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  "The one with the scars? A monk. Brother Lyndom. He was old and was giving me tuition. We went swimming one day and I saw his body. It was horrible. All seared and puckered as if burned and torn. Later I learned that he'd been tortured on some world where he'd gone to set up a church but when I asked him what had happened he just laughed and said he'd run into a swarm of angry bees. I guess that's why I respect monks. I wanted to be one once, but that was before I learned I had no real choice in determining my future. And perhaps it wasn't in me. I'm too much of a coward to face what they put up with."

  "Most are." Dumarest reared to sit upright then threw his legs over the edge of the couch. "Where's that oil?"

  It was warm, scented, slippery beneath his hands as they moved against the other's body. His fingers, stronger, if lacking the fine skill an expert would possess, dug deep into fat and muscle.

  As Angado relaxed he said, "Was the monk with your people on Lychen?"

  "That's right."

  "What happened?" Dumarest filled his palms with more oil. "What made you leave home?"

  "It's an old story. My father married late and was old when I was born. He died in a crash and my mother with him. My uncle took over until I became of age. By then Perotto had become the real head. I tried to take over but couldn't manage." Angado stirred beneath Dumarest's hands. "Maybe I should have fought harder but I didn't know how. So I compromised."

  "And?"

  "I drifted. Just traveled around. What else?"

  "There's no harm in that." Dumarest slapped a thigh and began to knead Angado's back as he turned over to lie prone on the couch. "The trouble is it doesn't get you anywhere. Ever think of going back?"

  "To Lychen? No. That was the deal."

  "Deals can be changed. Don't you ever get homesick?"

  "No. Do you?"

  "Often." Dumarest moved his hands up to the base of the neck and probed at the tension he found there. "So where will you go? There's not much here on Yuanka."

  "I guess not." Angado lay silent for a while, speaking as Dumarest lowered his hands to the shoulders. "You saved my life," he said abruptly. "I'm not forgetting that."

  "So?"

  "You don't have to be stranded here. We could travel together. I've always wished I had a companion and we seem to get along. Just as if you were my older brother." He forced lightness into his tone. "I've always wanted an older brother. As a kid I was always alone and after my parents went-well, uncle did his best but it wasn't the same. Anyway, I owe you."

  The truth and Dumarest didn't argue. "It takes money to buy passage."

  "You don't have to tell me that." Angado twisted his head to look upward, smiling, confident he would get his own way. "We've been robbed and cheated but it doesn't matter. I've got money. As much as we need. All I have to do is get it. Earl?" His smile widened as Dumarest nodded. "Then it's a deal. Good. Let's be on our way."

  * * *

  Credit Debutin had branches scattered throughout the Burdinnion and that on Yuanka occupied a prominent position on the main plaza. Dumarest waited outside as Angado entered, looking at the shops ringing the area, the familiar figure standing outside the casino. Brother Lloyd, somber in his robe, a bowl of chipped plastic in his hand, was busy collecting alms.

  A good position, as he knew; gamblers were superstitious when it came to luck. A coin on entering could placate the goddess of fortune and if you were successful another was her just tribute. Even losers dropped a coin in the bowl in the hope of bettering future chances.

  "Earl!" Angado came from the bank, his face drawn. "I don't understand it," he said. "I just don't understand it."

  "No money?"

  "No, but-"

  "Leave it." A cafe stood to one side and Dumarest led the way toward it. At a table he ordered a pot of tisane and waited until it had been served and poured before looking at his companion. "No money," he said. "Did they tell you why?"

  "Yes, but it's crazy. The account's been stopped. I can't understand it. The arrangement was plain; I can draw at any branch of Credit Debutin against the family account. Five thousand ryall a month. That's Lychen currency," he explained. "It's converted to local."

  "How many zobars would that be?"

  "Over ten thousand." Angado met Dumarest's eyes. "I told you I had money."

  Dumarest said, "Have you an account? A credit balance?" His right hand moved toward his left forearm checking as he halted the subconscious gesture. "Any money at all?"

  "Only what we split." Angado looked helplessly at the tisane. "I can't understand it. Perotto gave me his word and there's never been any difficulty before. Just my name, thumb-print and code number and the cash is handed over." His hand clenched, slammed down on the table with force enough to send tisane slopping from the cups. "What the hell's going on?"

  The waitress came from within the cafe, attracted by the noise, frowning at the mess. Dumarest dropped coins on the table. "For your trouble," he explained. "Would you bring me a sheet of notepaper? Nothing special, a leaf from a book will do."

  The paper was thick, rough, jagged down one edge. Dumarest placed it on the table before Angado.

  "Write me a promissory note. It's a gambling debt for five hundred and date it before we were dumped. No," he amended. "Earlier than that. Before you took passage on the Thorn."

  "When I was on Tysa?"

  "That'll do." Dumarest took the paper when Angado had finished. He folded it, opened it, dropped it on the ground and trod on it. Picking it up he scuffed the sheet and stained it with tisane. Folding it again he tucked it under his tunic and rested it beneath his armpit. "How did they treat you in there?"

  "The bank?" Angado scowled. "Like dirt!"

  "I want the truth."

  "They were cold. Hostile, even. They just said there was no account and no funds for me. I argued but got nowhere. The instructions had been revoked and no money would be paid."

  "Did they check you out? Your thumbprint or-"

  "No. Nothing. They just weren't interested. I can't understand it. Perotto swore that-what the hell's gone wrong?"

  "Think about it," advised Dumarest. "Now let's see if I can cash this note."

  The man behind the counter was snobbishly supercilious. He picked up the paper with caution, nose wrinkling at the odor of human perspiration, unfolding it as if it could bite.

  "Yours?"

  "It's mine." Dumarest leaned over the counter thrusting his face toward the other. "A bearer promissory note, right? You pay whoever presents it. I'm presenting it."

  "I meant was it issued to you?"

  "It's a bearer note." Dumarest let impatience edge his tone. "What the hell does it matter who it was issued to? I've got it. Check it out and give me the money."

  "If you'd like to wait? Come back later-"

  "Now!" Dumarest looked beyond the man. "You the boss here? If you can't handle the job maybe I'd better speak to someone who can."

  He relaxed as the man hurried away to confer with others. The note was genuine, drawn on the Credit Debutin, carrying Angado's signature, code number and thumbprint. Those details could be checked against the computer data in the bank. He straightened as the cashier returned, another man at his side. One who waited until they were alone.

  "Mister-?" He shrugged as Dumarest made no answer. "No matter. I'm the manager here and I'm afraid I have bad news for you. This note of yours cannot be met."

  "You mean it's a fake?"

  "No, I'm not saying that. It seems genuine enough and normally I'd accept it but there are no longer funds to meet it."

  "He's broke?"

  "Not broke-dead. The account has been closed." Frowning the manager added, "It's odd. You're the second man who's come in asking about that account. The other claimed to be the person himself."

  "Maybe he was."

  "Impossible. The report from head office was most explicit. That's why no money can be paid against that note. Of course you can make due representation to the estate for settlement but
that will take time. My advice to you is to sell it. You'll have to take a loss, naturally, but-"

  "Sell it? Who the hell would buy junk like this?"

  "At a quarter face value?" The manager met Dumarest's eyes. "I would for one-the Karroum own most of Lychen."

  Chapter Nine

  Angado had gone when Dumarest emerged from the bank, the monk seated in his place. Brother Lloyd looked tired, grateful for the tisane he had been given. As Dumarest approached he looked up and began to rise from his chair.

  "Sit down." Dumarest dropped into the space facing him. "Did he leave word?"

  "Yes. He's in there." The monk gestured toward the casino. "He said to be sure and tell you where he had gone."

  A fool unable to restrain his impatience and seeking novelty to pass the time. Dumarest helped himself to some of the tisane and leaned back in his chair as he sipped the fragrant brew. Thoughtful as he reviewed the situation.

  Angado was a liability and yet it was hard to think of him as such. A danger; those who wanted him dead would try again and to be close was to invite disaster. A man now without assets and only one proven skill. Yet he held potential value; the resources of his House and Family. Wealth, influence, power-things Dumarest could use in his search for Earth and that search could begin on Lychen where Angado belonged.

  He stood at a table, face flushed with excitement as he watched the bounding progress of a ball. One which bounced at the edges of ranked divisions to hover and finally come to rest.

  "Red. Even. Eighteen." The croupier's voice was a drone. "Place your bets."

  Angado had lost. He lost again. As he went to put more coins on the board Dumarest caught his arm.

  "We need to talk."

  "You're back! Good!" Angado smiled his pleasure. "One more turn and I'll be with you."

  "Now!"

  "One more turn."

  He played and lost and ordered wine as he led the way to a table set in an alcove flanked with mirrors. The girl who brought it was young, enticing in her slit gown, smiling as she saw her tip.

  "Anything else, my lord?"

  "Food. A plate of delicacies. The best."

  "No food." Dumarest was harsh. "Not yet." Then, as Angado made to protest, he added, savagely, "Do as you like after we've spoken. Now we have things to settle. Why didn't you tell me you were rich?"

  "I'm not. I told you about the arrangement. Anyway, what does it matter?" Angado sipped, drank, refilled his glass. "Drink up, Earl, enjoy yourself. We can afford it."

  "No."

  "Why not? You got the money, didn't you?"

  "A quarter of face value." Dumarest stacked coins on the table. "Your share. All you're going to get. If you want to squander it go ahead. It's your money."

  Looking at it Angado said, slowly, "What are you telling me?"

  "You're dead. Officially dead. No cash and no credit. Your notes won't be met. From now on you make your own way." Dumarest picked up his glass, lifted it in a mock toast. "Freedom, Angado. Let's drink to it-you can't afford to waste the wine."

  He watched as Angado obeyed, the truth swallowed with the ruby liquid, cold realization dampening the euphoria of alcohol. As yet life to Angado had been an adventure, one padded by the cushions of wealth, now those cushions had been tweaked away and he was going to get hurt.

  Dumarest said, "Think of Lowtown. Remember it. That's where you could wind up unless you're careful. Bear it in mind, the dirt, the stink, the decay." The grinding poverty, the pain, the desperation. An alien world to one accustomed to riches. A hostile one to a man arrogant with the memory of wealth. "Do you still feel hungry?"

  Angado shook his head, remembering the cost of the wine, the loss at the table.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Get back to Lychen. There has to be some mistake. Perotto will correct it. He-"

  "Wants you dead!" snapped Dumarest. "And you're a fool not to see it. Remain a fool and you'll die alone. I mean it."

  "You'll leave me?"

  "I've no time for a man who refuses to help himself. You're dead, Angado. It's only a matter of time before you're in the ground. That's just what will happen when you meet Perotto unless-" He broke off and waited for the other to recognize the obvious.

  "I've got to get back home," said Angado. "But without Perotto suspecting I'm back until I'm ready to face him. You'll come with me, Earl? Help me?" Anxiety tinged his voice as Dumarest remained silent. "You won't regret it. I swear to that. I'll give you anything you want."

  The gratitude of princes-but first it had to be earned.

  * * *

  Larbi Vargas was old, wizened, his face seamed with a mesh of lines as if it had been leather unoiled and left too long in the sun. Only his eyes were young, holding a shrewd brilliance, one which matched the razor-edged keenness of his mind. An entrepreneur, an agent, a go-between. A man like a spider sitting in a web of information. One drifting in the dim region lying in the strata between law and lawlessness, order and chaos. Men like him existed on every world and Dumarest had known how to track him down. To Angado he was an alien form of life.

  Now he watched as the preliminaries were completed; the small cakes eaten with wine. The pleasantries. The handing over of scarce resources.

  "You are a man after my own heart," said Vargas. He wiped a crumb from his lips. "Too many who come to me are impatient. They neglect the niceties of civilized conduct but you, obviously, are aware of ancient traditions. Some more wine?"

  "Thank you, no."

  "You?" Vargas sighed and lowered the bottle as Angado shook his head. "Your problem is a common one, my friends. How to escape a hostile world? Money is the answer, the key to all things. How to get it? That is a harder problem. Theft is difficult and dangerous but desperate men are willing to accept risks. If you are such something could be arranged. No?"

  "No."

  "Then let us examine other prospects. Work at the mines is available but only for those willing to sign a contract. They pay is low and expenses high. I would not advise it. A party left last week for the northern hills to hunt kulighin. A beast as large as a man," he explained. "Vicious, cunning, valued for its hide and certain glands. Always some die on such a hunt and reward is never certain. But your stake is large enough to buy you a place in such a party if you can match it with experience and would be willing to take a lower share."

  "Too long," said Dumarest. "We want something fast. Passage on a ship heading to Lychen. One needing an engineer would be ideal."

  "Every vessel operating in the Burdinnion needs engineers," said Vargas dryly. "Which is why all ships carry them. If you were a captain would you trust your life and ship to an unknown? Someone lacking the years in which to have gained experience and without documents to prove his ability? Of course," he added, "such documents could be provided."

  In time and with money they couldn't spare. Things the old man knew but he worked in his own way and to press him would lessen his desire to cooperate.

  Now he said, "For one of you there is no real problem. If you just want passage away from Yuanka and are willing to do what is asked and spend what you have on bribes there are several ships on which I could arrange a passage. The Warton bound for Lome. The Koura bound for Balaban. A handler who can run a table and show a profit would be accepted." His eyes rested on Dumarest. "And there would be no need for him to pass through the gate."

  An extra bonus and an essential one for any wanted criminal.

  Angado said, quickly, "We must travel together."

  "Then your choice is limited. The Audran leaves tomorrow at dawn. They carry a cargo of mikha and need men to tend them. For the right price the captain will allow you to work your passage."

  "To where?"

  "Haroun." Vargas shrugged as Angado shook his head. "The choice is yours but I suggest you take it. Haroun is less hostile than Yuanka."

  "The mikha?"

  "A low order of life similar to leeches." Vargas added, with the hint of a smile, "They ne
ed to feed on human blood."

  * * *

  At dusk a wind began to blow from the south carrying an acrid dust which caught at the nostrils and stung the eyes. As the purple haze deepened to night the wind ceased to leave a dusty film over the town. One stirred by pedestrian boots into flurries which rose to settle in new configurations.

  "A hell of a world." Angado turned from the window of the room they had hired. "And a hell of a deal Vargas gave us. How much did you pay him, Earl? Whatever it was it was too much. Turn thief," he sneered. "Join a bunch of suicidal hunters. Feed parasites. He had to be joking."

  Dumarest made no comment, lying supine on one of the two narrow beds the room contained, looking at the cracked and stained ceiling. One typical of the rooming house with its sagging roof, creaking floors, dingy walls. At night parasites crawled out to feed.

  "Earl?"

  "He wasn't joking. We're taking his offer."

  "I'd rather steal!"

  "Then you do it alone." Dumarest sat upright and stared at the younger man. "Vargas will set it up for you if you pay. Find a location, arrange to dispose of the loot, even put you in touch with help if you need it. To him it's just a matter of business. To you it will be your life."

  "If I'm caught."

  "You'll be caught. People living on worlds like this have learned to take care of their property. And they aren't gentle with those who try to take it. Both hands amputated, blinding, hamstringing-most likely you'll be sold to the mines to work until you die. That needn't take long."

  "But to feed parasites!"

  "Most do it all their lives." Dumarest rose from the cot. "Maybe we can find the captain in a tavern; if not I'll go to the ship. But first we'll get something to eat."

  The food was poor, as cheap as they could find, as everything they had eaten since leaving Lowtown had been cheap. As had the wine, the accommodation, yet still the money dwindled away. Cost was relative; what would keep a man a week in Lowtown would barely buy a snack on the plaza, yet to return to the sprawling slum was to commit suicide. Gengiz had had a brother who had sworn revenge.