"Assuming?"

"We can't be positive without more proof," admitted Dumarest. "That is why I ordered the construction of the line. No one can pass it without being seen. I've had men and rafts search the lofios area, and no trace of the Ayutha has been discovered. Now, if another village is destroyed, what must we assume?"

"I see your point," said Stone. "If they weren't in the area, then they couldn't have done it."

"They could." Oaken was definite. "They are cunning; they could leave the hills to the north and swing in a circle past the ends of the line. Damnit, marshal, you don't need me to tell you that."

"Outside the lofios the ground is pretty open," said Dumarest patiently. "Rafts will spot any movement." He reached for another paper. "This is the computer findings on the attacks. When you look at the map, they seem absolutely random, but that doesn't make sense if directed by a force operating from the hills. Men can travel on foot only so far in a day. Equipment would be heavy, and the danger of discovery enhanced the farther they penetrated. Yet villages close to the hills were missed and others, much more distant, attacked."

Oaken scowled. "So?"

"You're convinced the Ayutha are the enemy. I'm trying to show you that they needn't be. For example, if I wanted to ruin the economy of Chard, I could work from the city, delivering stores, maybe, cases containing gas and timed charges. Any chemist could make such things. If that was the case, then the random pattern makes sense."

Another shock, but now they were not so quick to protest. He had shaken their iron confidence, shown them that what seemed to be obvious was not always the correct answer. As they sat, brooding, he filled a glass with water, added ice, sat with the frosted container in his hand.

Oaken said, "You put up a good argument, marshal, but it isn't good enough. You say the Ayutha can't be responsible; I say they are. No civilized man would spread nerve gas among harmless people. They told you they hadn't done it, and you believed them. Why? How can the ones you spoke to know everything that's going on?"

"That's right," said Stone. "And they've changed. You saw that for yourself. The flame bombs they used-how would primitives have made them without help? And if they had help to make those things, they could have had more." He added pointedly, "You must have thought of that."

"Yes," said Dumarest.

"And guessed who could be responsible?"

"Yes," he said again.

"Those damned social workers!" Oaken slammed his fist on the table. "Of course! We assumed they had been killed, but suppose they hadn't? Some of them were clever and skilled with their hands. They could have been taken prisoner, forced to teach the Ayutha to make gas, other things. There's your answer, marshal. I say to hell with the truce. Let's go in now and end this thing once and for all."

Dumarest said, "You can't. You daren't."

The phone rang before anyone could answer. It was Zenya. She said quickly, "Earl, I'm sorry, but I have to talk to you. It's Lisa, she-"

"I am in conference."

"I know." The face was stubborn, the tone to match. "The operator told me, but this can't wait. She said that you wanted me to-"

He sensed the coming indiscretion and snapped, "I told you that I was in conference. Naturally your aunt will stay in our suite for the duration of her visit. Entertain her. Urgent business will prevent my seeing either of you for a while."

"Please, Earl. I need you."

He said harshly, "And so does the war. My place is in the field. I suggest, my lady, that you remember yours."

And remember too the listening ears, the watchful eyes, the indiscretions and the jealousy which could ruin his pretense. Lisa had been goading her-that was obvious; and like a child, she had sought his help and reassurance. Well, let them fight if they wished; he would stay away from both until one problem, at least, had been solved.

Oaken said, "What did you mean, marshal? We can't go in. We daren't."

"Think about it." Dumarest looked at his glass. The ice had dissolved; the water was cold, refreshing. "As you pointed out and as I know to my cost, they have flame-bomb launchers. Small, perhaps, but they can be made larger, the bombs also. Go into the hills, and they will scatter. You will need thousands of men to comb every nook and cranny, and at least a quarter of those men will die. You doubt it?" He looked from Stone to Oaken, seeing their faces, merchants who believed that a large enough number of men would ensure certain victory. "If I worked for the Ayutha and not for you, I could maintain this conflict until you were bled white. Every soldier you sent would bring me arms and ammunition. Rafts could be shot down from the sky. Unless you used radioactives, I would turn those hills into a citadel. I would lose, eventually, but only because of the limited number of my men. But I assure you, it would take years."

Dumarest refilled his glass, conscious of thirst, the tension caused by fatigue and mounting strain.

He continued, "The Ayutha are telepathic A rudimentary talent, perhaps, but enough to give them a close-knit network of communications equal to if not better than our own. And you forget how vulnerable you are. Destroy the lofios, and you have lost the war. With more powerful launchers and larger bombs, they could do just that. Fire is the best friend of the guerrilla. One man can destroy a city by its means. The Ayutha have thousands." He ended, "I suggest you do it my way, gentlemen. It might not be as spectacular, but believe me, in the long run it will be far cheaper."

Colonel Paran said, "Earl, do you trust the Ayutha?"

"I think they have a genuine desire to end this conflict, yes."

"Why?"

"Because they are afraid," said Dumarest bluntly. "Because they are basically gentle. Because they are human."

And because they were telepathic and knew the danger inherent in the carrying of weapons. The arrogance, aggressiveness, insensitivity, and contempt the power to kill gave a man unless consciously controlled. He had seen the results of military castes on a dozen worlds, and all had followed a path that led to the inevitable destruction of all that was kind and gentle. When respect became equated with force, only brutality could hope to survive.

Chapter Thirteen

Someone had lit a fire, a small thing of burning twigs, spluttering a little as it rested in a shallow dip at the edge of the line. It glowed, a patch of brightness in the night, a thing built more for comfort than anything else. Smoke rose from it, a thin plume breaking as it reached the height of the lofios, to ripple in a delicate fan.

From beside it a corporal rose, saluting. "Sir!"

"Anything to report?"

"No, sir."-the soldier leaned forward, squinting-"marshal. Not a thing. Everything as silent as a grave."

The association disturbed him. He added, "That is, sir, a-"

" 'Boy creeping up on a girl hoping to kiss her unawares,' " said Dumarest. "I understand, corporal." He glanced at the fire; the ashes were too red, too bright. "Better bank that."

"Kill it, sir!"

"No." There would be other fires, and orders could be enforced only so far. "Just cover the embers so you won't lose your night vision. I want sharp eyes when you go on watch. Worried, soldier?"

"I'd be happier with a rifle, sir."

"You're covered, so don't worry. Just remember that there's a promotion for the man who spots any of the Ayutha and keeps his head. I hope you win it, corporal. You'd make a fine officer."

Bribery, but everything helped. As Dumarest passed on down the line, Captain Hamshard, at his side, said, "Do you think anything will happen, sir?"

"Such as?"

"Well… another attack."