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Updated: October 14, 2025
"Yes, Fourth Probability Level; typical of the whole paratime belt I was working in." Verkan Vall handed it over for inspection. "The bowl's natural brier-root; the stem's a sort of plastic made from the sap of certain tropical trees. The little white dot is the maker's trademark; it's made of elephant tusk." "Sounds pretty crude to me, sir." The pilot handed it back. "Nice workmanship, though.
As it was now above the inverted table, the table did not rise, but a tendril, of sleep-gas, curling toward it, bent upward and drifted away from the doorway. Satisfied that he had made a temporary barrier against the sleep-gas, Verkan Vall secured Dalla's hunting pistol and spare magazines and lay down at the bedroom door. For some time, there was silence outside.
Verkan Vall stripped to the waist, pulled off his ankle boots, and examined Olirzon's knife. Its tapering eight-inch blade was double-edged at the point, and its handle was covered with black velvet to afford a good grip, and wound with gold wire. He nodded approvingly, gripped it with his index finger crooked around the cross-guard, and advanced to meet Marnark of Bashad.
At the far side of the room, a young woman was seated at a desk, speaking softly into a sound transcriber. As they entered, she snapped it off and rose. Hadron Dalla wore the same costume Verkan Vall had seen on the visiplate: he recognized her instantly. It took her a second or two to perceive Verkan Vall under the brown skin and black hair of the Lord Virzal of Verkan.
And these are your Assassins Olirzon, and Marnik." Verkan Vall hooked fingers and clapped shoulders with them. "Virzal of Verkan," he identified himself. "I am satisfied to intrust myself to you." "We'll do our best for you, Lord Virzal," the older of the pair, Olirzon, said.
"If it wasn't for that thing, I'd be taking a shower, right now." "You were just finishing one, about fifty paraseconds off, when I came through," Verkan Vall told her. The girl looked at him in obviously feigned indignation. "Why, you You parapeeper!" Verkan Vall chuckled and turned to the clerk. "I want a strato-rocket and pilot, for Dhergabar, right away.
Verkan Vall flipped a switch and cut out the image. "Yes. I don't know what causes that, but it happens, now and then," Tortha Karf said. "Usually at the beginning of a transposition.
"Of course, your friend, the Honorable Marnark, enjoys priority of challenge; I'll take care of you as soon as I have, shall we say, satisfied, him." The earnest and rather consecrated-looking young man rose also, bowing to Verkan Vall. "Yirzol of Narva. I, too, have a quarrel with you, Lord Virzal; I cannot submit to the indignity of having my food snatched from in front of me, as you just did.
"He's entitled to do that, Lord Virzal; the Assassins' code provides for such changes of allegiance." "Welcome, Sarnax," Verkan Vall said, hooking fingers with him. "I hope we'll all be together when this is over." "We will be," Sarnax assured him cheerfully. "Discarnate. We won't get out of this in the body, Lord Virzal."
It could see quite well, even in the close darkness of the starless night; its eyes were of a nature capable of perceiving infrared radiations as light. There were plenty of these; the jeep's engine, lately running on four-wheel drive, was quite hot. Had he been standing alone, especially on this raw, chilly night, Verkan Vall's own body-heat would have lighted him up like a jack-o'-lantern.
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