"What now, Kurland?"
His hand stroked the gleaming butt of his gun. He looked at her, unseeing.
"Gion."
"No." Her voice was oddly flat, accented.
"We made a good bargain, Gion and I," he replied, his eyes accepting her. "The jewels for my men's lives. Now, I collect."
She came to her feet, lithe and graceful even in her ragged tatters. "Not with guns, Kurland! I can free your men. I can ruin Gion, smash his rotten empire. I'm a Recorder. My word could break him in any court from here to Pluto. The law can handle him."
"Our law is here," replied Kurland, gravely. His hand patted the black leather holster sheathing Heywood's gun.
"Outlaw guns!" she flared. "Is that your justice, here on Jupiter?"
"You have tasted Gion's!" he grimly reminded her. "Courts! Laws! And who will serve the Marward with the warrant, girl? He feeds a thousand men within this single fortress city. He rules the rest through fear."
She looked up the passage where the Marward had vanished and there was a strange and haunting look upon her lovely face.