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fell asleep.”
    Rick made a disgusted face. “That dratted cradle tune, again.”
    â€œYou think it works?”
    Rick shrugged, coloring. “It’s certainly a relaxing little ditty.”
    â€œJust out of curiosity, what were you thinking about just before you... succumbed?”
    The color in Rick’s face heightened. “You’ll laugh.”
    â€œOnly if I was thinking similar thoughts.”
    â€œWell... when I was a kid, my mom would read me books in one of those old flotation chairs. She’d turn the heating unit up just a bit and I’d sit there bobbing up and down in her lap drinking hot chocolate, and in about the middle of the second story...” He shrugged. “She never once let me spill the chocolate.”
    Rhys chuckled. “I was having hot cider before a roaring fire wrapped in my favorite blanket.” He looked at the padachi again, shaking his head. “Old wives’ tales and folk magic—they’ve done well by humanity for millennia.”
    â€œThis isn’t the beginning of a lecture on folklore, is it, Prof?”
    Rhys caught the look on Rick’s face and laughed. “No, Roddy, I’ll spare you that. Go ahead and get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
    He picked up Rick’s recorder, popped the tiny disk out and slipped it into his sporran, tossing the recorder back to its owner. “See you bright and early, apprentice Roddihalfs.”
    o0o
    They breakfasted at 0700 hours planetary time in a pleasant glen hard by the shuttle and still dressed in their shipboard “drabs.” Rhys Llewellyn drank five cups of coffee and jotted notes on his pocket pad.
    â€œYou look tired, sir,” observed Yoshi, then smiled shyly. “Did the lullaby wear off?”
    Rhys shook his head. “I had some preparations to make for the negotiations tomorrow morning.”
    â€œBut you have all day to do that, don’t you, sir?”
    â€œToday, we’ll need to make strategic and physical preparations. I figured I’d get the computer work out of the way last night.”
    â€œWhat physical preparations?” asked Rick, munching a piece of native fruit.
    â€œWe’ll need a banner, for one thing.”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œHaven’t you noticed that whenever a group of Chieftains gathers they each have a Clan banner behind them?”
    â€œI noticed. But we don’t have a Clan banner.”
    â€œNo. We have a corporate logo. And your job for the day is to see that that logo is put onto a banner. A very colorful banner. There’s still a good supply of those OmniClime tarps, which fortunately come in a myriad of bright colors. By the by, there’s also the matter of Ms. Price’s pallet for the banquet. The Pa-Kai will supply the wooden frame and set it up in the banquet circle, but it’s up to our Clan to provide proper ornamentation. Yoshi, you’re the ornamentation committee. See if you can determine what the well-turned out Chieftain is supposed to deck his or her self in.”
    Yoshi nodded eagerly, her eyes kindling. “I’ve already got a pretty good idea. It seems to be related to the goods a particular Clan produces... This is fun, sir.”
    Rick snorted, whether at Yoshi’s comment or the approaching visitor, Rhys wasn’t sure.
    â€œDon’t look now, but here comes the Count and he doesn’t look happy.”
    That was an understatement, Rhys decided. Zarber looked incensed. In fact, if smoke had been curling out of his ears, it would have seemed completely natural.
    â€œTo what do we owe this pleasant—”
    â€œI have no intention of making this pleasant, Llewellyn,” he said in his most profundo basso . “You are a scoundrel; an underhanded, sneaky, spineless individual—”
    â€œYes, I know what a scoundrel is, thank you,” said Rhys mildly. “How does it apply to me? I thought I was an archetypal