declared Kiper.

"Who cares what they wanted? I know what I want, and that's what counts!"

Cloyd called out: "For once Kiper is on the mark! Bravo, Kiper!"

Shugart put on a lewd smirk.

"He'll have to wait for Pussycat Palace; then he can have as much as he likes."

"All he can pay for, at any rate," said Uther.

"Credit forms are not accepted."

Cloyd Diffin made a sly suggestion: "Since Aries is coming we should try for the wholesale rate."

Aries lowered his heavy eyebrows and scowled down the table.

"I've heard about enough of this talk! It's far off the mark, and everyone knows it!"

Shugart Veder said brightly: "Come, now, fellow Growlers!

Let's concentrate on our goals! Yesterday I saw an advertisement for the new Black Andromeda that actually made me salivate with longing!"

"Bah! Too small!" said Kiper.

"I'll take a Pentar Conquestor, maybe with recessed pods, for that sleek look!"

Jardine gave a contemptuous snort.

"Have you no taste? What of the Dancred Mark Twenty? There's true style for you! A bit pr icy of course, but what's money?"

"Nothing very important," said Cloyd.

"Just the elixir of life."

"A delightful word," sighed Uther.

"It tinkles with sweet overtones:

poetry and luscious fruits and the pit-a-pat of beautiful girls!"

"Pit-a-pat?" asked Kiper.

"What is 'pit-a-pat'? I'm old enough now to know."

"Take it and pay for it and don't ask questions," said Uther.

"That's my best advice."

Shugart said: "Money has always been our great problem, even though the basic philosophy is simple."

"I wish I found it so," said Kiper wistfully.

"Nothing to it," said Shugart.

"First, locate someone with money. Second, learn what he wants more than the money.

Third, make this available to him. It works every time."

Kiper asked: "In that case, how is it that you are not rich?"

"You've heard enough for now," said Shugart with dignity.

"I

suggest that you lean back in your chair, drink wine and dream of pit-a-pat while your betters discuss serious matters."

Jardine said: "There's Namour! He knows all about such things ... Boy, Namour! Over here! Join the Bold Lions for a change!"

Namour turned his head and appraised the table. Tonight, fixed into his silver hair on the right side of his head, he wore a small but elegant confection of black iron, polished jet cabochons, with a single carbuncle glowing with the sultry fury of a red star: presumably the present of an admirer. With a languid step he approached the table.

"Hard at your lucubrations, so I see."

Cloyd blinked.

"Quite right, or so I suppose. We're also doing some deep thinking. Draw up a chair! Jardine, pour Namour a mug of that good Sancery! Namour, drink up!"

"Thank you." Namour seated himself. A black twill jacket with a high-collared black shirt set off his aquiline features to perfection. He tasted the wine, and his eyebrows vaulted high. He looked askance into the mug.

"Sancery, did you say? Good Sancery? What are they serving you? Waiter, if you please! What is this dark-colored liquid? I've been told it's Sancery, but that is hard to believe."

"It's from the keg we call Bold Lion Reserve, sir."

"I see. Bring me something from a keg less confused as to its antecedents: some of that Laverty Delasso will do nicely."

Uther Offaw looked ruefully into his own mug.

"Well, at least it's cheap."

"Never mind the wine," said Shugart.

"Our problem is that we want to buy a space yacht."

"That's a fairly common ambition," said Namour.

"I'm in the market myself."

"Really? What do you have in mind?"