CHAPTER 25
Himbo Petey looked at the chaos which had once bragged the name "The Greatest Show in the Galaxy." He sighed, reflexively twirled his mustachios, and then uncharacteristically stopped and sat down. His shoulders drooped. He shook his head. There was a small tear in the corner of his eye.
Dame Ethulassia came and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "We'll get it all back together again, Himbo," she said in a quiet voice, quite unlike her usual brassy contralto.
"No. Not this time, Ethy," he replied quietly, sadly. "The old show is over. What is left of the lattice ship will be broken up for scrap. We could have afforded to get off-world, since there's enough money for fuel. But there's nothing extra for repairs. Not repairs on this scale, anyway. And with this wreckage, we can't even put on a show to earn any more."
He sighed. "No, we'll have to sell the old girl off for scrap and pay off the artistes as best we can. This is the end of the Petey, Byrum and Keep."
Mannicholo's colors turned a melancholy blue. The other show-people looked silently at the walls and scuffed shoes.
"Ahem." One of the two Sedmons cleared his throat, stepping forward from where the clones stood with the Venture's crew. "Perhaps we can be of assistance?"
Himbo looked at him and laughed bitterly. "I think you've assisted me to ruin well enough already, thank you."
"Quite." The Sedmons nodded in unison, looking just a trace embarrassed. "And thus it seems only fair that we should attempt to make amends. I think we may safely assume that Messrs. Byrum and Keep are long dead?"
Himbo Petey shrugged. "Legend traces the show all the way back to Old Yarthe. The lattice ship is at least fifteen centuries old. She's held together with hull-metal welds on hull-metal welds. I presume there must once have been a Byrum and a Keep. Like the name Petey: All gone now." He picked up a handful of premier deluxe-box tickets and flung them like confetti up into the air.
"So, you, Himbo Petey, are the sole owner?" continued the other Sedmon, ignoring the theatricals.
Himbo looked at the still smoldering remains of the bright lattice awnings. "Of this ruin? Yes. It would be a waste of effort suing me, though. By the time my creditors are finished, there won't even be a square inch of skin for you to auction off at the slave market."
The Sedmons frowned, again in that uncanny unison. "We have no intention of suing you. How would you feel about another partner?" His clone cleared his throat. "One with, ah, capital to invest."
The Showmaster blinked at them. "Invest in what? This wreckage? Where would I find such a fool?"
The Sedmons smiled sardonically. "It seems likely to me, Showmaster, that you might find at least two right here," said the one.
"Has it not occurred to you that such destruction and such expense would only be incurred for very high stakes?" continued the other.
Himbo shook his head, refusing to allow any trace of hope to trickle into his mind. "Your 'high stakes,' Mister Twins-or-Clones, are very small compared to the debts we've racked up. I leave aside the cost of getting the lattice ship into space again. I'm sorry, but you just don't have any idea what repairing the Petey, Byrum and Keep would cost."
"On the contrary," said one Sedmon. "This estimate is child's play."
His eyes and those of his clone flicked here and there, assessing the damage. Very expert eyes, they seemed. Not surprising, thought Pausert. The Daals of Uldune would be experts at assessing havoc and ruin.
"Repairs would cost approximately seven million, three hundred thousand maels. Not more than eight million, for a certainty."
The other Sedmon chimed in. "Simply say the word, and you will find that the Petey, Byrum and Keep account has been credited with ten million maels."
"Which will mean your account would be in the black, for a change."
They each raised one eyebrow. "For the first time in generations, actually."
Pausert's conscience started tugging at his sleeve. While it went against the captain's grain to disrupt the dawning look of amazed hope on Himbo Petey's face, he also felt that it was only fair to explain to the Showmaster exactly who he was dealing with. Pausert had seen enough of Sedmon's operations to be very sure that Uldune had not moved that far from its piratical past. The Daal was—were? dealing with a six-way person was confusing—still neck-deep in smuggling and had certainly taken the lead over the Empire in some fields of weaponry, to judge by the latest display of firepower. The Showmaster might just prefer bankruptcy to being indebted to Uldune. The captain cleared his throat.
The Sedmons continued without a pause for breath—easy for them, of course, since they could speak in turns. "I suspect, although I would have preferred them not to be involved, that their Wisdoms of Karres will match that in the near future."
That threw Pausert right off his moral stride. Match ten million maels?
"I've lately gotten the feeling," said the second Sedmon, looking pointedly at Captain Pausert, "that they don't entirely trust the Daal of Uldune, though I can't imagine why. That's me, by the way. So we propose one-third ownership."
"Of course you will retain day-to-day control," said Sedmon, smoothly.
Pausert was still mentally stumbling. Even cut in half . . . Match five million maels? HOW?
Himbo Petey stared at the Sedmons, his eyes resembling the proverbial saucers. Then, turned his very wide, blue-eyed gaze on the others. "Uldune . . . and Karres! I should have guessed. It wasn't stage magic at all, was it?"
Goth was still-faced. The Leewit fidgeted. Then, the little blond witch half-wailed: "It's not cheating to use the real thing!" She glared about, the surface belligerence in her eyes covering not-so-veiled anxiety. "Well, it's not. I don't think."
Ethulassia barked a laugh. "Ha! An interesting question, that. Our magicians will probably spend a year wrangling over the professional ethics involved." The Dame bestowed a fond and approving look upon the Leewit. "Never you mind, dearie. Even if those cranky magicians crab and complain, you'll always have a place in the thespians' company."
The Leewit beamed. Goth's face still held no expression, but her brown eyes seemed to lighten a bit.
Pausert kept his mouth shut. Five millions maels? HOW?
If didn't occur to him until some time later that, in addition to his—their?—other talents, the Daal of Uldune would be a superb card player. And he had just bluffed the captain right out of the hand by simply cranking up the stakes.
For the first time since the disastrous fight, Himbo Petey let his round face slip into the creases of his familiar smile. "It is against magicians' union rules, as a matter of fact. Says so right there in Section III, Article 1, Clause 3(f): 'no use of exotic mental powers to imitate stage magic and fakery.' " He glanced about the area. "But since there are no members of the magicians' union here . . . Well, if you don't tell them, I won't."
He did something totally unlike himself, then. He took the waxed end of one of his proud mustachios and chewed it.
Everyone was silent, waiting. Then he pulled it out and twirled it in a familiar manner. Nodded abruptly. Took a deep breath, knelt on the floor and began picking up the premier deluxe-box tickets he'd scattered about.
"Well, come on. All of you! We'll be needing these. Collect them up before someone stands on them. We can't waste funds by throwing tickets on the floor." He turned to Pausert and waved a handful of tickets at him. "I'll be looking to Karres to provide us with a counter-weight to Uldune. They're notorious criminals, you know, the lot of them." Then he waved the tickets at the two Daals. "And you will have to keep an eye on the witches. Their reputation is no more savory than yours."