“Finally we come to your present case. Marhal was ready to fight for the rich prize of Lhing, and the League arbitrator, underestimating the determination of Luan, awarded the whole planet to them. That was enough to swing an election so that a pro-League government came into power there. I was sent here to check on your reactions, and soon saw a serious mistake had been made. War seemed inevitable. I tried the scoundrelly procedure of fomenting sabotage and revolution. After all, that damage would have been negligible compared to the cost of even a short war.”

“The cost to Marhal,” said Voal grimly.

“Maybe. But after all, I had to think of the whole Galaxy, not Luan. Sometimes someone must suffer a little lest someone else suffer a lot more. At any rate, my scheme failed. I resorted to alliance with a dope smuggler—he ruins a very few lives, while war takes them by the millions—and to kidnapping. I threatened and bluffed until you had backed up so far that mediation was possible.

“Well, that’s all, then. The League commission is on its way. They’ll have some other fat plum to give Luan in place of Lhing—which I suppose will make trouble elsewhere for the Patrol to settle. Your government will have to go out of power after such an about-face—you’re rejoining the League, of course—but I daresay you’ll soon get back in. And you have been entrusted with a secret which could split the Galaxy wide open.”

“I’ll keep it,” said Voal. He smiled faintly. “From what I know of your methods—I’d better!” For a moment he hesitated, then: “And thanks. I was a fool. All Luan was populated by hysterical fools.” He soon grimaced. “Only I still wonder if that isn’t better than being a rogue.”

“Take your choice,” shrugged Wing Alak. “As long as the Galaxy keeps going I don’t care. That’s my job.”

To a Tavern Wench

Vineleaf, O my vineleaf, now pour the hoarded sunshine out
From bottles where it lay in a dream of summers lost
To the sunsets wrought by frost
All throughout the vineyards where grapes have swollen purple
And well nigh sweet as kisses that from boy to girl were tossed
When their lightfoot pathways crossed—
Nor count the cost!
Aldebaran is not so red within the Hyades
As in the heartside claret heartward flowing;
Nor gold or whiteness quivers across the winter seas
Like that which gleams where chardonnay is glowing.
Drink, before our time shall come for going.

Once again the vinters have wrought their humble miracle,
To give us in communion a year that long has past
On an autumn stormwind’s blast.
Here there is remembrance of vineyards flaming scarlet,
As vivid as your spirit, which must also go at last
To wherever it is cast,
And oh, how fast!
Then taste that summer once again which dreams within the cup
Of sun-gold wings upon a hawk at hover
No higher in the sky than our hearts went winging up,
And dance your way through music to discover,
Wine-renewed, that I remain your lover.