Biron frowned. "Why was she trying to interfere with you, anyway? Making sure her boy friend didn't get hurt?"
Rizzett said, "Yes, she was! Only she thought I was the Autarch's man and was going to shoot you. I'll take back this rat now, and, Biron-"
"Yes?"
"Get back as soon as you can. He's still the Autarch, and the crew may need talking to. It's hard to break a lifetime habit of obedience...She's behind that rock. Get to her before she freezes to death, will you? She won't leave."
Her face was almost buried in the hood that covered her head, and her body was formless in the thick, enveloping folds of the space-suit lining, but his steps quickened as he approached her.
He said, "How are you?"
She said, "Better, thank you. I am sorry if I caused any trouble."
They stood looking at each other, and the conversation seemed to have burned itself out in two lines.
Then Biron said, "I know we can't turn time backward, undo things that have been done, unsay things that have been said. But I do want you to understand."
"Why this stress on understanding?" Her eyes flashed. "I have done nothing but understand for weeks now. Will you ten me again about my father?"
"No. I knew your father was innocent. I suspected the Autarch almost from the start, but I had to find out definitely. I could only prove it, Arta, by forcing him to confess. I thought I could get him to confess by trapping him into attempting to kill me, and there was only one way of doing that."
He felt wretched. He went on, "It was a bad thing to do. As bad, almost, as what he did to my father. I don't expect you to forgive me."
She said, "I don't follow you." He said, "I knew he wanted you, Arta. Politically, you would be a perfect matrimonial object. The name of Hinriad would be more useful for his purposes than that of Widemos. So once he had you, he would need me no longer. I deliberately forced you on him, Arta. I acted as I did, hoping you would turn to him. When you did, he thought he was ready to rid himself of me, and Rizzett and I laid our trap."
"And you loved me an the time?"
Biron said, "Can't you bring yourself to believe that, Arta?"
"And of course you were ready to sacrifice your love to the memory of your father and the honor of your family. How does the old doggerel go? You could not love me half so much, loved you not honor more!"
Biron said, miserably, "Please, Arta! I am not proud of myself but I could think of no other way."
"You might have told me your plan, made me your confederate rather than your tool."
"It was not your fight. If I had failed-and I might have -you would have remained out of it. If the Autarch had killed me and you were no longer on my side, you would be less hurt. You might even have married him, even been happy."
"Since you have won, it might be that I would be hurt at his loss."
"But you aren't."
"How do you know?"
Biron said desperately, "At least try to see my motives. Granted that I was foolish-criminally foolish-can't you understand? Can't you try not to hate me?"
She said softly, "I have tried not to love you and, as you see, I have failed."
"Then you forgive me."
"Why? Because I understand? No! If f were a matter of simply understanding, of seeing your motives, I would not forgive you your actions for anything I might have in life. If it were only that and nothing more! But I will forgive you, Biron, because I couldn't bear not to. How could I ask you to come back to me unless I forgave you?"
And she was in his arms, her weather-cold lips turning up to his. They were held apart by a double layer of thick garments. His gloved hands could not feel the body they embraced, but his lips were aware of her white, smooth face.
At last he said in concern, "The sun is getting lower. It's going to get colder."
But she said softly, "It's strange, then, that I seem to be getting warmer."
Together they walked back to the ship.
Biron faced them now with an appearance of easy confidence which he did not feel. The Linganian ship was large, and there were fifty in the crew. They sat now facing him. Fifty faces! Fifty Linganian faces bred from birth to unquestioning obedience to their Autarch.
Some had been convinced by Rizzett; others had been convinced by the arranged eavesdropping on the Autarch's statements to Biron earlier that day. But how many others were still uncertain or even definitely hostile?
So far Biron's talking had done little good. He leaned forward, let his voice grow confidential. "And what are you fighting for, men? What are you risking your lives for? A free Galaxy, I think. A Galaxy in which each world can decide what is best in its own way, produce its own wealth for its own good, be slave to none and master of none. Am I right?"
There was a low murmur of what might have been agreement, but it lacked enthusiasm.
Biron went on, "And what is the Autarch fighting for? For himself. He is the Autarch of Lingane. If he won, he would be Autarch of the Nebular Kingdoms. You would replace a Khan by an Autarch. Where would be the benefit of that? Is that worth dying for?"
One in the audience cried out, "He would be one of us, not a filthy Tyranni."
Another shouted. "The Autarch was looking for the rebellion world to offer his services. Was that ambition?"
"Ambition should be made of sterner stuff, eh?" Biron shouted back, ironically. "But he would come to the rebellion world with an organization at his back. He could offer them all of Lingane; he could offer them, he thought, the prestige of an alliance with the Hinriads. In the end, he was pretty sure, the rebellion world would be his to do with what he pleased. Yes, this was ambition.