Was that why she had saved him, had him healed and, when he was wholly fit, brought to her apartments in the palace?

He lowered the glass, conscious of danger. Such a woman could have jealous guardians quick to hire an assassin to cleanse the honor of their house.

"You are somber," she said. "Why?"

Bluntly he told her.

"Assassins?" Her laughter was strained. "No, Earl. That is the least you have to fear. Technos is not a primitive culture with a proud nobility and formal ways. And I have no husband, no lover, none who would object to any liaison I may make." Again she held out her glass for it to be replenished. "You have known many women?"

"A few."

"Now you are being discreet. I would venture to guess that many women have found you attractive. Have you never thought of marrying? Of settling down?"

"Yes."

"And what happened? Why didn't you?" The wine, she realized, was going to her head, and its aphrodisiacal qualities accentuated the desire burning her flesh. "What happened Earl? Why hasn't some woman claimed you for her own?"

"Fate, my lady," he said quietly. "Death and unfortunate circumstances."

"And you don't want to talk about it," she said quickly. "I understand." Her hand rested on his own, the long fingers caressing the flesh, halting as they rested on the ring he wore on the third finger of his left hand. "And this? A gift?"

"Yes, my lady."

Her voice was sharp. "From a woman?"

"Yes," said Dumarest, and added, "she is gone. It was some time ago."

"Dead?"

"You would call it that."

"I'm glad." she said. "I would not like to have to share you." Fabric rustled as she turned to him, taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside. "Now," she whispered. "I have waited too long. Now!"

* * *

A lamp burned in the center of the groined roof, its wash of kaleidoscopic colors turning the chamber into a vault of mystery, swathes of red and yellow, orange and blue, green and smoky amber drifting over the wide bed, his naked body, the furnishings of the apartment. Dumarest stared at it, lying supine, his eyes half closed against its hypnotic compulsion. From beyond a door came the sound of rushing water, a shower where the woman laved her body, but even there the light was dim.

Shadows, he thought, and strangeness. The burning demands of a young and nubile body but the face had remained almost totally serene. Only the eyes had reflected the passion and, when he had tried to caress her cheek, she had prevented it, holding his hand, guiding it to the soft contours of her body.

A mask? It was more than possible, but if so it was the product of a master. She had smiled and sighed and pursed her lips for his kiss. Drifting shadows of changing color had blurred all detail and mounting passion had taken care of the rest. But now, with passion spent, there was time for thought.

"Earl."

He rose as she came from the bathroom. The robe was once again adorning her body, the hair falling neatly to her shoulders, the graceful feet enhanced by the sandals.

"Bathe," she said, "and dress. We have much to discuss."

She watched as he moved toward the shower, feeling again the strength of his arms, the joy he had given. Perturbed she went to a cabinet, opened it, selected a drug from assembled vials. Somehow she must control the rebellious reactions of her body. He had slaked her desire but still the yearning remained. It must be crushed if she was to remain in control of the situation.

The drug quieted her so that she was calm when he joined her in the pentagonal chamber. She poured them both wine, a different vintage from that they had drunk before, handing him a goblet and sitting so as to face him.

"To health," she said. "To the achievement of heart's desire."

Dumarest drank to the toast.

"Love," she said. "Another name for the chemical reaction occurring between the sexes. A romantic definition of the urge to procreate. You agree?"

"My lady, I-"

"Mada," she interrupted. "How can we be formal now?"

"It is not always wise to build a future on events of the past," he said quietly. "It is a mistake often made and one for which many men have suffered."

Had he? She studied him over the rim of her glass, resentful of his calmness while appreciating his tact and diplomacy. He was telling her that the incident could be forgotten. It made it easier for her to guide the conversation.

"You are a traveler. It must be wonderful to visit new worlds and see different cultures. Are most of them barbaric?"

"No, Mada. Usually a world when colonized falls into a definite pattern. Great houses rise to control government and industry. But others are based on different forms of society. Kren is a world in which democracy has been carried to the ultimate. Nothing can be decided until a referendum has been taken. Computers, naturally, make this simple. Pharso, on the other hand, is a dictatorship with supreme authority vested in one man who is chosen by lot each five years. Charos is a world devoted to athletic prowess. Status is determined by victories scored at games and combats. The old and those unable to compete are relegated to the status of servitors."

"An interesting system," she commented. "Those once in power inevitably wind up as demoted citizens. It should make them consider the welfare of the servitors if nothing else. They would be safeguarding their own future."

Dumarest poured them both more wine, wondering at the woman's motives. "And Technos?"

"A meritocracy based on educational attainment." She sipped at her wine. "To you it must seem a strange culture. There is small chance for individual freedom of the type to which you must be accustomed. Technos was a bleak world. In the beginning everything had to be subordinate to the common welfare. There was no room for wasted effort, even the unfit were culled at birth or shortly afterward. Now citizens are allowed to breed only if they reach a certain mental level. The dream was of a continually rising spiral of intelligence governed on scientific principles."

"An ambitious undertaking," said Dumarest. "Why did it fail?"

"Fail?"

"Technos is at war. War, by definition, is a confession of failure. It requires little intelligence to beat a weaker man with a club."

"And much to persuade him to do what you want while letting him think he wants to do it?" She nodded. "You are right, but one mistake doesn't make a failure."

"You have made more than one. A viable culture should not erect barriers to prevent the free passage of visitors or residents. Technos is a hard world to reach. Science should not be afraid of the truth."

"And travelers carry truth?"

He smiled. "Not always. Most travelers simply want the chance to work and accumulate enough money to buy another passage. Is that possible here?"

"No." She paused, watching him, gauging the moment. "You acknowledge the fact that you owe me your life. Do you consider the debt paid?"

Dumarest met her eyes. "No."

"You want to leave Technos, to continue your search for Earth. I can help you."

"At a price, my lady?"

"Money and a High passage," she said quickly. "All made easy for you to go. In return I want you to do one thing." She drew in her breath. "I want you to kill the Technarch!"

* * *

The silence grew, deepened by the drifting shadows from the open door of the bedroom, the glow of artificial moonlight from the vaulted roof. Dumarest looked at his hands, raising his head to meet the woman's eyes.

Quietly he said, "I am not an assassin, my lady."

"You are a fugitive, on Technos without legal right, subject to punishment when caught. Hard punishment." she emphasized. "Interrogation and, perhaps, death. Unless I aid you, capture is certain. And you admit that you owe me your life."