"You understand," nodded Gion, leaning against the door. "You will return, and with the jewels, or your five young companions will be swinging there to greet you when my men take you, as they took you once before, Kurland."
The outlaw turned, ice-veined, but Gion did not stir.
"I am a prisoner. Judged and doomed. No ship, no crew."
"Escapes have been arranged before."
Kurland surveyed the big man curiously. "Why not go yourself on this golden errand, Marward?"
Gion shrugged. "Leaving my empire to the wolves? You know I dare not, nor trust a lieutenant in my place. This is not a secret for friends or followers."
"I am no friend of yours. You dare trust me?"
"Outlaw, fugitive, renegade ... need I fear you, Kurland?" smiled Gion coolly. "My word against yours."
Kurland nodded slowly. "I see. But should I return with the jewels, what assurance have I that my crew and I do not instantly decorate your gallows yonder?"
"None," admitted Gion. "Reliance upon my word, I imagine, would give you scant comfort, but it is not to my interest to have even the slightest suspicion turned upon me while the jewels are in my possession. Compared to them, you and your arrogant little band are not worth the snapping of a broken twig. Bring me the Orions, Kurland, and your five slip the noose with a day's grace to be beyond my grasp. What more do you require?"