"Set another just above the first. Not there, Jarv, you fool, there!"

"A heavy charge, Captain."

"We could need it. The detonators?"

"Here." Small in the distance Timus held them out, watched as Acilus thrust them home.

"The fuse," he rapped. "Quickly."

There was no obvious need for speed, but Dumarest guessed the loom of the blank wall must have unnerved him, the impression of watching eyes. He saw flame spring from the captain's hand, more flame sparkle from the length of black fuse.

"That's it. Now run!"

Dumarest joined them as they reached the trail, following as they ran to the mound, dropping behind its shelter. Marek dropped beside him. The engineer, panting for breath, said, "Fifty seconds. I've been counting. In less than a minute it will blow."

"Why didn't you use an electronic detonator?"

"We tried, Earl, it didn't work. Don't ask me why. I wanted to rig a launcher but the captain was impatient." Timus glanced to where Acilus crouched like an animal on the ground. "When he gets that way you can't argue with him. Thirty seconds."

A time unnecessarily short but one which dragged. Jarv Nonach wheezed, sniffed at his pomander, stared up at the sky.

"Five seconds." He frowned as they passed. "Minus three if I've counted right."

A navigator was accustomed to check the passage of time as a runner was of distance. His frown increased as still the charges didn't blow.

"Thirty seconds, Captain. You sure you set the detonators correctly?"

"Shut your mouth!" Acilus's tone revealed his doubt. "We'll give it a while longer."

Another three minutes during which his patience became exhausted.

"Give me another fuse and some more detonators," he snapped. "I'll fix this."

"No!" Dumarest rose to catch his arm. "Don't be a fool, man! Give it more time. What are you using, impact charges?"

"Safety plastic," said the engineer. "You could shoot a gun at it and it still wouldn't explode."

"Not if you hit a detonator?" Dumarest snatched the weapon from where it hung on the man's shoulder. "At least it's worth a try."

The gun was cheap, a rapid-fire light machine gun meant to be cradled in the arms, used to lay a rain of bullets without regard to accuracy. A short-range weapon good for street fighting but very little else. Dumarest lay on the summit of the mound, checked the sights, and fired a burst at the charges. He might as well have fired into empty air.

"You're wasting time," said Acilus. "'You could shoot all day and never hit a thing. The fuse must have burned out. We'll have to fix another."

Dumarest fired again with no better result. As the magazine emptied he said, "Give me another."

"No!" The captain knocked aside the gun Jarv held upward. "We'll do it my way."

"Why bother?" Marek was bland. "There's a lot of wall," he reminded. "Why not move along it and try somewhere else?"

"No need. The charges are set If the fuse hadn't burned out-"

"You can't be sure it did."

"To hell with you. I'm sure. Timus, Jarv, let's get at it!" Acilus sucked in his breath as neither moved. "Get on your feet, damn you! That's an order!"

Timus said, "We're not in space now, Captain. You want to risk your neck, that's your business."

"Jarv?" His eyes were murderous as the navigator shook his head. "So that's it. Cowards, the pair of you. I'll remember that."

Dumarest said, "Be sensible. Do as Marek suggests."

The final straw which broke the captain's hesitancy. "You!" he said. "By God, you overrode me once, you won't do it again. In space or on land I give the orders. Refuse to obey and it's mutiny. Remember that when we're back in space!"

A crime for which eviction was the penalty, a revenge Acilus would take later if he could. Dumarest watched as the man ran down the trail toward the edge of the clearing. Dust rose beneath his feet as he headed for the wall and the massed charges set and waiting. He reached them, busied himself with the fuse, and then, without warning, they blew.

A gush of flame blasted from the wall, dimming the suns, shaking the air with the roaring thunder of released destruction. Dumarest dropped, blinking to clear his eyes from retinal images, but there was no shower of debris.

When he looked again he could see nothing but a drifting plume of dust, a hole gouged in the ground, a wreath of smoke.

Acilus had vanished, blasted to atoms, and the wall reared as before, untouched, pristine.

Chapter Twelve

Timus Omilcar poured himself wine and said bitterly. "Over a hundred pounds of explosive and nothing to show for it but a hole in the ground and a missing captain. Want a drink, Earl?"

"That damned wall." The engineer lifted his glass, swallowed, sat scowling at the bottle. "We can't drive a pick into it, we can't touch it with lasers, and we can't blow a hole through it. The city's there-but how the hell do we get inside?"

A problem Dumarest was working on. From metal rods he had fashioned a grapnel, the tines curved, sharpened, a hook-eye supplied for a rope. He fitted it as Timus reached for the bottle.

"A hundred feet, Earl," he reminded. "A hell of a throw."

And no surety the tines would catch, but it had to be tried. At the foot of the wall Dumarest studied it, eyes narrowed against the glare of the red and yellow suns. With legs braced be swung the grapnel, threw it, the barbs hitting well below the summit of the smooth expanse. Another try threw it higher, a third and it was close to the top. On the second following try the hooked metal fell over the edge, to fall as Dumarest gently tugged at the rope.

A dozen attempts later he gave up. The summit of the wall was too smooth to offer a hold and he was sweating with the effort of casting the grapnel. Dropping the rope he rested the side of his face against the wall and studied the unbroken expanse. Light shimmered from it as if it had been polished. Even at the place blasted by the explosives it resembled the sheen of a mirror. Against his cheek it felt neither hot nor cold, the temperature equal to his own.

Entering the ship he heard voices raised in argument.

"Do you think I gimmick the fuse?" The engineer's voice was a roar. "Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm trying to understand." Usan Labria was sharp. "You gave him the detonators and fuses, right?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't go back with him when they failed to work. So-"

"So you think I refused because I knew the charges would blow? Woman, you're crazy! You know anything about explosives?"

"A little."

"Then listen. The stuff was safety plastic and you could hit it with a hammer and it would remain inert. Earl shot at it with no effect. The detonators were chemical-cascade; three units-the first blowing the second, the second the third, the third doing the job. "Got that?"

"The fuse?"

"Again chemical. Regular burn and normally you could set a watch by it, but things can happen. A fuse can volley- burn faster than expected, the flame jumping at accelerated speed. Or it can die, but when it does there's always the chance that it's still alive. The flame just moves slower, that's all. Acilus knew that but he was too damned impatient." Timus ended bleakly, "It cost him his life."

They were all in the salon aside from Embira, Usan Labria breathing deeply, the locket containing her drugs clutched in one hand. Pacula rose as Dumarest entered.

"I'd better go and look after the girl."

"Leave her." Marek toyed with his cards. "She isn't a baby."

"She's blind. Have you forgotten?"

"We're all blind when asleep, my dear." He turned three cards, pursed his lips, then gathered up the deck. "You worry about her too much."

"And you too little."

"Not so." Marek smiled, his teeth, sharp and regular, flashing in the light. "I think of her often and, when she is close, it is easy to forget her disability. Her charms negate her lack of vision and it would be no handicap. After all, are not fingers the eyes of the night?"