of the other faces were blank and cold and hard to read. Raymond Ortega was smiling slyly, and the big one called Kurt was frowning, and Valerie looked nervous, and Katherine-she had on her thin, hard face such a look of utter loathing that Marsh flinched to see it.
Then Marsh looked directly across the table to where Damon Julian was seated, and found Julian staring back at him. His eyes were black, hard and shiny as a lump of the best coal. Marsh saw pits there, endless bottomless pits, a chasm waiting to swallow them all up. He wrenched his eyes away, unwilling to even try to stare down Julian, as he had foolishly tried to stare down York so long ago at the Planters' House. Julian smiled, glanced up again at Joshua, sipped at his cold coffee, and listened. Abner Marsh did not like that smile, nor the depth of those eyes, All at once he was afraid again.
And finally Joshua finished, and sat down.
"The steamboat is a fine idea," Julian said pleasantly. His soft voice carried the length of the saloon. "Your drink may even have its uses. From time to time. The rest, dear Joshua, you must forget." His tone was charming, his smile relaxed and brilliant.
Someone drew in his breath sharply, but no one dared to speak. Abner Marsh sat up very straight. Joshua frowned. "Excuse me," he said.
Julian made a languid gesture of dismissal. "Your story makes me sad, dear Joshua," he said. "Raised among the cattle, now you think as they do. It is not your fault, of course. In time you will learn, you will celebrate your true nature. They have corrupted you, these little animals you have lived among, they have filled you with their small moralities, their feeble religions, their tedious dreams."
"What are you saying?" Joshua's voice was angry.
Julian did not answer him directly. Instead he turned to Marsh. "Captain Marsh," he asked, "that roast you so enjoyed was once part of a living animal. Do you suppose that, if that beast could talk, he would consent to being eaten?" His eyes, those fierce black eyes, were locked on Marsh, demanding an answer.
"I... hell, no... but..."
"But you eat him anyway, do you not?" Julian laughed lightly. "Of course you do, Captain, don't be ashamed of it."
"I ain't ashamed," Marsh said stoutly. "It's only a cow."
"Of course it is," said Julian, "and cattle are cattle." He looked back at Joshua York. "But the cattle may see it differently. However, that ought not trouble the captain here. He is a higher order of being than his cow. It is his nature to kill and eat, and the cow's to be killed and eaten. You see, Joshua, life is really very simple.
"Your errors rise from being raised among cows, who have taught you not to consume them. Evil, you talk about. Where did you learn that concept? From them, of course, from the cattle. Good and evil, those are cattle words, empty, intended only to preserve their worthless lives. They live and die in mortal dread of us, their natural superiors. We haunt even their dreams, so they seek solace in lies, and invent gods who have power over us, wanting to believe that somehow crosses and holy water can master us.
"You must understand, dear Joshua, that there is no good or evil, only strength and weakness, masters and slaves. You are feverish with their morality, with guilt and shame. How foolish that is. These are their words, not ours. You preach of new beginnings, but what shall we begin? To be as cattle? To burn beneath their sun, work when we might take, bow to cattle gods? No. They are animals, our natural inferiors, our great and beautiful prey. That is the way of things."
"No," said Joshua York. He pushed back his chair and rose, so he stood over the table like a pale, slender goliath. "They think, they dream, and they have built a world, Julian. You are wrong. We are cousins, both sides of the same coin. They are not prey. Look at all they have done! They bring beauty into the world. What have we created? Nothing. The red thirst has been our bane."
Damon Julian sighed. "Ah, poor Joshua," he said. He sipped his brandy. "Let the cattle create-life, beauty, what you will. And we shall take their creations, use them, destroy them if we choose. That is the way of it. We are the masters. Masters do not labor.