A Call to Arms by Robert Sheckley

Babylon 5. And I was sure of it when Rolf coldcocked you, then took you to Bishop.”
    “Were you there?” Dureena asked. “No. I didn’t see that part. But I heard about it. I stay well away from Guild meetings. It doesn’t pay to pry into thieves’ secrets. But that’s what Rolf always does when there’s a new arrival who shows thieving tendencies but suffers from a lack of credentials.”
    “I have my credentials,” Dureena said.
    “That much is obvious, now. Otherwise you would never have walked away from the Guild meeting. As good as Bishop is at thieving, they say he’s even better at hiding the bodies of those who don’t meet his criteria.”
    “You know a lot about the Thieves’ Guild. “
    “I’ve had my dealings with them before. Bishop and I were friends once, and Rolf used to dine at my table, when I had the wherewithal to set one.”
    “And now?”
    “We had an unfortunate falling-out. Pity, because I have an interesting project for which I need a good thief. It is something that could enrich the thief and myself.”
    “So you said earlier. Why didn’t you make a deal with Bishop when you were still friends?”
    “Before I take someone into my confidence, I have to feel certain I can trust them. Our disagreement came before I felt I could show these to Bishop or Rolf.” Vlast’s hand snaked into his layered garment and came out with a half a dozen photographs. He handed them to Dureena, who glanced at them with minor interest. They were old, ragged around the edges, and blurred.
    “Big deal,” Dureena murmured. “Judging from the level of skill shown here, I’m betting you took them yourself.” She handed them back to him.
    “I beg of you, study them. They will confirm the story I’m about to tell. In fact, they will tell you the story better than I can.”
    “This is growing tedious,” Dureena said. “Am I supposed to do this standing here on this street corner?”
    “Permit me to buy you a drink,” Vlast said smoothly. “We are no great distance from the Red Hawk Bar. I run a modest tab there.”
    “I could use a drink or two,” Dureena said. “And some dinner, too.”
    “This way,” Vlast said. “And you need fear no foul play in the Red Hawk.”
    “Glad you told me that.” Dureena was sarcastic. “Really makes me feel a lot better. Lead the way.”
     

Chapter 20
     
    The Red Hawk, nestled in Down Below, proved to be a Quonset-shaped building wedged in between a curving wall and a stacked pile of thick concrete pipes no one had found a use for yet. The atmosphere was dark, streaked with layers of grime left by the smoke. There were flashes from concealed lighting that did little to help you find your way between the tables.
    Vlast passed something to the bouncer, a huge Human in a black T-shirt, and they were ushered to a booth at the end of the room. No sooner were they settled than a waiter came by, a Llort, Dureena guessed, to give them a menu that was printed on heavy cardboard. Vlast ordered for them both, suggested a local beer, and didn’t even frown when Dureena agreed but asked for a shot of whiskey on the side.
    When the drinks had been served, he handed Dureena the photographs again. “The tale is brief,” he said, “and it will tell you who I am and what I am doing here. It will also give you a very broad clue as to what I desire of your skills.”
    Dureena sipped her whiskey, drank down half the beer, and scanned the photos, this time affording them more attention.
    One photo portrayed a stately room on a planet that through a large picture window-boasted a yellow atmosphere streaked with violet. In the room stood a gaudily dressed man with a crown--seemingly the ruler of the place. And there was another man whom she had no difficulty in recognizing as Vlast-but a younger Vlast, and much better dressed. In fact, a Vlast who actually seemed a person of consequence. The other pictures showed different views of the same scene.
    “Okay,” Dureena