Symbol of Terra dot-30 Page 6

  "Not now?"

  He glanced at the cards, the players, the money on the table. As yet he still had to win. "Later," he said again. "I promise."

  Massak shook his head as she left the room. "A beautiful woman," he said. "What do you see in her, Earl?" He hurried on as Dumarest frowned. "I mean what does she look like to you?"

  "What you said-a beautiful woman."

  "Yet she reminds Toetzer of everything he hates. To Vosper?" Massak looked toward him. "What do you see in her, Ron?"

  "I had a sister once. She looks the same."

  "Someone you loved and would never hurt, right?" Massak turned to Lopakhin. "And you? What do you see with your artist's eye?"

  "Beauty." Lopakhin was curt. To Dumarest he said, "They're having a game with you. Toetzer doesn't like her, that's true, or he says he doesn't like her, which isn't the same thing. Personally I think he fell in love with the woman who bought him and taught him how to live. Certainly he can't forget her. If she stood naked and defenseless before him all he'd do would be to try and kill her with kisses."

  Toetzer said, "That's a lie!"

  "When you look at Govinda you see her. Right?"

  "Yes, but-"

  "That proves it." Lopakhin shrugged and again looked at Dumarest. "She's a mentamorph," he explained. "It's a survival trait, I guess. She appears to those who might possibly threaten her as something they would never hurt. With Vosper it's his sister. With me it's a model I knew once and for whom I'd have walked over burning coals. Who Massak likes is anyone's guess but Shior had to stop him once when he tried to get his hands on the woman. And you, Earl? What does she look like to you?"

  A woman, soft, appealing, one haunted by a hidden yearning.

  One who, twice now, had wrung the strings of his heart.

  The first he mentioned, the second he did not. Shior nodded, understanding, his voice serious as he said, "You've hit it, my friend. Govinda is more than what she seems. Inside of her she carries a deep hurt. Of all the gifts that anyone could offer her, motherhood is the one she would take."

  "She's barren," said Vosper. "Sterile. God knows how much she spent and how hard she's tried but-" He shrugged. "The thing she wants most is the thing she can't have."

  "Adoption?"

  "The easy answer, Earl, and the most obvious solution, but it's not for her. She needs to have an affinity with the child. She isn't an ordinary woman and can't accept an ordinary baby. Toyanna could tell you why; it has something to do with the rejection syndrome, a mental repulsion due to her attribute." Vosper shook his head and sighed. "A pity. I hate to see anyone living in hell especially someone like Govinda. She's a nice person."

  "Maybe too nice." Massak frowned at Toetzer. "Are you making love to those cards or stacking the deck? Come on, let's play."

  * * *

  Vaclav came out of the dusk like a nocturnal bird of prey, scowling, infuriated at the brusqueness of the command which had brought him to Kooga's office. To the doctor when they were together he snapped, "You summoned and I've responded. But if you have any more complaints as to unauthorized parking I shall not be amused."

  "Sit." Kooga waved to a chair. Like the office it was of good quality and excellent taste. "Let us understand each other. As Chief Guardian of Lychen you have a duty to-"

  "Protect the persons, property and privileges of the ruling Houses," interrupted Vaclav. "Basically that is the sum total of my responsibility. To take care of the Insham, the Vattari, the Cerney, the Karroum. Especially the Karroum."

  "You don't like them?"

  "They own most of the planet. They crack the biggest whip. When they say 'jump' we ordinary people ask 'how high?' I think you know that, Doctor."

  "And if I do?"

  "You have the answer to your question." Vaclav added, impatiently, "There are things needing my attention. Why did you send for me?"

  "A problem." Kooga opened a drawer and produced a recording. He laid it before him on the desk. "After our last meeting Mirza Karroum had me do something for her. She was convinced the cyber could help her locate Dumarest. At her insistence I connected a microphone to an electrode connected to the cyber's cranium so as to feed in the output of a tape. I also connected another from his larynx to a recorder. It was her hope that, by verbal stimulus, he would gain remission and be able to respond."

  Vaclav said, "Would it work?"

  "Theoretically, yes."

  "Did it?"

  For answer Kooga touched the recording with the tip of a finger and said, "We are dealing with the Cyclan. On Lychen the Karroum are powerful but we both know that if the Cyclan wished they would be ruined and destroyed. Also, and this you can understand, I do not take kindly to threats."

  Vaclav studied the doctor's face, seeing beneath the surface to the injured pride, the resentment which he knew so well. Familiar emotions which he had seen and used often before, but Kooga was not the subject for interrogation even if a charge could be made. Even so he could be led.

  "So you made a decision," said Vaclav. "What?"

  "This is in the strictest confidence, Chief."

  "Of course."

  "I had to make a decision and arranged a compromise. I made sure that the skull-connection was inoperative. The connecting wire wasn't quite making contact."

  "So you got nothing." Vaclav mimicked a report. "Too bad, my lady, I did my best but the cyber failed to respond." He shrugged. "Where's the problem?"

  "A nurse went into his room to make a routine check. During it she noticed unusual activity of the encephalograph. She also made physical contact with the patient. This was within the scope of her duties but-" Kooga paused then finished with a rush. "She must have moved the wire or touched the skull-connector and made it operable. She probably thought it a part of the monitoring device and did a routine check. This is the result." Again he touched the recording. "The final part contains the cyber's prediction of where Dumarest is to be found."

  "Where?"

  "Chenault's. The Valley of Light."

  "Are you sure?"

  "No. How can I be? The prediction comes from the cyber, not myself, but how often are they wrong?" Kooga frowned. "You seem troubled."

  Vaclav said, "At Mirza Karroum's insistence I ordered a wide-scan, high-fly survey. Costly, but what the Karroum want they get. Something which could have been the raft Dumarest used was spotted to the east of the mountain where Chenault has his home. But it was over a hundred miles distant. Why would he have wanted to walk so far?"

  "To hide."

  "From us?"

  "From the Cyclan. Listen."

  The voice from the recorder was weak, thin, drifting from fast to slow as if time, for the speaker, held a dimension different and more variable than for others. Words which blurred, changed, struck with sudden, crystalline clarity.

  "It ends there," said Kooga. "The part where he mentions Chenault. That's the part Mirza took notice of."

  "She heard it?"

  "I couldn't stop her. I thought the recording would be blank so there was no need to antagonize her. Later, after I'd played it again, I sent for you."

  "Why?"

  "I told you the encephalograph showed unusual activity," said Kooga. "The wild variations from the normal seemed to be aligned to these spoken words. That was to be expected but there were other, wilder variations, all unfamiliar, but it's my guess there's a connecting link. The stimulus must have jarred his awareness and concentrated it on a special area. Now listen again. Really listen."

  Again the words, the thread of varying sound, but this time Vaclav concentrated harder, using his skill and training to filter noise from the relevant data, to fill in the missing pieces.

  As the recording ended Kooga said, "He was explaining what happened in the room. How Dumarest killed a man who had killed. That must have been Perotto. Then comes the interesting part; the reason the Cyclan are so interested in Dumarest. It seems he holds a secret they want. A pity it isn't made clear but there is no doubt as to
his importance to them." Pausing he added, meaningfully, "His importance and his value."

  "Alive."

  "What?"

  "Dead he would be valueless," explained Vaclav. "Mirza was right; he didn't kill Perotto in self-defense. If they fought it was because Perotto wanted to save his life. We know that he failed. Which makes Dumarest guilty of murder."

  "A technicality." Kooga dismissed it with a gesture. "Avro was the only witness and he would never put the man he came to find in danger. Soon the representatives of the Cyclan will arrive on Lychen. If we can hand Dumarest over to them, alive and well, we can ask our own price. Do I make myself clear, Chief?"

  "You want me to find him, hold him, keep him from harm while you negotiate with the Cyclan."

  "Yes." Kooga nodded, satisfied. "I assume you have no objections to making a fortune? To being rich and freed of your present restraints?"

  "None."

  "Then we are partners?"

  Vaclav said, dryly, "In what? If Mirza Karroum knows where Dumarest is she's on her way to kill him by now."

  Chapter Six

  She came with the night, the stars, her rafts making dark, moving splotches against the nacreous glow of the sky. Riding high and proud as they arrowed toward the Valley of Light.

  "Three of them." Massak lowered his binoculars. "She'll drop one to each side to provide crossfire and come in with the other." He sucked thoughtfully at his lower lip. "If we take her out the others will open up in revenge. If we hit them she'll blast the house. Clever. The lady must have had experience."

  "That's good," said Shior from where he stood at the mercenary's side. "At least she'll know when she's been beaten."

  "If she's beaten." Massak used his binoculars again. "There's always doubt in these matters. Right, Earl?"

  Dumarest made no comment, standing, watching the sky. The rafts were closer now, making no attempt to adopt evasive action, probably unaware they had been spotted. A reasonable assumption; Hilary's talents were unknown outside the house. Her warning had come in good time now that she, and others, were safely lodged in the cellars far below the surface.

  Dumarest said, "How many and how are they armed?"

  "Four in each of the side-rafts together with a driver. Five in all. Ten when put together. They seem to have machine rifles."

  "Lights?"

  "That too."

  Men to spread along the facing crests, lights to illuminate the clearing, weapons to cover it with a murderous crossfire. Dumarest said, "We need to get behind them so as to attack from the rear. They'll be facing inward against the glow. Easy targets, but we'll have to be in position before they land."

  "Good thinking, Earl." Massak smiled, teeth white against the ebon of his skin. "This isn't the first time you've seen action."

  "No."

  "I thought not. You have a way of sizing up the situation. How about the other raft? Any ideas?"

  "Once the flankers are knocked out they'll be in the center of fire. We can hit them from both sides." Dumarest added, pointedly, "If we get into position in time."

  "Us, Earl. Shior and me. This one you stay out of. Chenault's order." Massak glanced at the other man. "Let's go!"

  As they vanished into the shadows Lopakhin called from the open postern.

  "Earl! Here, man! Get inside-fast!"

  Good advice and Dumarest followed it; if firing should start he would be a clear target. As the heavy door thudded shut behind him the artist gestured to a screen beside it.

  "It's hooked to a scanner higher up," he explained. "A good view and a safe one. You never know what these crazy bastards will do next. Look at her!" He gestured at the screen, the raft it depicted, the woman standing within it. "What the hell does she imagine she is?"

  A warrior-queen riding to war as others of her House had done in ages past. Snatching the power left by slain men to lead their forces to victory and establish the Karroum as the thing it was today. A Family secure in its pride, jealous of its honor.

  As the raft lowered, her amplified voice echoed from the sides of the valley.

  "Chenault! This is Mirza Annette Karroum! I demand audience!"

  Silence then, as the raft landed, her voice again.

  "Chenault! I come to parley. Unless you appear I'll blow open your house!"

  A threat backed with the potential of action. As lights blazed from the flanking rafts to illuminate the clearing Dumarest could see the snouted weapon in the woman's vehicle. A heavy-duty laser or a missile-launcher. The latter, he guessed, a laser would have been less efficient given the vehicle and its load.

  "Chenault, damn you! I'll wait no longer!"

  "Wait!" His voice boomed from a speaker. "Give me time. Is this a way to come calling? What ails you that you make such threats? Has the Karroum gone mad?"

  "This is a matter of honor. I shall not be denied."

  "Honor? What is this talk of honor? How have I offended you? Why come with arms to my house? What do you want of me?"

  "Open your doors. Come out and face me."

  "Yes. Yes, but give me a moment. All can be settled with a little patience. Mirza Annette Karroum, you say?"

  Talk to gain time as Dumarest knew and, on the crests, men would already have died if Massak and Shior knew their jobs. Gasping out their lives to the thrust of a blade or rearing, necks broken by the twist of a thong. Silent death dealt to the unsuspecting. A natural attribute of war.

  Watching, Dumarest saw the woman look at her driver, speak to him, turn frowning to stare at the crests on either side. A loss of communication or some noise lacking explanation: something which troubled her.

  He said, "If Chenault means to show he'd better do it fast. She's suspicious."

  "He'll make it."

  "Open the postern. Pretend he has. Hurry!"

  He appeared as Lopakhin swung wide the panel, standing in the opening, gesturing as if to someone beyond. Mimicry made truth as Chenault stepped toward him. Past him. Through the door and out into the clearing to stand, tall and grim in the artificial glow.

  A man who scant hours ago had collapsed now apparently in the best of health. His voice matched his stance, harsh, arrogant.

  "This is my home. You intrude. Go before I feel insulted."

  "Feel as you please. I stay until honor has been satisfied. Where is Dumarest?"

  "Who?"

  "Dumarest. Earl Dumarest. He is here and I want him. I want him dead. The honor of the Karroum demands it." She leaned forward over the snouted weapon in the raft, her face made ugly by light and shadow, flesh and blood turned into a chiaroscuro of ice and iron forming the lineaments of a bestial mask. "Him or you, Chenault. Make your choice. Your life, your home, all you possess- or you give me Dumarest. And you give him to me now!"

  * * *

  There was power in her and determination and an iron will which would brook no interference, no opposition. She would gain her way or do as she had threatened and, even as Chenault made no move, Dumarest knew that time was running out.

  "Earl!" Lopakhin tried to catch his arm as Dumarest reached for the door. "Don't, man. Don't! Let Chenault handle it!"

  A man who stood as if turned to stone, his head uptilted a little, his arms held from his body, shoulders stooped and strangely at variance with the massive torso.

  As Dumarest came level with him Chenault turned and said, tightly, "Go back. Don't interfere. Just leave things to me."

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  Because if the man was killed the hope of finding Earth would go with him. The knowledge stored in his brain, the facts he must have garnered, the coordinates Dumarest felt he must have. And if he defied the woman he would die. The weapon mounted on the raft would fire and spread a hail of destruction. Shrapnel and flame which would turn the clearing and all it contained into smoldering ash.

  The woman would do it. Even if she died giving the order yet she would still give it.

  Dumarest walked toward her to halt in the pool of i
llumination thrown by the light on her raft.

  He said, "You want me. Why?"

  "You are Dumarest?"

  "Yes."

  "I came to kill you. I want you to know that."

  "I know it." He met her eyes. "Now tell me why."

  "Why I want you dead?" She stepped from the raft and came close to him, her eyes raking his face, his body. "You killed one of the Karroum. That is answer enough."

  "For you, obviously. But not for me. I assume you are talking of Perotto. I killed him, yes. If I hadn't he would have killed me. As he had already killed Angado. Or didn't you know that? Angado was of the Karroum, too. In fact he was the titular head of the House. Would you have hunted down Perotto if he were still alive? Or does the honor of the Karroum stop when it comes to dealing with murdering filth bearing the same name?"

  "You go too far!" She fought for breath, trying to master her rage, mouth open as she filled her lungs. "Perotto was-"

  "A killer. One without the guts to face his victim face to face. An assassin in the dark. One who paid others to do his dirty work." Dumarest fired the words like bullets. "Scum, as you'd admit if you weren't so blind in your prejudice. I killed him to save my life."

  "No!" She was vehement in her denial. "He would never have killed you!"

  The truth, but how did she know it? Only at the last when, knowing he would die, had Perotto tried to eliminate his destroyer. Working for the Cyclan he knew the value they placed on their quarry. Knew too how ruthless would be his punishment if he had failed to obey their orders. Avro? Had the cyber managed to survive? Had he told the woman what had happened?

  A possibility and Dumarest considered it. One which could lead to an even greater danger than the one he was in. Armed, with Chenault as a hostage, who could stop the woman from taking him prisoner?

  "My lady, let us understand each other." He faced her, smiling, at his ease. A man talking to an equal on a subject they could both appreciate. "I killed Perotto and I admit it. But it was a matter of honor as I'm sure you will agree. In fact I had no choice." He made a small gesture with his hands. "As you feel that you have no choice. Honor is a hard master to those who follow its dictates."