The monorail stood on a rise of ground from which it was possible to look over the city, a suburb really, clustered about the landing field. It was thick with the expected guards. Dumarest walked among them, not looking around, striding directly to an information board. It was a loop system, a train running directly to the capital to the east, another heading along to the west, skirting the coast and joining a branch leading back to Technos. No man in his right mind would take that route if going to the capital.

Conscious of the guards, Dumarest walked to the ticket office.

"One to Farbein."

"Single or return?"

"Return."

The clerk reached for a ticket, thrust it into a machine and looked at Dumarest. "Identification, please."

Dumarest produced Keren's card.

It was a gamble. As yet they couldn't know he had changed the color of his skin and a partition between himself and the clerk blurred details. The man picked up the card, added it to the ticket in the machine and pressed a lever.

"All right. Major," he said handing over both ticket and card. "Platform two. You've got twenty minutes to wait."

He didn't even look up as he said it.

Chapter Six

FROM HER WINDOW Mada Grist stared at a dancing swirl of snowflakes and felt an unaccustomed pleasure in watching the steady fall. It had begun an hour ago and now the woods and hills, the logged outhouses of the hotel were covered with a fluffy white blanket, bright in the light of the beacon rotating on the roof. There was a random charm about the flakes, she thought, each holding its own pattern, each drifting to the vagaries of the wind, to settle and add to the thickening blanket.

Like people, she thought, pleased with the analogy. Born to drift and then finally to settle. But the comparison was incorrect. People, unlike flakes of snow, could determine their direction and choose their own place of landing.

Musing she turned from the window, polarizing the glass to insure her privacy, the interior lights brightening as she touched a control. A mnemonic clock whispered the time, adding that she had only thirty minutes before the time set for dinner. She ignored it, concentrating instead on her reflection in a long mirror.

The body was superb.

Fabric rustled as she eased the thin robe from her shoulders, bright synthetics falling to mound at her feet. They were slender, high arched, without blemish. Long legs rose, tapering, from fine ankles and shapely calves. The hips swelled beneath a narrow waist, the waist rising to high breasts and rounded shoulders. Her hands touched the thighs, rose over the cage of her ribs to cradle the molded fullness, rose higher to pause at the base of her throat.

The clock whispered again, this time adding that the council was due to meet in a couple of hours. Trust Vargas to choose such a peculiar time. He was growing more irrational every day, but it wouldn't be the first session she had missed and she doubted if it would be the last. And, tonight, there were more important things to do.

Reluctantly she turned from the mirror, recognizing the narcissus complex and a little amused by it. How many women, she wondered, were in love with their own bodies? How many had cause?

Dressing, she left the room. Krell, his face anxious, met her in the passage outside. It was paneled with dark wood carved with depictions of the chase, men hunting beasts with primitive weapons. Against the implied virility of the motifs he looked diminished and insignificant, an illusion heightened by the furtiveness of his eyes.

"I'm worried, Mada," he said. "I think we'd better call the whole thing off?"

"The meeting? Why?"

"Brekla hasn't arrived. Marmot called to say that he's been delayed. Dehnar-"

"Is a coward," she interrupted. "And so are you, Eegan. Sometimes I wonder how you ever managed to win your seat on the council."

"And that's another thing. There's a meeting called and we shall be missed. I honestly think that we'd better leave it until a later occasion."

He meant it, she decided, searching his face. He wanted to abandon the whole enterprise and run back to what he imagined was safety. To bow and cringe and hope to be overlooked in what was certain to come. To hide like a rabbit-and to scream like one if caught. It was hard to remember that they had once been lovers.

"You're a fool," she said flatly. "You're letting your imagination run away with you. So what if the others can't come? We are here to enjoy a private dinner, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"But-"

"What are you afraid of? We intended to talk about the Technarch-is that a crime? We are members of the Supreme Council and have the right to discuss anything we want wherever we want. But now we won't even do that. We will simply enjoy the evening and that is all."

"We could be watched," he said miserably. "Vargas has spies everywhere. If he knew that we had gotten together he would be immediately suspicious."

"He's that already." Firmly she tucked her arm through his and led him to where a waterfall of stairs fell to the dining area below. "But if we suddenly leave for no apparent reason he will have grounds for thinking the worst. Now smile," she ordered. "You are the host, remember? Look as if you're enjoying yourself."

It was a place in which to have pleasure. The area below was bright with polished weapons; the walls hung thick with trophies: mounted heads watching with glass eyes, horned and fanged and once terrible but now only pathetic decorations. Glass and silver and snowy linen reflected the glow of a great fire and the discreet brightness of facsimile flambeaux. The air was scented with wood smoke, and the soft music carried the sound of wind in the trees.

Shergan met them at the foot of the stairs. He smiled as, bowing, he kissed her hand. "Mada, my dear, you look superb! What do you think of the weather?"

"The snow? I like it."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm arranging a party to take advantage of it. The hills will be ideal for skis and toboggans, and we can have a fire and hold a winter picnic. Does the prospect attract you?"

She hesitated, almost yielding to temptation. It had been a long time since she had sported in the snow. Regretfully she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no. There's too much work waiting for me and it would be criminal to ignore it."

Shergan was insistent. "Work can wait. What's the point of being on the council if we can't take a vacation when we want one? Come on, Mada, you'll enjoy yourself."

He had not, she noticed, invited Krell. Was there more to the invitation than appeared on the surface? Again she shook her head.

"No, and don't try to change my mind. It simply isn't possible."

"To change your mind?" Shergan smiled as he summoned a waiter and ordered drinks. "Isn't that the prerogative of a woman, to change her mind? You were always a hard one to convince, Mada, but I'm not giving up hope."

About what, she wondered, sipping at her glass. The distillation warmed her throat and stomach and added to the enjoyment of the surroundings. Even Krell seemed to have lost some of his worry though his eyes were still furtive as he scanned the room. Searching for spies lurking behind the furniture. At times he was pathetic in his concern.

Marmot joined them as she finished her drink. He was apologetic. "Sorry I'm late, but something came up at the last minute."

"Glad you could make it," said Krell. He seemed relieved. "Brekla and Dehnar won't be joining us. Alica isn't down yet, but she is here. How was the journey?"

"Not too bad though the snow's pretty thick over the city." Marmot took a gulp of the drink a waiter brought him. "There was a power failure. A fine thing to happen. I'm going to propose that an inquiry be held to investigate the cause. Someone's been careless and I want to see him pay."