"As I have told you, I am a businessman. Until I have turned the girl over to the priests I cannot be sure of my payment. This girl, as you know, is not without friends. If Captain Jareth knew that she was here he would tear this place apart, he and his crew. Those men have rather an impressive reputation as fighters, and while my guard here—"
"You've been drinking too much of your own rotten liquor, Mytor. Why should I try to save her at the eleventh hour? To hand her back to her lover?"
"I never drink my own liquor, Mr. Ransome." He took a sip of his kali in confirmation. "I have seen love take many curious shapes."
Ransome stood up. "Save your memoirs. I want a guard to get me to the ship you promised me. And I want it now."
Mytor did not move. The guards, ranged around the walls, stood silent but alert.
"Mytor."
"Yes, Mr. Ransome?"
"There isn't any ship. There never was."
The Venusian shrugged. "It would have been easier for you if you hadn't guessed. I'm really sorry."
"So you'll make a double profit on this deal. I was the bait for Dura-ki, and Irene was bait for me. You are a good businessman, Mytor."