"Sure. Don't crowd," said Tompkins. "The boy's a little trigger nervous tonight. Maybe going to do your first job for Firebird, huh? Does she allow you gambling and drinking money?"
Nathan lifted his glass slowly and studied Tompkins and the men about him. He could feel the unplumbed depths of emotion that was being turned upon him.
Then he got it. It was their pent up resentment and hatred of Firebird. They would not have dared bait her like this. It would have led to shooting, and none of them wanted to be known as her killer.
Their own peculiar codes were responsible for this. Dueling with Firebird would be open admission that she was their equal. She was perfectly safe in the tavern full of thieves and killers who would have welcomed news of her death at the hand of someone else.
Nathan felt like laughing at himself for considering himself something of a noble protector as he had entered the "Orbit" behind Firebird. In reality, she was safe, but the spacemen didn't mean for him to be alive when he left.
"You've got me all wrong, gentlemen," said Nathan. "I think Firebird killed my father and I'm stringing along to keep tabs on her. And we have a little agreement that might interest you. Between us we have four of the Seven Jewels of Chamar—"
Instantly, the smirking, taunting grins became frozen deadliness. The circle pressed inward.
"I wouldn't come any closer," Nathan advised.
"Four of the Seven!" exclaimed Tompkins. "I think you're a liar."