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over fear, as usual, and the fisherman pushed a small and badly joined boat into
the canal. He rowed while Jason bailed and they began a surreptitious tour of the
back canals. Aided by sleet, fog, and the fisherman's suddenly regained and
intimate knowledge of the waterways, they arrived unobserved at some crumbled
stone steps leading to a barred gate. The man swore that this was an entrance to
the Perssonoj stronghold. Jason, well versed in local custom by now, was aware
that it might be something quite different, even a way to the Mastreguloj he had
just left, and he kept one foot in the boat until a guard appeared with the
characteristic Perssonoj sunburst on his cloak. The fisherman received the final
payment with astonishment and rowed quickly away, muttering to himself.
Another guard was called, Jason's sword was taken from him, and he was quickly
brought to the Hertug's audience chamber.
"Traitor!" the Hertug shouted, dispensing with all formalities. "You
conspire to kill my men and flee, but I have you now-"
"Oh, stop it!" Jason said irritably, and shrugged away the guards who were
holding his arms. "I returned voluntarily, and that should mean something, even
in Appsala. I was kidnapped by the Mastreguloj, with the aid of a traitor in your
guard-"
"His name!"
"Benn't, deceased-I saw to that myself. Your trusted captain sold you out
to the competition, who wanted me to work for them, but I didn't accept. I didn't
think too much of their outfit and I left before they got around to making an offer.
But I brought a sample back with me." Jason pulled out the glass sphere of acid
and the guards dropped back, screaming, and even the Hertug went white.
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"The burning water!" he gasped.
"Exactly. And as soon as I get some lead it is going to become part of the
wet cell battery I was busy inventing. I'm annoyed, Hertug-I don't like being
kidnapped and pushed around. Everything about Appsala annoys me, and I have
some plans for the future. Clear these men out so I can tell my plans to you."
The Hertug chewed his lip nervously and looked at the guards. "You came
back," he said to Jason-"why?"
"Because I need you just as much as you need me. You have plenty of men,
power, and money. I have big plans. Now clear the serfs out."
There was a bowl of krenoj on the table and Jason rooted around for a
fresh one and bit off a piece. The Hertug was thinking hard.
"You came back," he said again. He seemed to find this fact astonishing.
"Let us. talk."
"Alone."
"Clear the chamber," he ordered, but he took the precaution of having a
cocked crossbow placed before him. Jason ignored it; he had expected no less. He
crossed to the badly glazed window and looked out at the island city. The storm
had stopped finally, and weak sunshine was lighting up the rain-darkened roofs.
"How would you like to own all that?" Jason asked.
"Speak on." The Hertug's little eyes glittered.
"I mentioned this before, but now I mean it-seriously. I am going to reveal
to you every secret of every other clan on this damned planet. I'm going to show
you how the d'zertanoj distill oil, how the Mastreguloj make sulphuric acid, how
the Trozelligoj build engines. Then I'm going to improve your weapons of war,
and introduce as many new ones as I can. I will make war so terrible that it will
no longer be possible. Of course it will still go on, but your troops will always win.
You'll wipe out the competition, one by one, starting with the weakest ones, until
you will be the master of this city, then of the whole planet. The riches of a world
will be yours, and your evenings will be enlivened by the horrible deaths you will
mete out to your enemies. What do you say?"
"Supren la Perssonoj!" the Hertug shouted, leaping to his feet.
"That's what I thought you would say. If I'm going to be stuck here for any
length of time I want to get in a few body blows to the system. I have been
entirely too uncomfortable, and it is time for a change."
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14
The days grew longer, the sleet turned to rain, but even that finally
stopped. The last clouds eventually blew out to sea and the sun shone down on
the city of Appsala. Buds opened, flowers blossomed and filled the air with
perfume, while from the warming waters of the canals there rose another odor,
less pleasant, that Jason could just as well have done without. But he had very
little time to notice it, for he was working long hours at both research and
production, a constantly exhausting task. Pure research and production
development were expensive, and when the bills mounted too high the Hertug
scratched in his beard and mumbled about the good old days. Then Jason had to
drop everything and produce a fresh miracle or two. The arc light was one; then
the arc furnace, which helped with the metallurgical work and made the Hertug
very happy, particularly when he found out how good it was for torture and fed a
captured Trozelligo into it until he told them what they wanted to know. When
this novelty palled, Jason introduced electroplating, which helped fill the treasury
both through jewelry sales and counterfeiting.
After opening the Mastreguloj glass sphere with elaborate precautions,
Jason satisfied himself that it did contain sulphuric acid, and he constructed a
heavy, but effective, storage battery. Still angry over the kidnapping, he led an
attack on a Mastreguloj barge and captured a large supply of acid, as well as
assorted other chemicals. These he was testing whenever he had the time. He had
followed a number of dead-end trails, but had been forced to abandon them. The
formula for gunpowder escaped him, and this depressed him, though it cheered
his assistants who had been raking through old manure piles for supplies of
saltpeter.
He had more success with caro) and steam engines, because of previous
experience, and developed a lightweight, sturdy marine engine. In his spare
moments he invented movable type, the telephone, and the loudspeaker-which,
with the addition of the phonograph record, did wonders for the religious
revenue in production of spirit voices. He also made a naval propeller to go with
his engine, and was busily perfecting a steam catapult. For his own pleasure he
had set up a still in his rooms, with which he manufactured a coarse but effective
brandy.
"All in all, things aren't going too badly," he said, lolling back in his
upholstered easy chair and sipping a glass of his latest and best. It had been a
warm day, and more than a bit choking with the effluvia that rose from the
canals, but now the evening sea breeze was cool and sweet as it blew in through
the open windows. Under his belt was a fine steak, cooked on a charcoal grill of
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