"Destroyed?" The merchant in Oaken forced the objection. "Do you realize just how many plants that is? Marshal, we can't do it!"

"Thirty villages," said Stone. "Three hundred square miles. The economy would never stand it."

Colonel Paran said shrewdly, "You're thinking of cover, Earl? It makes sense, but would a mile be necessary?"

"To give complete protection, yes."

"I see. And the third thing?"

"To make contact with the Ayutha." Dumarest rose from the table. "I will see to it as soon as I have enough men properly trained. And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me?"

* * *

He heard the sound of water as he entered the suite and Zenya's voice raised in song. It was a cheerful air such as might be sung at a celebration, the words casual, hinting of love and fulfillment and eternal bliss. A dream, as all such songs were.

"Earl?" She had heard the sound of the opening door, perhaps the heavy tread of his feet. She came from the bathroom, rubbing her hair with a fluffy towel, the long lines of her body barely covered by the material. "Darling!" Her eyes mirrored the shock in her voice. "You look dreadful-so tired. Some wine?"

"Later."

"After when, darling?" She saw the drawn look on his face and ceased her romantic byplay. "A hard time?"

Times were always hard when dead men lay thick, broken bodies like discarded toys on the soft dirt. And there had been more than men-women, children, babies, even pets.

"Yes," he said flatly. "A hard time."

"But it's over, and you've come back to me, and now you're safe." She looked at the package he carried. "A present?"

Without answering, he set the parcel on a table, ripped it open, and activated the mechanism it contained. An electronic baffle to nullify any watching device-high rank had certain conveniences.

"Your uniform came," she said. "I've hung it up in the wardrobe. Are you going to wear it? It would be nice for us to go out and eat somewhere and have everyone looking at us and know that you are the marshal and I am your lady. Susal-the colonel's wife-took me to a place last night for dinner. The food was fabulous, and they had a wonderful troupe of dancers. The best I've seen since we left Samalle. Earl…" She frowned. "You aren't listening."

He said flatly, "Just what instructions did Chan Parect give you before we left Paiyar?"

"Earl?" She stared at him, eyes wide. "Earl, you told me not to mention things like that."

"You can talk now. This will baffle any listening ears." He gestured at the mechanism softly humming on the table. "Did he tell you why we came here?"

"Of course. To find his son, Salek."

"And what else?" He resisted the impulse to reach out and shake her. "What would you have done, for example, had I shipped out?"

"I'd have gone with you."

"And if I'd left you behind?"

A veil seemed to fall over the amber of her eyes, making her suddenly appear older, more subtle, a little evil. A mask to hide nothing, perhaps, or to hide a secret she had no intention of telling. And yet, it was something he had to know.

"Earl!" She recoiled as she saw his face, the cruel set of his mouth. "Earl, don't look at me like that!"

"You were given orders," he said tightly. "I want to know what they were."

"Why bother, darling?" Her smile was soft, wanton. "You'll find Salek, and we'll all go home, and then we'll live happily until we die. You see, it's all so simple. There is no need for you to worry at all."

A man to find, who could be anywhere; a threat hanging over him, should he fail; a war to win before his pretense was discovered. And she said that he had nothing to worry about.

A child would have spoken like that, but Zenya was no child. With savage answer he threw the flat of his hand against her cheek.

"Damn you, woman! Tell me!"

"Earl!" She recoiled, eyes wide with shock, one hand lifted to the red welts on the bronze of her skin. "You hit me! You hit me!"

"I'll kill you if you don't answer!"

He meant it; the need of survival overrode all gentler instincts, and his determination showed on his face, in his eyes, his voice. She recognized it, accepted it, found a warped pleasure in surrendering to his mastery.

"I was to send a message to the Cyclan telling them where you had been and where you were going if possible. And I was to send another to grandfather telling him that you had failed. That I had failed."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Earl. That is all."

It was too simple, too open for the devious mind of Aihult Chan Parect, and yet he had no evidence that she spoke other than the truth. Had the old man gambled on the bait of her body and the promise of later fortune being enough to hold him? Thinking it enough when coupled with a bluff?

Wine stood on a table, and he helped himself, ignoring the girl, standing with eyes narrowed before the window. Rafts passed in the night outside, lights brilliant against the stars, each vehicle loaded with uniformed men. Fresh detachments for the field, forces accumulating for the inevitable attack, should all else fail. And other rafts, big cargo carriers, grim as they transported their loads of dead.

From behind him Zenya said softly, "Earl?"

She had dressed in a gown of clinging golden fabric, gems bright in the mane of her hair, head held high, the marks of his fingers carried proudly like a badge.

He said, "Tell me about Salek Parect."

"You should bathe, Earl, and change. It will refresh you, and I want to see you in uniform."

"Tell me about the man I'm looking for."

"I never saw him, Earl. He left Paiyar before I was born. From what others have told me, he was a dreamer, always reading old books and studying ancient scrolls. He had a theory that men had left the right way-whatever that is supposed to mean. Cant we forget him, Earl?"

"I have to find him."

"I know, but later. You have been away a long time, and I missed you." She came forward a little, perfume wafting before her, arms lifted in invitation. "I missed you so very much."

He said, "I need to bathe and change."

* * *

They ate in a place gilded with glowing light, rainbows chasing each other on the walls, the ceiling a mass of drifting smoke shot with glimmers of random brightness. Music came from a living orchestra, martial tunes and exotic rhythms, the throb of drums merging with the wail of pipes, flutes soaring, strings quivering the air. Tall hostesses moved softly on naked feet, their ankles adorned with tiny bells which chimed as they glided between the tables. The food was a succession of dishes, spiced, plain, meats and fish and compotes of fruit, delicacies composed of crushed nuts blended with a dozen different flavors.

Uniforms were everywhere, officers entertaining their women, faces flushed, voices a little too loud, peacocks strutting and enjoying their hour of glory. Volunteers all, paying for their uniforms, their arms, looking on the war as a great adventure.

"Earl," whispered Zenya, "I'm so proud of you. You make these others look like inexperienced boys."

Dumarest made no comment, sipping wine that tasted of honey and mint, icy cold to the mouth, warming as it slid past his throat. He felt tired and wished that he was back in the suite, but it was to be expected that he would entertain his lady.

"Sir?" A middle-aged man stood before him, the insignia of a major bright on his collar. "With respect, marshal, the captain and I are having a little argument, which perhaps you would be good enough to resolve." He gestured to the table he had left, the man and the two women watching. "With your permission?"

He was more than a little drunk; it was easier to agree than argue.

"What is it, major?"

"It has to do with weapons, sir. I advocate lasers, but the captain states that a rifle is as effective, in trained hands. Your opinion?"