Was she innocent, or ingenious? It was impossible to tell. He said emotionlessly, "I've had a lot on my mind, Zenya. If you are ready, let us go."

A car waited at the foot of the ramp. As they descended, Lieutenant Hein snapped to attention, his men following suit. His salute was crisp.

"My lord, I have been in contact with my superiors. They ask you and your lady to be their guests. The car will take you to the Kesh Tower." He added self-consciously, "It is the finest hotel in the city."

Zenya said, "That is most kind."

"It is a pleasure, my lady." Hein's eyes searched her face, dropped to the contours of her body, rose again as he became aware of Dumarest's attention. "You have baggage, my lord?"

"We are traveling light," said Dumarest dryly. "A force moves faster when it lives off the land. Who is your ranking officer?"

"Major Leem, sir."

"Of the field operations, yes. And his?"

"Colonel Paran."

"I hope to have the pleasure of meeting him," said Dumarest. "When I do, I shall commend your courtesy. Now, if you will take my lady's bag?"

It was small, holding only her gowns, jewelry, and cosmetics. The lieutenant placed it in the car, ushered them into the rear compartment, saluted again as it drove away.

At his side Zenya said, "That was a nice man, Earl."

His hand dropped to her knee, squeezed it in warning. "A potentially fine officer," he said curtly. "He needs polishing, but the material is there. Be silent now and allow me to examine the city."

It was as he had expected, a sprawl of low houses dominated by a few high towers, laced with streets and avenues. Zenya was entranced; she clung to his arm as they glided onward, her eyes wide at each new sight, the lines of marching men, the banners, the throng of pedestrians wearing a variety of clothing. Uniforms were everywhere, young men flushed with martial fever strutting along the sidewalks, girls at their sides, reveling in newfound importance.

Photographers waited outside the hotel, lenses aimed, shutters snapping, a portable TV camera following them as they left the car and entered the foyer. Publicity Dumarest could have done without, but dared not avoid. The lie invented by Branchard had spread faster than he had expected, yet the arrival of a reputed master of military prowess would be a thing to catch the interest of a world at war.

Within the foyer, others waited. A man came forward, recorder in hand. "My lord, have you come to Chard to aid our war effort?"

"How soon do you think victory will be ours, sir?"

"Are you here as a participant or as an observer?"

"My lady, if you will smile, please?"

A deep voice rose above the babble. "Gentlemen! This is no way to treat our guest. You will all be given the opportunity of asking your questions at a later date. In the meantime, military necessity must take precedence over your desire for news."

A tall man moved forward, grizzled hair short beneath a uniform cap, the insignia of high command bright on the collar of his tunic. The hand he extended was broad, backed with a fine down of russet hair.

"I am Colonel Paran. Welcome to Chard, sir. We are pleased to meet you and your lady."

His grip was firm. As Dumarest released the hand he said, "You are efficient, colonel. We have barely left the field."

"We do our best, sir. And it would be impolite not to extend a personal welcome to a master of military acumen. Professional courtesy, in these times more than any other, must be observed." He glanced to where aides had ushered the newsmen to the sides of the foyer. "Now, of course, you wish to refresh yourselves. All has been arranged. A suite to accommodate you, food if you are hungry." He paused, then added, "I understand the ship on which you arrived was not of the best."

"It served."

"To bring you to Chard?"

"It landed here." Dumarest met the shrewd eyes. "Another vessel could take me to where I have a commission waiting."

"You are engaged?"

"A preliminary survey… but that would not interest you."

"I understand." Paran hesitated. "I would appreciate the opportunity of a conference. A casual discussion with myself and a few others. If that would be possible… "

"Certainly." Dumarest glanced to where Zenya stood preening herself. "Shall we say in an hour?"

* * *

The suite was luxurious, broad windows giving a clear view of the city, the furnishings all of white and amber. Zenya roved through it, her musical voice rising, fading as she passed from room to room.

"Earl, this is delightful. Scented waters in the shower, a sunken tub, carpets everywhere. Such a change after that dreadful ship."

He stood looking at the walls, the ceiling, making no comment.

"Earl?" She came toward him, painted nails glistening beneath the hem of her skirt, the long, supple lines of her thighs prominent at every step. "My dear aunt should be with us. She would be green with envy. We have nothing like this on-"

Her voice broke as he pressed his lips to her own.

"Earl?" Her voice was muffled. She pushed against him, and then her arms rose to tighten about his neck. Beneath the fabric of her gown her body was a soft and living flame. "Earl! Oh, my darling! My darling!"

He buried his face in the mane of her hair, found her ear, and whispered harshly, "Watch what you say, you fool! This place is full of electronic devices."

He felt her stiffen, the warmth of her sudden anger. As her hands fell from his neck, to press against his chest, he added, "We are being watched. Every word we say is being recorded. Why else do you think they gave us this suite?"

In return she whispered, "Is that why you kissed me? Just to stop my mouth?"

A woman scorned was a dangerous adversary. Outraged pride would blind her to the peril of released emotion.

"No," he said. "That wasn't the entire reason. You are a beautiful woman, and you know it."

"Just as long as you know it, Earl." Her voice was a purr. "And there can be no harm in this, can there? This and other things. After all, I am supposed to be your wife."

A position she wanted to take and one he could not safely deny. Another trap, but one into which any man would be eager to enter. The bait of her softness, her beauty, the promise Chan Parect had made. A fair exchange, perhaps, for the endless search for a forgotten world.

"Earl?"

Releasing her, he stepped back, his voice casual. "Later, my dear. First we must bathe and refresh ourselves. Our guests will be here shortly."

Like a born actress she fitted into her assumed part.

"You must not forget the commission, darling."

"True, but there is no hurry. We could spend a few days here, and possibly learn something of interest. The war cannot be old, or we would have heard about it." Dumarest moved to a window and stood looking down at the city. "No antiaerial defenses," he mused. "Of course, there could be lasers on the roof, but if so, they would be vulnerable to attack. Well, it is no problem of ours."

"True." She stretched, lifting her arms, throwing back her head, so that the coils of her hair hung loosely down her back. "I must see about replenishing my wardrobe. We left in such a hurry that I had hardly time to pack a thing. I wonder if they have new fashions here? Military worlds produce some odd combinations. Will it be possible to go shopping, do you think?"

"I imagine so."

"Later, after your conference?"

"We'll see."

"And will you help me pick some gowns, darling? You have such good taste when it comes to fashion. I am sure my aunt would think so. Of course, I had better not buy too many."

"At one time, no," he agreed. The conversation was banal, but safe. They would hardly be expected to wait in silence, and after a hard journey, a release of passion would be normal.