“This I will not tell you.”

“Will not or cannot?” asked the Swagman.

“I said what I said,” replied Sitting Bull stoically.

“I didn’t realize you were afraid of him,” said the Swagman condescendingly.

“I fear no one.”

“Then why won’t you tell us what we want to know?”

“Because he makes war against Men. Because he brings grief to Men. Because he brings chaos to Men. Because he is Santiago.”

“Cut the crap and name your price,” said Virtue irritably.

Sitting Bull turned to her, his pupils dilating and contracting as he breathed. “Women do not speak in council.”

“Women with money do,” she replied. “How much do you want?”

“You are very irritating, even for a member of your race,” said the alien. “I begin to understand why Dimitri Sokol wants you dead.” He stared coldly at her. “There is no price. I will not tell you.”

“You mean you haven’t got the guts!” snapped Virtue.

“We fear no one,” said Sitting Bull, pulling back his lips and exposing a row of bright yellow teeth. “Even the Democracy cringes in fear of the Great Sioux Nation.”

“Which in turn cringes in fear of Santiago, a common criminal with a price on his head.”

“Santiago is not the only Man with a price on his head,” said Sitting Bull meaningfully. “You would do well to remember that.”

“Is that a threat?” demanded Virtue. “If there’s a price on my head, it was put there by a criminal on Pegasus—and if you try to cash in on it, you’re going to find out just what happens to self-important aliens who go around killing human journalists! Have you got that straight?”

Sitting Bull merely stared at her and made no reply.

“Now let’s talk business,” said Virtue. “We’re in a hurry.”

The alien continued staring at her.

“Now listen, you—” she began heatedly.

The Swagman touched her arm. “That’s enough,” he said. “He’s not trying to jack up the price; he means what he says. And in case you’ve forgotten, we’re surrounded by his enforcers.”

“Are you trying to tell me that we came all this way for nothing?” demanded Virtue. “We talk to him for thirty seconds and just give up, is that it?”

“Not entirely,” replied the Swagman. “We can at least find out how the competition is doing.” He turned back to Sitting Bull. “We also seek information that does not concern Santiago.”

“I will listen.”

“There is a bounty hunter known as the Angel. Where is he now?”

They went through the same ritual about whom such information could and could not damage, after which Sitting Bull acknowledged that he could come up with the Angel’s present location in a matter of minutes. He summoned a blue alien named Vittorio, asked him something in a tongue Virtue could not identify, dismissed him, and turned back to the Swagman.