"There's nothing left of the ship but atoms, and no one can say what happened to it. Jubb does not have you two, but he can't prove it as long as you're kept out of sight. So we keep you out of sight, and at the same time press demands to Jubb for your return. It looks as though he's hiding you, or has killed you, in fear of the storm he has raised. The more he doesn't give you up the more human opinion turns against him, and the more his own people figure he's made them nothing but trouble. Meanwhile, the Wanbecqs are on their way home with a big story. We can still have our war if we want it. And Jubb's days are numbered."
Durham said slowly, "What if he decides to use the Bitter Star?"
Morrison stared at him, and then laughed. "Don't try to frighten me with my own bogeyman. I took a story a thousand years old and resurrected it and talked it up until it caught. But that's all it is, a story."
"Are you sure? And what about the darkbirds? They seem to get around. Won't they tell Jubb where we are?"
"He'd have a hard time proving it on the word of a shadow. Besides, there are defenses against them. They won't interfere."
"I suppose," said Durham, taking the bottle into his hand as though to pour again, "that it wouldn't bother you to know that one of them is in here now."
Morrison did not take his eyes from Durham's face. "Hawtree made a stinking choice in you. Put down that bottle."
Durham grinned. He raised the bottle higher and chanted, "Jubb, Jubb, Jubb!"
Morrison said between his teeth, "This would have had to be done anyway." Still watching Durham, he reached one swift hand into the belt of his tunic. Susan made a muffled cry and started to get up. None of the motions were finished. A shadow came out from the darkness of a corner behind Morrison's chair. It flicked against him and he fell across the table, quite still. The darkbird came and hung in the air in front of Durham.
"Jubb," it said.