The Complete Dumarest, page 276
Ursula said blankly, “Why should they hate us? They should be happy.”
“As you are?” Dumarest waited for an answer and when none came added, “I’m not defending the Ohrm. I don’t give a damn for their condition or imagined grievances or supposed cause. But I am a guest and, as you’ve mentioned before—” He glanced at Ursula. “—A guest has certain obligations. In my experience it is to defend the people and the property of those who have given him hospitality. I have given you warning and that ends my obligation. If you refuse to heed it then that is your business. Now, with your permission, it is late and I am tired.”
“Earl! Don’t leave!” Ursula turned to the others. “At least let us probe the possibility. Lathrynne? Khurt?”
The young man nodded. “Of course.”
“Yes,” said Lathrynne. “Is there general agreement? Etallia? Casavet? Rattalie?” Nods answered as she called names. “So what do we have so far? Explosives which may have been taken from the Sivas and hidden. Men injured by a known event who refuse to ask for treatment. A gun which must have been smuggled or stolen by a servant some time in the past. An attack on a guest which he fortunately survived. And?”
“A feeling,” said Dumarest. “A conviction.”
“That a revolution is imminent? How imminent? Tomorrow? Next week? In a month? A year?”
“If I could tell you the exact time and the manner of the insurrection,” said Dumarest dryly, “I wouldn’t be a guest but a prophet.”
“Or the leader of the insurrection itself.” Lathrynne nodded. “A good point. It was unfair to try and pin you down. Is there anything else?”
“Names. Wilkie, Flavian, Masak. They were three of the men who attacked me.”
“And who are now dead. A pity. Did they need to die?”
“They wanted to kill me.” It was answer enough. Dumarest added, “But they would have had associates and they could be found.”
“And persuaded to talk. Of course, but there is doubt as to their identity. Many of the scanners in the homes of the Ohrm are no longer operating or have become erratic.”
Scanners? Dumarest had seen none or, if he had, had failed to recognize them for what they were. As easy mistake; such instruments could be small and masked in a variety of ways. But scanners presupposed a central operations room where data could be evaluated and correlated. Another item to add to the rest but as yet the knowledge was of little use.
He said, “Are any scanners installed in the homes of the Choud?”
“No.” Lathrynne looked puzzled. “What would be the point?”
A question Tuvey answered. “None. Earl, you probe too deeply. It would be wise to remember that you are a guest on this world.”
“As you are, Captain,” reminded Dumarest. “But I present no danger to my hosts.”
“Are you saying I do?” Tuvey stepped forward, fists clenched, face ugly. “You accuse me? Do that and I’ll leave you here to rot.”
“As you did Balain.” Dumarest saw the captain frown, glanced at Renzi and saw his blank expression. “You know him?”
“No. Damn you, Earl, you—”
“I wasn’t accusing you, just stating a fact. The Sivas is a prime factor in the revolution. It has been used to bring the insurgents arms and explosives. It could even have supplied their leader.”
“Balain? No.”
“How can you be certain, Captain? Men have been smuggled before.”
“Not on my ship.” Tuvey looked down at his hands, unclenched them, then halted the automatic movement of one toward his empty shoulder. He frowned, missing his pet, an irritation exploded into anger. “Damn you for a fool! Why can’t you leave well enough alone? This is a nice, pleasant world and I want to keep it that way. That’s why I keep it secret and why I’m reluctant to carry passengers. Now you’ve spoiled it with your talk of revolution and arms and explosives. There was an accident, that’s all, and—”
“Men tried to kill me.”
“So you say. But what reason could they have had? A woman?” Tuvey glanced at Sardia then at Ursula. “Another woman? Didn’t you have the sense to leave the Ohrm alone?”
“Did Balain?”
“To hell with Balain! He’s just a name you picked up from somewhere. I’ve never seen him and wouldn’t know him if I did. If he exists at all he’s some crazy fool chasing dreams.”
“No,” said Dumarest. “He’s not crazy and he’s not chasing a dream. What he wants he can get. And what he wants is to end the rule of the Choud.”
Casavet laughed. He laughed as he had at the first mention of the rebellion, jowls quivering, tears streaming from his eyes. A man convulsed with genuine amusement.
“Earl, my friend, you will kill me with your jokes. Balain destroy the Choud? One man?” He broke into fresh peals and ended gasping and dabbing at his eyes. “The thing is inconceivable. You don’t know—how could you? You don’t understand. If you did you would realize how incredible the concept is. One man, even the entire Ohrm, couldn’t harm us. The Choud cannot be overthrown.”
“You are wrong,” said Dumarest. “And you are making the biggest mistake which could ever be made by a ruling class. You consider yourselves to be invulnerable and that your rule will last forever. If history has anything to teach us at all it is the fact that such conviction is the prelude to inevitable defeat.”
“Nonsense!”
Dumarest shrugged. “It’s your world.”
“And a strong one.”
“Strong?” Goblets stood on a nearby table; fine-stemmed containers of engraved crystal with fluted rims and delicate curves. Dumarest selected one and held it between his outstretched fingers. “Strong,” he said. “I could stand on it and it would carry my weight if I chose how to position it. It’s beautiful, too. As strong and as beautiful as your world.” He opened his fingers and, as the goblet fell to shatter on the floor, added, “And as brittle.”
Chapter Twelve
Tuvey was gruff. He said, “Here you are, my lady, safe to your door. No revolutionaries can get you now.”
Sardia forced herself to smile at the weak joke. Cornelius, despite his promise, had failed to join her and the captain had escorted her home. Now he stood, a little awkward, arm lifted as his fingers searched for his missing pet. He noticed her eyes and lowered his hand.
“I miss him,” he said simply. “Borol wasn’t much to look at but he was company of a kind. The sort which doesn’t make demands. You know?”
“Yes, Captain, I know.”
“A man needs a companion in space. Something or someone who can be close. Some men travel together most of their lives but I’ve never met anyone with whom I could be that friendly. It makes a difference.”
To a man and to a ship—the Sivas had been cold with a chill owing nothing to the lack of heat. Sardia said, “I mustn’t detain you. Your hostess will be looking for me with daggers if she thinks I’m keeping you from her side.”
“Etallia?” His shrug was eloquent. “We’re used to each other and that’s about all. She knows better than to be jealous.”
“No woman knows that, Captain.”
“And not all women can tolerate a man as ugly as I am.” He was stating a fact, not fishing for a compliment. “I know it and she knows I know it. Knows, too, that I can’t afford to be independent while on Ath. That’s something Renzi has yet to learn. The stupid bastard!”
“His mouth?”
“His damned carelessness. Borol didn’t like him—he used to tease the beast when I wasn’t around. I would have kept him with me but Etallia wouldn’t hear of it. So I left him in the control room. I guessed he liked to be put on guard and he was snug enough in his box but Renzi had to go after him. He must have tormented the poor creature and it tried to run.” He added savagely, “He’ll pay for a new radio and compensate me for the loss of my pet before I get rid of him. I swear to that!”
“The radio was Renzi’s doing?”
“Yes. He confessed earlier this evening while we watched the gambling. The fool was high and thought it a joke. I’ll give him a joke. If he ever lands on this world again it won’t be on my ship.” Tuvey swallowed and lifted his hand in a brisk salute; one learned half a galaxy away when young. “I’ve kept you standing out here long enough. Good night, madam.”
“Good night, Captain.”
Politeness which held a cold formality, the formality itself a sense of security. Rules by which people chose to live; a custom which could be appreciated and a discipline which provided support as well as barriers. Did the Choud have something similar? Were there areas of privacy into which none could intrude without condemnation?
Why had Cornelius broken his word?
The answer was in the studio and she paused at the door seeing the figure slumped in the chair before the easel and feeling a sharp anxiety before she noticed the rise and fall of his chest, heard the susurration of ragged breathing.
“Cornelius!” He was asleep, sunk in a numbing exhaustion, not even the slap of her palm against his cheek enough to arouse him. “Cornelius, wake up!” Again she slapped the flaccid cheek. “Wake up!”
“Who—” He stirred, one hand lifting, the fingers thickly smeared with paint. “What—”
“Wake up!” Spirit stood close at hand. She gushed it on a rag and held the rising vapors beneath his nostrils. “Cornelius! Please!”
He stirred again, the hand blindly groping, eyelids twitching. She thrust the rag beneath his nose, the sting of the spirit against delicate membranes an added stimulus, then, as he reared a little, kissed him full on the lips.
“Sardia!” He rose higher to sit upright, his arms closing around her. “Sardia, my darling!”
The kiss had been a wind kindling latent desire to a dancing flame. She felt it as she retreated, sensed her own response, and rose to step backward well away from his reach.
“You promised to join me. What happened?”
“I was working and must have lost track of time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “God, I feel exhausted. The box. Pass me that box.”
She handed it to him and watched as he opened it to reveal swollen yellow pods. He lifted one and slipped it into his mouth, biting, leaning back as he chewed. The transformation was amazing, within seconds the muscles of his face had firmed, the flaccidity born of fatigue washed away together with his fatigue.
“Tekoa,” he said. “At times it helps. Helps you to relax, that is. Helps you to drift and think and plan and see everything in bright colors.” Fatigue had given way to euphoria and he sensed it. With an effort he added, “I don’t use it often.”
“Would it matter if you did?”
“Perhaps not but—” He broke off, giggling, becoming abruptly sober again. “I’m sorry. It hits you like this sometimes. The contrast—don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it soon.”
She said nothing, staring at the easel, the canvas it supported, the picture he had painted since she had seen him last.
Herself?
She stepped closer, looking at the figure, a female, seated on plain boards, one knee lifted, the face resting on the summit of the curve. A woman dressed in a soiled costume with tinsel wings drooping like the tattered vanes of a butterfly, the body-garment accentuating the tired drag of breasts and stomach. A dancer as she could tell from the shoes. And it was so real.
Leaning closer she could smell the greasepaint, the odor of dried sweat, the female exudations caught and held by the fabric of the costume. Feel, too, the rough boards beneath her buttocks, the aching fatigue, the depression. The performance was over, the audience gone, the lights dimmed and now she sat alone. A woman who had danced the part of an angel. One now fallen. One soiled and dirtied and conscious of her state.
Herself?
She had sat before the window, tall, gracious, the light warm on the smooth contours of her body. Her head had been high, the chin uplifted in proud grace, the lips carefully arranged in a smile—and Cornelius had been unable to freeze the picture with his genius. Instead, after she had gone, he had created his own interpretation. A dancer, soiled, degraded, disconsolate—was that how he saw her?
She looked even more carefully and more details sprang to life. The barely seen lines on the face which gave it an air of corruption. The eyes which told of cynicism. The lips which told of standards lost never to be regained. Even the curve of the fingers had been made to resemble claws avid in their greed. A woman who had sold herself for ambition. Who had accepted compromise and the use to which her body could be put. The face of a cheat, a liar, a thief, a whore.
Her face.
Sardia turned and ran from the studio, crying, feeling naked and ashamed.
* * *
The guard was young, confident of his ability and impatient to be getting on with the job. The leader of a score of others, all young men of the Choud taking their turn of duty and excited at the prospect of interesting action.
Dumarest said, “Be sure and check the walls, floors and roof. Don’t forget the outside of the roof as well as the inner rafters. Check every item of furniture. If you find anyone who insists on staying in bed then move him and search the bedding. Even if they are sick move them just the same. You understand?”
“We know what to do.”
“I hope so. Look into cupboards, cabinets, cradles. Check toys and boxes and privies. Don’t forget the people; watch their eyes as you search. A glance could give you a lead.”
Again the man said, “Leave it to us. We know what to do.”
A confidence Dumarest didn’t share. Though young and confident they would lack experience but he had done all he could. As they moved off into the darkness Ursula said, “If you’re wrong, Earl, I’ll be the laughing stock of Ath.”
“And if I’m not?”
He saw the answer in her eyes, the sudden warmth which accompanied the touch of her hand. She would be grateful; no member of the Choud wanted to be host to a fool, and in her gratitude she would tell him what he needed to know.
“Earl, let’s go inside. It’s getting chill.” She shivered beneath the cloak she had flung over her shoulders.
“Pre-dawn adventures are all right for men wearing heavy garments but I’m not fond of hardship. Let us go into the house and you can share my bath and we can talk of your past exploits.”
“I’d rather be with the guards.”
“I know. You men are like boys. You want action and incident and the fun of giving orders. And you want to be proved right, Earl. But there is nothing you can do more than what is being done. All exits from the area have been sealed, the region cut into sections and already the first divisions are being checked. If explosives are there the guards will find them.”
Dumarest frowned, the decision to search had been recent, how had men been moved into position so quickly? He hadn’t even heard them alerted.
Then, remembering the crossbow, he said, “I hope they aren’t stupid enough to underestimate the Ohrm. They have weapons which can kill.”
Weapons they were willing to use. Dumarest heard the scream as they moved across the lawn toward the house and felt Ursula stiffen at his side. It came again, a long, wailing shriek which ended in an ugly gurgle. The sound torn from a man with punctured lungs who had tried to run and had fallen to scream his pain before blood had filled his throat.
“They were waiting,” he said. “And ready.”
“For what?”
“The guards, the search, they expected it.” He looked up toward the ridge, seeing moving points of light against the sky. “They could be coming down here to attack the city.”
“No, those lights belong to the guards. They will protect us.” She clung to his arm. “No, Earl! Stay here with me!”
“And listen as they die?” Another scream had seared the night. “Don’t those fools know enough to stay under cover?”
She followed him as he ran up the winding path leading to the summit, falling back, joining him as he slowed and halted at the crest. Guards stood in line, armed, portable lights standing dark but ready and aimed toward the homes of the Ohrm lying sprawled below.
“Get those lights working,” snapped Dumarest. “Keep them high in order to illuminate the roofs. Aim them lower and you’ll make easy targets of your companions. What happened?”
A man glanced at Ursula who nodded.
“The search had started and seemed quiet enough, then some women started acting up. As we pressed into another section one of our men was hit.”
“With what?”
“An arrow. He fell and we didn’t know what had happened at first then another got it. You may have heard his scream.”
“And?”
“Two more followed, one is dead and the other close to it. We got them out and scattered.” He squinted as the portables flashed into life. “We were going to wait until dawn.”
“That’s what they wanted you to do.” Dumarest looked at the vista revealed by the lights. Some of the roofs had crude parapets built of stone and bags of dirt. “Were any other weapons used aside from the crossbows?”
“No.”
“Which doesn’t mean they haven’t got any. Right, have the men split into pairs and operate as teams. One to cover the other—you understand?”
“Yes, but wouldn’t teams of three be more efficient? Two to cover and one to move?”
“And if one gets hit?” Dumarest didn’t wait for an answer. “Use pairs. They can double up if necessary but each knows that he has to rely on the other and will be that much more attentive. Keep those lights on the roofs to dazzle snipers if they are present. Have men watch the strong points on the houses but don’t fire unless they are occupied. Can you contact those searching?”
“Of course.”
“Tell them to keep at it but to stay in groups and to be doubly alert. And have them look for a man named Balain.”
“Balain? But—”
“That’s a common name, Earl,” interrupted Ursula. “It could belong to any of a hundred men even if it is genuine.”
“He could be down there. Can’t your scanners pick him out? Once we have him located we can go in after him.” He saw the shake of her head. “No?”
