“Probably,” he agreed reluctantly. “A question arises, however: How am I going to get there? My ship’s back on Goldenrod.”

“You’re a resourceful man,” said Virtue. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.” She paused. “Now please take me back to my ship.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll walk, and the result will be the same, except that I’ll tell Cain that you’re working for the Angel and that he should kill you on sight.”

The Swagman looked at her, surprised only that he felt no surprise. “I suppose you would, at that.” He paused. “The nearest major planet is Kakkab Kastu Four. Can you at least drop me there?”

She considered his suggestion for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose another few hours doesn’t matter, as long as I get where I’m going.” She turned to him. “But you’ll pay for the extra fuel.”

“We’ll subtract it from your half of Sitting Bull’s fee.”

“I never agreed to pay Sitting Bull,” she said. “I could have gotten the same information from Cain.”

“If he’s still alive.”

“If he’s not, I want half the reward if you kill Santiago.”

“You’re quite an operator, my dear,” said the Swagman, shaking his head with mock weariness.

“One does what one must,” said Virtue.

“Spare me your platitudes,” he said dryly.

“I consider them words to live by.”

“Only until you meet the Angel,” he predicted. “Then may God have mercy on your soul, for He’ll be presented with it soon enough.”

Part 3

The Jolly Swagman’s Book

11.

Come if you dare, come but beware,

Come to the lair of Altair of Altair.

Offer a prayer for the men foul and fair,

Trapped in the snare of Altair of Altair.

They tell a lot of stories about Altair of Altair out on the Frontier.

Some say that, like the Jolly Swagman, she was raised by aliens and grew up with a bitter hatred of her own race that the Swagman somehow avoided.

Others say she wasn’t human at all, but that she could change her shape at will and enticed her victims to their deaths with an irresistible siren song.

Homer of Troy, the self-proclaimed People’s Poet who spent half a lifetime trying unsuccessfully to write a saga of the Frontier that would rival Black Orpheus’ epic in popularity, swore that she was a mutant who killed her enemies by the use of mental thunderbolts that shattered their minds.

There was even a group on Walpurgis III, a planet colonized by covens and devil-worshipers, that believed she was a devoted practitioner of the Black Arts who brought destruction through spells and potions.