"Zenya will accompany you."

"That is not necessary."

"That is for me to decide." Chan Parect set down the knife, point toward his guest, and leaned forward over the desk. "And there is one other thing, Earl," he said blandly. "Something was done to you while you were under treatment. A little device which I am sure you will appreciate. Should you break your word, or try to run or disobey me in any way, it will be activated. And then, no matter how you hide, the Cyclan will be able to find you. You will signal your presence like a star in the sky."

Chapter Five

Chard was at war.

The officer who came aboard as soon as they landed was young, brilliant in a gaudy uniform, arrogant with the consciousness of power. He made no attempt to hide his disgust at the state of the vessel.

"It stinks," he snapped. "Only beasts would ride in such filth."

Dumarest was inclined to agree. The Topheir was far from being a luxury vessel. It was small, battered, the plating worn and grimed with dirt. Little more than a hold fitted with cramped quarters and driven by engines unusually powerful for a vessel of its size. A scavenger of the spaceways, a hit-and-run ship used to carry suspicious cargoes, slaves, contraband, illegal imports to restricted worlds. A rover, fast, ideal for the job.

Aihult Chan Parect had chosen well.

Captain Branchard matched his command. A squat, powerful man with a ruff of beard and hands which could bend iron bars. Scowling, he said, "Look, pretty boy, what's this all about?"

"Routine port examination. I am Lieutenant Hein, and I advise you to be civil. Your manifest?"

"Two passengers," snapped Branchard. "Some items of cargo, furs, tanned hides, perfume, ingots of rare metals." He made no effort to produce papers.

"Crew?"

"Myself, an engineer, a navigator."

Hein frowned. "Is that all? No handler? No steward?"

"This is a free trader. We go where there are cargoes to be taken. The larger the crew, the smaller the share. Now, look, if you want to play at soldiers, do it somewhere else. I've work to get on with."

He was being unwise. For a moment the officer stared at him and then said coldly, "For your information, we are in a state of war. There is every possibility that this ship will be commandeered. Until a decision is made, you had best remember your position."

"Commandeered?" Branchard glared his anger. "Stolen, you mean. Listen, you young fool, start anything like that, and before you know it, this planet will be avoided as if it had the plague. No ships will land and none return. If you hope to maintain contact with other worlds, you'd best forget all about throwing your weight in the wrong direction."

He was compounding his indiscretion. Dumarest said quickly, "Captain, I think you misunderstood. The lieutenant did not exactly mean that he would take over your ship. He means that you might be asked to fetch a specific cargo."

"I meant what I said," Hein snapped. "Who are you?"

"This is Lord Dumarest, who is traveling with his lady, Zenya." Branchard spoke before Dumarest could answer. "From Samalle," he added meaningfully. "One of the Warrior Worlds."

A facile lie, but a convenient one. The officer was impressed, but even so he could not restrain his curiosity.

"From Samalle? In such a vessel?"

Dumarest was curt. "How long have you been a soldier?"

Hein reddened. "Not long, my lord, but-"

"Surely long enough to have learned that comfort is not a part of the military creed. This vessel took us where we wanted to go-that is the end of it. Have you men with you?"

"Five, sir. They wait outside."

"And what use would they be to you out there if this was an enemy ship?" Dumarest gave him no time to answer. "You are armed, I see, but your holster is fastened. You stand too close when questioning a subject. There is dirt on your sleeve. If a man is not proud of his uniform, he cannot be proud of his service. Now, straighten, call your men, have them search the ship."

"Sir!" The lieutenant snapped a salute.

"And be courteous with my lady."

"Is she in the cabin, sir? She will not be disturbed."

"Thank you, lieutenant."

Branchard chuckled as the young man moved away. "You did it well, Earl. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd been born on Samalle. You had the tone, the stance, everything. That young fool didn't know what had hit him."

"Why the lie?"

"Why not?" Branchard was cynical. "You didn't want me to tell the truth, and anyway, it could come in useful. I've been through this before. A small war starts, and uniforms rule the roost, young fools like that lieutenant strutting like cockerels and ruining trade. It would be a help to have a friend in a high place. A lord of Samalle, for example. That officer will talk and word will get around. Men trained on the Warrior Worlds are in demand at a time like this, and if you can keep the woman quiet, you could ride the crest. If you want to, that is. If you intend to stay."

"I'm staying."

"Well, that's your business." Branchard hesitated, then said bluntly, "I'm not a fool, Earl, and I can smell when something isn't right I got paid for carrying the pair of you, and no questions asked or answered, but we get on, and I'll put it plain. You and the girl aren't close. If you want to cut free, nows your chance. Ride along with us. An equal share in all we make-you know the system."

"Do I?"

"You know it. You've ridden ships before, and not as just a passenger. A free trader once, am I right? This isn't charity; you would be useful, and you can stay as long as you wish. A month, a year, quit anytime you like."

Dumarest said, "Thank you." And meant it.

"Think it over. The offers open until we leave."

A perfect escape, and one which Dumarest would have taken, had things been normal. The random movements of a free trader negated even the predictive skill of the Cyclan. He had dodged them by such a method before, and would again if it hadn't been for the machinations of Aihult Chan Parect. There could be no thought of escape until he had rid himself of the thing which had been planted within his body.

* * *

Zenya had dressed with care, a clinging gown of scarlet edged with gold, the sleeves long, the skirt full. Gems winked in her hair, and precious metal made a delicate filigree around her throat. Against his somber grayness the colors were accentuated in brilliant contrast. She blinked as he told her of the captain's lie,

"A lady of Samalle? I've never heard of the place, Earl."

"Then don't talk about it. Just remember that it is one of the Warrior Worlds, dedicated to military training, a supplier of mercenaries. If you are questioned, be vague. If they insist on answers, mention security and refer them to me. On no account go into detail. You follow me, you do as I order, that is all you need to say."

She looked down at her gown. "Should I change?"

"No."

"This is hardly a uniform, Earl. Would your lady be so feminine?"

Patiently he said, "You are not a member of any armed force or service. Your prime function is to amuse and entertain."

"You, Earl? As if I were a courtesan?"

"As if you were the selected lady of a high-ranking military officer. A noble of a military caste. You have pride, discretion, and are faithful to your position. Try any games, and you could ruin us both. Smile at no one but me. Talk to no one if you can avoid it. Go nowhere unattended and never be alone with a man other than myself."

Smiling, she said, "That means we have to act as if we are married, Earl. Really married. I'm going to like that."

"I have a job to do, Zenya."

"But do you have to be so remote? All during the voyage you've avoided me. At times you treated me as if I were your enemy. Why, Earl? What have I done?"