know that. But Prosper Magnan left no heirs; but, again, I have been unable to discover the family of the merchant who was murdered at Andernach.
"Let's be going," Retief said, propelling Magnan toward the hall. "Those knives!" Magnan yelped. "Take your hands off me, Retief! What are you men ?" Retief glanced back. The fat cook gestured suddenly, and the men faded back. The cook stood, arm cocked, a knife across his palm. "Close the door and make no sound," he said softly. Magnan pressed back against Retief.
Naudaud died there, but Magnan finished his time and then became a scavenger, and, faithful to his vocation as a dealer of death, a poisoner of stray dogs. Some of these cut-throats are still living, and fill good positions, wearing crosses and epaulets, and, rejoicing in their impunity, imagine they have escaped the eye of God. We shall wait and see!
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