Words to stiffen their resolve, but a man had a question.

"When we reach the compound who goes in?"

"I will," said Dumarest. "Ready? Let's get on with it."

Cran led the way and Dumarest followed him close as they left the poor shelter. It was too early to move-later the rain would ease a little, but waiting would rob the others of enthusiasm. What had to be done must be done fast and they had to be gone long before dawn.

A blur of light and the compound came into sight. The rain lashed against the mesh of the high fence and the lights ringing it, spraying and misting the installation so as to give it the insubstantial quality of a dream. A dream shattered by the sudden, snarling roar of a beast as it slammed itself against the fence.

From a tower a searchlight threw a cone of brilliance, the beam tracing a path over milling shapes, settling on the fence, dying as, satisfied, the guard killed the illumination.

Without hesitation Dumarest led the way to within feet of the mesh well away from the tower. At his orders men vanished like ghosts into the rain to take up positions at either side. At intervals they would jar the mesh to create a distraction.

"Cran!"

From within his clothing the man produced wire and a set of cutters. Quickly he hooked up a jumper-circuit, and resting the cutters on the mesh, glanced at Dumarest.

"Now?"

"Wait until the next flash."

It came with a livid coruscation, closer than before, dirt pluming as electronic energy tore at the ground. As thunder rolled the mesh parted in a narrow slit through which Dumarest thrust himself. Speed now was all-important and as the searchlight stabbed to one side where a man had jarred the fence he dived toward the nearest animal.

It was as large as a horse, horned, the hooves like razors, the tail ending in a club of bone. A chelach, its eyes small, set deep in ringed projections of bone; the mouth, open, showed teeth as sharp as chisels. A beast disturbed by the storm and bristling with anger. For a second it watched and then, as Dumarest moved closer, it charged.

Its size belied its speed. An engine of bone and muscle weighing half a ton, it jerked from a standstill to the speed of a running man in a numbing explosion of energy. Fast as it was Dumarest was faster. He sprang aside, his arm lifting as it drew level, the knife he had lifted from his boot rising, stabbing, the edge slicing at the arteries of the throat as he dragged it clear.

Blood fountained to splash on the ground, his body; carmine smears washed away by the rain but leaving its sickly scent to hang on the air. As the beast halted close to the fence he struck again, the point driving deep between the ribs, the hilt jarring against the hide as the blade dug into the heart.

"Earl!" Cran stared, incredulous. "How-I've never seen a man move as fast."

"The rope. Quick!"

It came toward him like a snake, a thing of carefully woven strands of salvaged wire. Looping it over the head Dumarest ran back toward the fence and, with the aid of others, hauled the carcass toward the gap. The rain helped as he had known it would, the mud acting like an oil. He snarled with impatience as the animal jammed, and setting his feet deep in the slime, threw the strength of back and shoulders against the wire. It grew taut, hummed like a plucked string, stretched a little but held. With a sudden rush the mass passed through the opening and within seconds was clear.

"Keep pulling," snapped Dumarest. "Hurry!"

They needed no urging, panting as they struggled against the weight, freezing as the beam of the searchlight swept toward them. It touched the upper part of the torn fence, hesitated, then turned away as one of the men, recognizing the danger, jarred the mesh.

Their luck was holding-but time was running out.

Dumarest strained, edged to the right, and found the hollow he had noted earlier. A final heave and the dead animal rolled down the slope to come to rest in a pool of watery mud.

"Get the others, Cran. Be careful."

As the man slipped away Dumarest set to work, his knife plunging, ripping, blood flying as he flensed and dismembered the carcass. Those watching snatched fragments of meat, gulping them like dogs, licking the blood from their hands with a feral hunger.

"Here!" Dumarest handed out hunks of dripping meat, "Don't take more than you can easily carry. Leave as soon as you're loaded. Wait for the next flash and freeze when the next one follows."

"The liver," said a man. "Don't forget the liver."

"We'll share it on the way and eat as we go. Cran?"

Like an eel he slipped into the hollow with his companions.

"Hurry," he panted. "The guards are suspicious and they could have spotted the torn fence. If so they'll be coming to investigate."

Men with guns and portable searchlights who would not hesitate to shoot.

"Keep watch," ordered Dumarest. "Let me know if they come this way. The rest of you, get moving. Move, damn you! Move!"

Minutes later he followed, wiping his knife and thrusting it into his boot before lifting his load. Together they vanished into the darkness, shielded by the storm, invisible to the guards who finally came to investigate. They found the cut fence, but rain had washed away the blood and filled the traces with oozing mud. It wasn't until the dawn they made count and found the discarded bones, head, hooves, tail, and intestines of the slaughtered beast.

Chapter Two

Pacula had set the table, decorating it with fine glass and delicate flowers set in vases of crystal, little touches he could have done without but which impressed the Owners who came to visit. Kel Accaus was openly envious and paid unmistakable court to the woman, clumsy in his flattery.

"Pacula, my dear, your brother should be proud of you. Had I someone like yourself to act as my hostess I should not spend as much time as I do in the field. Tien, your health."

A toast which Tien Harada acknowledged with a bare inclination of the head. He had no great love for Accaus but had invited the man from necessity. Only a fool made an enemy of a man whose lands joined one's own, and yet the way he looked at Pacula would, in other times, have been grounds for a quarrel.

"You are kind, Kel," she said. "But surely you should reserve your compliments for someone younger than I?"

"What has youth to do with beauty?" he demanded. "In you I see the epitome of womanhood. If I were a poet I would compose a work in your honor. As it is, I can only state a simple truth in simple words. Your loveliness puts our sunsets to shame. You agree, Chan?"

"How can I deny it?" Chan Catiua bowed, gracious in his gesture. "Tien, a most pleasant meal."

A comment echoed by the others present and, Tien recognized, a neat way to turn the conversation. Politic too, while beautiful in her way, Pacula was no longer young and the excessive flattery could hold a tinge of mockery. Not that Accaus was capable of such subtlety, but a man couldn't be too careful and shame, once given, could never be erased.

Now, as the servants cleared the table and set out flagons of wine and bowls of succulent fruits, Tien Harada looked at his guests. Owners all, aside from one, and he was of no account. Pacula's whim and one he had tolerated-if the man could bring her ease, what right had he to complain? Yet sitting as he did, barely touching the food, a bleak contrast in his brown, homespun robe, the monk looked more like a skeleton at the feast than a privileged guest. Some wine would warm him, perhaps, and Tien gestured for a servant to fill his glass.

"Thank you, no." Brother Vray rested his hand on the container.

"You refuse my hospitality, Brother?"

"That, never, but a sufficiency is enough. And I have work awaiting me."