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Dion’s face was neither distinguished nor particularly memorable. Only the movement of his hands indicated quiet confidence and competence that warned the agent to be wary. Whether or not the man was a Terran was not discernible from his unexceptional appearance, but he was obviously skilled in the control both of himself and others. And from the respect with which he was treated it was obvious that he was nearly a god in the eyes of Anharitte.
    The auctioneer held up his hands for attention. His prologue was treated to a quantity of good-natured banter from the onlooking assembly, but this died when Zinder herself was brought out.
    Ren was stunned. He had seen the work of beauticians on seven prime worlds, but never in all his experience had he seen such exquisite presentation of the female form as Zinder managed on her way to the rostrum. The audience of perhaps a thousand held its breath as she walked on stage in burnished radiance. Only Dion himself seemed unimpressed.
    Even the auctioneer became speechless. Though he had issued instructions that Zinder be readied for the market, he had not anticipated the skill in the hands of several inhabitants of Magda whose task it had somehow become. He started to make his customary appeal to would-be purchasers, but seemed to become awed by the wonder of it all. Evidently lost for words, he finally paid her the ultimate tribute—he kneeled and kissed her hand.
    A cheer rose from the assembly.
    Catuul Gras came coldly to his feet. ‘I bid you five barr for the bond,’ he said.
    So low a price was a calculated insult. The audience tensed with anticipation. It was going to be an evening to remember.
    ‘Raised to the second power,’ said Dion-daizan unhurriedly.
    ‘Six barr to the second power,’ said Catuul Gras. He was playing his hand narrowly.
    ‘To the third power,’ said Dion-daizan.
    ‘Seven to the third power,’ Catuul said.
    Ren, whose mathematical training probably transcended that of any in the watching public, lapsed into mental calculation of the true value of the bids, unsettled by the way in which the Imaiz each time multiplied the value of the bid by raising the index. It was absolutely certain that at some point the Imaiz was going to approach a figure he could not possibly afford, and at that point Catuul must withdraw. He was relieved to note that, as the values rose, the scribe became more punctilious about obtaining confirmation before proceeding.
    Nevertheless, Ren continued disconcerted by the actions of the Imaiz , who seemed determined to drive the price into truly astronomical figures.
    It said much for the mental constitution of the auctioneer that he was able to continue functioning as evenly as he did in the face of the rapidly mounting values. He was sweating profusely and developed a marked tremor of the limbs when his due commission on the sale would have made him rich beyond all his dreams. Still the contest continued.
    Ren was now using a pocket calculator to bring out the absolute values of the bids in terms of the galactic credits. The Imaiz used no calculating aids, but Ren had the feeling that Dion-daizan was nevertheless completely aware of the real value of the figures with which they were playing. Only Catuul seemed out of his depth and repeatedly looked at Ren for confirmation that he was intended to continue.
    ‘Ten barrs raised to the sixth power,’ said Catuul uneasily. This was more money than he had ever heard of.
    ‘Ten to the seventh power.’ Dion-daizan showed slight signs of agitation although Ren suspected the wizard was well within his ample budget.
    ‘Eleven to the seventh.’
    The Imaiz faltered and a gasp of anticipation ran through the watching crowd. Ren felt a savage elation at the thought of having placed the Imaiz on public trial. It was a beautiful piece of harassment.
    ‘Eleven barrs to the eighth power,’ said the Imaiz finally.
    Somebody in the crowd with some appreciation of the amount involved gave