"I have the permission of the Technarch to interview you, Major," he said. "You understand that I have his full authority? That in speaking to me you are speaking to him?"

"With respect, cyber, I disagree." Keron was firm. "As an officer attached to the Security Division I must be circumspect. You understand?"

"Are you intelligent, Major?"

"I have nine degrees."

"That isn't answering my question. Do you know what intelligence is?"

"Knowledge," said Keron after a moment. "Education."

"Wisdom is neither," said Ruen in his even monotone. "An untaught man can be wise. And intelligence is not necessarily knowledge. It is, rather, the ability to survive in the environment in which you find yourself. You can appreciate the difference. I venture to state that on Sarg, a planet of blistering heat and little water, you would quickly die." He paused and added, "Dumarest would live."

"Dumarest?"

"The man you allowed to escape." He caught the sudden tension, the almost indiscernible stiffening of his visitor. "You have never heard of him?"

"No."

"I have been checking the records," continued Ruen. "Of the last contingent from Loame how many were suspect?"

"Five. One was a liar, claiming to be the son of a grower when he was not. Three were interrogated and found to be harmless. The other-"

"Escaped," said Ruen. "That man was Dumarest. He was not a spy and comes from no local world. How did he elude your guards?" He waited as Keren explained. "He moved quickly?"

"Very quickly. Faster than any man I have ever seen before."

It was confirmation if Ruen had needed it, which he had not. Logic and extrapolation pointed to the obvious. The message received via Central Intelligence proved that Dumarest must have visited Technos. Now he had to be found. If Keron was as intelligent as he thought he would have found him long ago.

"I take it that you have thoroughly checked the base area? That he was not found?"

"I have and he was not." Keron was irked by the implication that he was incapable of doing his job. "We found his discarded uniform. We also found other clothes which he had left in a hotel. There is a suspicion that he booked at another under the name of Ganish. Other than that, nothing."

"It was getting late," pointed out Ruen. "The temperature was falling and later it snowed. He could not have wandered the streets all night."

"No."

"So he must have found shelter. Where else but on the monorail? Surely you checked?"

"Yes," admitted Keron. "I did. A ticket was sold against my credit card and identification. He stole it together with some money. But he was not on the monorail. Every car was checked and no passenger was found without satisfactory identification."

"He could not have boarded a vessel?"

"Impossible. The gates were locked and the fence guarded. Also each ship was later searched."

Ruen stood thinking, his eyes somber in the stark planes of his face. "The man is in the capital," he said after a moment, "You will find him at a hospital or nursing home. Either that or he will be in jail. Check every patient and prisoner, and when you find him bring him to me. To me, Major, do you understand?"

Keron frowned. "It is a security matter, I am not sure that I can do that."

"You can." Ruen was insistent. "It will be to your advantage. The man means nothing to you. Do as I ask and you will not regret it. I have the confidence of the Technarch and he will promote you if I suggest he do so. Now hurry. Already too much time has been allowed to elapse."

Chapter Nine

THE ROOM was pentagonal, windowless, soft lights casting an artificial moonlight from the vaulted roof, the air heavy and perfumed with a musky odor. Soft carpets lined the floor, and on small tables rested various objects of interest.

Idly Dumarest examined them. A tall cylinder of transparent crystal held a slowly moving growth of fibrous matter, bright colors merging, changing into new patterns, the material streaked and flecked with kaleidoscopic brilliance. Another cylinder held a mass of crystals which spread, piling one on top of another until the jar was filled with a glittering tree, the whole abruptly slumping into a turgid liquid which grew again as he watched, faceted gems forming themselves into new configurations. A cone shimmered with living rainbows. A cube slowly revolved, the lines and planes seeming to shift into other dimensions so that he blinked at the sudden ache in his eyes.

"Children's toys. Mathematical novelties to illustrate natural and scientific law."

The voice had come from behind him. He turned. A door stood open in one of the angles of the pentagon, dim illumination showing a wide bed, a mirror, a table loaded with vials. The woman standing in the opening was almost as tall as himself, hair a dark waterfall streaming to below her shoulders, a thin robe caught just under the breasts with a golden band. She stepped forward, naked feet graced with laced sandals, the movement accentuating the long curves of her thighs. Her face was that of a young and beautiful woman.

"I am Mada Grist." Her hand rose, gold shining from the nails. "Do you remember me?"

"We met on the train." Dumarest caught the proffered hand and lifted it to his lips, feeling the softness and warmth of the olive skin. "It seems, my lady, that I owe you my life."

"You acknowledge the debt?"

"Yes, my lady."

"My name is Mada. You will please me by using it." She moved from the open door of the bedroom and crossed to where a wide, padded bench stood against one of the walls. "You will find wine in that cabinet. Serve us both."

It was held in a jar of frosted glass cut to a mathematical form. The glasses rose like flowers from a solid base. The wine was tart and refreshing to the tongue, scented with a delicate odor and bright with drifting bubbles.

"From Hardish," she said. "They have a knack with wine. Have you been there?"

"No, my lady."

"Mada," she reminded. "There is no need for us to be formal, Earl." Her eyes smiled at his expression. "Yes, I know your name and a little about you. There are techniques known to our medical science which can gather knowledge from a sleeping brain. Earl Dumarest," she mused. "A traveler. A man with a quest." Her voice grew wistful. "Does finding this planet mean so much to you?"

"It does." His voice was guarded. Guessing the reason, she laughed.

"Don't be so wary, Earl. We could only skim your mind and gather information you were willing to give. Your secrets are safe. I would not have ordered the violation of your privacy but certain matters made it urgent that I learn something of the truth." She emptied her glass and held it to be refilled. "That you were not a spy. That you are not an enemy of Technos. That you owe loyalty to none."

"Mada?"

"Never mind." Taking the replenished glass she drank half the contents at a gulp. "Serious matters can come later. For now tell me something of yourself. You have traveled, that I know. Far? To the Center?"

"To the Center and beyond," he said, remembering. How many ships, journeys, worlds? How much time spent traveling Low or riding High? Biologically he was still fairly young but chronologically the years had mounted and, in one respect, he was very old. In experience, the only time scale which held any real meaning. And Mada?

The light was dim, the contours of her face blurred with shadow, but her body was young and appealed to him with primitive attraction. Thoughtfully he sipped at his wine. She was high in this society, that was obvious, and possibly bored and eager for excitement. Often such women sought it in the company of strangers, titillated by novelty, intrigued by the attraction of the unknown.