Garth gulped brandy better than any he had tasted in years. He didn't bother with a glass. Brown watched him with an almost imperceptible curl of the lip.
"Thanks.... When do I get that ten thousand?"
"When we're back here. I don't trust you quite enough to let you have it now."
Garth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, considered, and drank again. "I won't run out on you. You're after that Ancients' power-source, aren't you?"
Brown's eyes narrowed a bit. "Any of your business?"
"Not in the way you mean. But I know the Black Forest. I might be able to give you some ideas, if I'm not left too much in the dark. Still, I can guess a little. I know you expect to run into the Zarno."
"Yeah?"
Garth made an impatient gesture. "Hell, why did you want me as a guide? It wasn't only because I knew the Forest. I can speak the Ancient Tongue—the same language the Zarno are supposed to use. You'll want me to palaver with them."
"Maybe." Brown went to the back of the truck and found a fresh pack of cigarets. "We can talk about that later."
"We ought to talk now. I know what sort of equipment you'll need in the Forest. If you run out on Benson half-equipped, it'll be just too bad."