“And the spokesmen for all the groups represented at this meeting,” Sittas concluded, “is Cianthas of Katan.”
Clanthas nodded pleasantly.
“You are Merdon’s father?” Vorgens asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“I can see the family resemblance. The commander of the city garrison has told me quite a bit about you.”
Clanthas answered evenly, “I could tell you quite a bit about the commander.”
“I imagine you could,” Vorgens said, grinning.
“We are ready to begin,” Clanthas said, “if you are.”
“Is Merdon going to be here, or are you representing him?”
Clanthas’ broad face clouded over. “I do not know if Merdon intends to join this conference or not. No one here represents him, or his group.”
“I will represent Merdon,”
Vorgens turned round in his chair and saw Altai standing in the arched doorway of the conference room. She was still wearing a “field uniform” of slacks and tunic, but somehow she looked more feminine than Vorgens had ever seen her to be.
The men rose from their seats. Altai went to the chair next to her uncle’s and Sergeant Mclntyre stepped over and held the chair as she sat down.
“I believe, then,” Vorgens said, “that all the factions on Shinar are represented—with the exception of the Komani, who are not noticeably enthusiastic about truce conferences.”
They all murmured agreement.
“The purpose of this meeting is quite simple,” the Watchman began. “Everyone here, I think, wants peace for Shinar. The question is: what is the cost of peace?”
“Merdon’s price for peace is well known,” Altai said.
“He has instructed me to tell you that he will stop fighting when the Terrans leave Shinar. Freedom is his price.”