What was it? Kortha had to know. Kortha sucked in his breath, realizing that the duel was between him and Guantra. Each had knowledge, and they had to trade to know where they stood. Guantra wanted to be sure of what? Of his friendship? But—why? He himself sought to test that elusive memory of his. It told him Ilse was wanton and Hurlgut a danger; but his senses belittled that memory.
Perhaps Guantra could be persuaded to give him the knowledge he sought. He put Ilse aside, placed mouth to the magnifone.
"Kortha on the beam, Guantra. Tell me something. Am I your friend, Guantra?"
The man with the jutting beard licked at his lips for a split second, but it was long enough. Kortha knew now that Guantra did not know! That meant that his senses might be right, after all; that his memory was wrong. And if his memory were wrong, then Ilse and Hurlgut were not what he thought them.
He listened to Guantra bluster, calling out to him to recall and act on their old friendship. Smiling grimly, he leaned closer to the image on the screen. Test him, Kortha!
"Let me broadcast to all Mars, Guantra. Let me tell Mars that we are friends."
"No," said Guantra swiftly. "That would not be politic right now. Better that you and I should meet, Kortha. Come aboard my flagship."
Afraid of what he might say, the Premier would not let him speak to Mars. Kortha wanted to know the reason why Guantra doubted their friendship. Looking at the cold austerity, the pride and ambition of the man as marked in the lines of his face and the manner of his bearing, Kortha rather thought the reason was not Ilse. A man like Guantra would not bother so about a woman.
"I will broadcast, Guantra," Kortha said slowly.
"No. I will have to stop that, my friend. I cannot allow it, until I have seen and spoken with you, face to face. I am coming in for you now."