The Anointed One was waiting for him when he returned from the spaceport.

He entered the dining room, found a fruit plate already laid out for him, and promptly sat down. He took a long swallow from his water glass, then went to work on some citrus slices.

“Killing people seems to increase your appetite,” remarked the Anointed One dryly.

Lomax smiled and shook his head. “No, My Lord. But being out in that heat makes me want to replenish some fluids.”

“Did you remember your salt tablets?”

“No,” said Lomax, surprised. “I totally forgot about them.”

“As long as you remain on New Gobi, you must always keep them with you,” said the Anointed One. “You have become one of my most valued men. I should hate to lose you to a case of heat prostration.”

“I'd hate it every bit as much, My Lord,” replied Lomax. “I'll make sure I'm not without the tablets again.”

“Did you find your medication aboard your ship?” continued the Anointed One.

Lomax nodded. “And I recharged my powerpack.”

“I wouldn't have thought your weapon expended that much energy in this morning's altercation.”

“It didn't, My Lord,” answered Lomax. “But when you depend on your weapons for a living, you care for them the way a mother cares for her baby.” He forced a smile to his lips. “I can survive forgetting my salt tablets ... but if my weapons ever fail me, I'm not likely to get a second chance.”

“Very sensible,” said the Anointed One. “I approve.”

Lomax didn't know what to say next, so he fell silent and concentrated on his food.

“Tell me, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One, breaking the silence after a moment, “how do you think the Silicon Kid gained entrance to the fortress?”

“He had to have a confederate on the inside,” lied Lomax promptly.

“That is my conclusion, too. Have you any suggestions concerning whom it might have been?”

Lomax shook his head. “I haven't been here long enough, My Lord.” He paused. “But there's no question in my mind that an organization this size is riddled with traitors and double agents.”

“A few, perhaps,” admitted the Anointed One. “But riddled? I think not, Mr. Lomax.”

“I hate to disagree, My Lord,” said Lomax, “but whenever one man holds as much power and wealth as you do, it's an open invitation to, shall we say, disloyalty?”

“I am the Anointed One. My people follow me as a matter of faith and belief. Temporal rewards are secondary to them.”

“They're no more secondary to your followers than they are to me, My Lord,” said Lomax. “The only difference is that I make no bones about it.” He stared across the table at the ascetic, white-robed man. “Take your man on Olympus, for example.”

“Otis Korbekkian has served me loyally for seven years,” responded the Anointed One.

“Otis Korbekkian has served you for seven years,” responded Lomax.

“You are impugning his loyalty?” demanded the Anointed One.

“Let's say I'm trying to define it,” answered Lomax. “I'm sure he's loyal—to Otis Korbekkian. And to Mrs. Korbekkian, if there is one. And to the capitalistic principle. But I know for a fact that Korbekkian has taken commissions from people other than yourself, and has arranged various killings that you know nothing about.” He shrugged. “That doesn't make him disloyal, My Lord. In all likelihood his other dealings have no effect on you or your plans.”

“How do you know that he has accepted other commissions?” demanded the Anointed One.

“It's my business to know,” said Lomax. “I'm the kind of man he hires.”

“I don't believe you, Mr. Lomax.”

“That's your prerogative, My Lord,” said Lomax with an air of unconcern.

The Anointed One stared at him long and hard across the table. “Prove it,” he said at last.

“How?” asked Lomax. “It would just be my word against his.” He paused. “I suppose you could monitor his incoming and outgoing messages, if you wanted to go to the trouble.”

“I do not,” said the Anointed One. “The subject is closed.”

But Lomax saw the shadow of doubt cross his face, and he knew the subject was far from closed. Satisfied, he devoured the rest of his fruit plate, and spent the rest of the meal offering wild speculations as to which guards had been paid to turn a blind eye to the Kid's presence that morning. Then word of still another body turned up—some hapless attendant that the Kid had killed and hidden earlier in the day—and the Anointed One, suddenly in a rage, went off to see the corpse and question his guards, while Lomax returned to his room and spent most of the afternoon feigning sleep for the benefit of any unseen observers.

Things proceeded uneventfully for the next two days. Lomax remained in his quarters as much as possible, spoke as little as possible during meals, concerned himself with examining the fortress's security, secretly tested his ever-stronger left arm and publicly favored it, and even began developing a taste for blacksheep.

Then, in late afternoon two days after he had spoken to the Iceman, Lomax was summoned once again to the throne room, where Moses Mohammed Christ sat alone on his chair, a look of triumph on his long, lean face.

“You were right, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One, “as you have been right all along.”

“My Lord?” said Lomax, trying his best to look confused.

“Otis Korbekkian,” said the Anointed One.

“What about him?”

“He was also in the employ of the Prophet, as you yourself suggested.”

“I knew he was working for someone else besides you, My Lord,” replied Lomax. “I never said it was the Prophet.” He paused. “I assume you'll want me to eliminate him.”

“That has already been taken care of,” said the Anointed One.

“That's too bad,” said Lomax. “I might have been able to pry some information about the Prophet out of him.”

“I am in possession of all the information I need.”

“Oh?”

The Anointed One leaned forward excitedly on his throne, his coal black eyes shining with triumph. “She is hiding on a planet named Mozart in the Alpha Montana system—and she is practically defenseless!”

“You're sure of this?” asked Lomax.

“There is no doubt whatsoever!” exclaimed the Anointed One. “The Silicon Kid was sent here to divert my attention from her until she can build up her defenses. And from such information as I now possess, it is absolutely certain that Korbekkian also hired many others to wreak terror and confusion among us, to get us to look inward for traitors and conspirators rather than turning our eyes toward Mozart.”

“If your information is correct,” said Lomax carefully, “and if she is truly defenseless, then our next logical move is—”

“Attack!” cried the Anointed One, finishing his sentence for him. “I have summoned my forces here, and given orders to my commanders: we attack Mozart in three days’ time!”

“Can you mobilize that quickly, My Lord?” asked Lomax, amazed once again at the accuracy of the Iceman's assessment.

“Not all of my followers are warriors, and not all who are warriors are available to me,” answered the Anointed One. “But we will attack in force, with almost four million men and women in close to eight thousand vessels that have been equipped for war.”

“May I make a suggestion, My Lord?”

“Certainly.”

“I don't think any of us know the full extent of the Prophet's powers, if indeed she has any powers at all,” said Lomax. “But if we are to expose this many of our people to potential danger, then I think we should hit Mozart with everything we have. We should settle for nothing less than blowing it out of existence.”

“My own thinking precisely,” said the Anointed One, nodding his head in agreement. “We will spare no expense, withhold no weapon, and show no mercy.”

“Good,” said Lomax firmly. “I think you've made a wise decision, My Lord.” He smiled. “Today the Prophet, tomorrow the Democracy.”

“So it shall be,” intoned the Anointed One. “And you, Mr. Lomax, will be beside me to share in the spoils.”

“I wouldn't think there'd be anything left of Mozart to share in,” replied Lomax.

“There will be the glory of victory over my enemy, a victory in which you will have played a fundamental part.”

“I'm just doing what you pay me to do, My Lord,” said Lomax. “Nothing more.”

“Don't be modest, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One. “Without you, the Silicon Kid might well have killed me. And had you not expressed your doubts about Korbekkian, I might never have learned of the Prophet's whereabouts before she was ready to meet me in battle. You are truly one of the architects of our forthcoming victory.”

“I'm flattered that you should think so, My Lord,” answered Lomax.

“In fact,” continued the Anointed One magnanimously, “it would be unfair to you not to allow you to participate in this Holy War. I have decided to give you your own ship to command.”

“My own ship?” repeated Lomax, startled.

The Anointed One smiled. “I had my doubts about you initially, I confess it. But by your actions you have overcome every one of them. This is my way of rewarding you.”

“You're quite sure, My Lord?” asked Lomax. “I mean, I've killed many men, but I've never commanded a ship or led men into battle.”

“You will do both for the first of many times,” said the Anointed One.

“But—”

“I will have no more of your false modesty, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One, still smiling. “It really does not become you.” He got to his feet. “Our interview is over.”

Lomax returned unhappily to his room, wondering exactly what the Anointed One's smile actually meant.