"Earl!" In the shadows something stirred, took the shape of a man, came forward with a flash of white teeth in the ebon of a caste-marked face. "I wondered how long it would be before you came in."

"Jmombota!" Dumarest lifted a hand in greeting. "Anything new?"

"On Zakym?" The agent shrugged. "During the last period of delusia I saw my grandmother who told me that I was wasting my time here. A waste, don't you think? I hardly needed a visit from the dead to tell me that. As I hardly need you to tell me this world has compensations."

"Was I going to tell you that?"

"People do. All the time. But never, when I offer to allow them to take my place, do they show the slightest eagerness to take advantage of my generosity." The agent glanced at an ornate clock. "A drink?"

Dumarest said, ironically, "Have we the time?"

"I was checking. The suns are well apart now and we have hours before they close. Before delusia I'm going to take something to put me well asleep and to keep me in that state. I was never fond of my grandmother even when she was alive and now that she's dead I can't stand the sight of her." He laughed and produced a bottle. "To your health!"

"To yours!"

They drank and stood for a while in companionable silence. They had little in common either in race or creed but both were men, both alien to the culture of this world, and both knew the meaning of loneliness.

As he poured fresh drinks the agent said, "The ships will arrive when they come, Earl."

"Can you read my mind?"

"Do I have to? Each time you come into town you look at the field. I've seen your eyes and recognize what they hold. I've seen it in other men and, once I think, I had it myself. Once, but no longer-a wife and child took care of that. They provide strong anchors for a man with a tendency to roam."

Dumarest made no comment.

"Sweet traps, someone once called them," continued the agent. "Soft hands which cling and can never be shaken loose." And then, casually, he added, "I understand that you are selling your lands."

"So?"

"I wondered why. Things hard won should not be thrown away. And it is hard to estimate a fair price. You could be cheated, my friend."

"Or dead."

"That too, but we grow solemn." The agent smiled and lifted his glass in a question. The smile widened as Dumarest shook his head. "A wise man once said that happiness can never be found in a bottle, only truth. And truth, when found, can be painful."

"You know a lot of wise men," said Dumarest. "And have a lot of friends. Is Mbom Chelhar one of them?"

"No."

"But you know him?"

"As I know you, Earl. Less well and with less pleasure. He is away at the moment, a guest of someone, I think. Probably examining a herd of some kind. He is an agent for the purchase of beasts so I understand. You see? My knowledge is vague."

Dumarest doubted it. "Is he expected back soon?"

"Perhaps."

"When you see him give him a message. Or get one to him. He is invited to dine at the Castle Delamosk tonight." He added, blandly, "A matter of business. Can the man be trusted?"

For answer the agent picked up a dried fruit from an open container. "Look at this, Earl. When growing in its natural state it is a thing of beauty, apparently succulent and offering the promise of pleasant nourishment. But the show is a lie. Bite into it and you would find the taste of gall and the attributes of medication. A wise man does not trust what he sees."

A warning-and a Hausi did not lie. As he threw the fruit back into its box Dumarest said, "A most useful piece of information. And one which should be rewarded. It is obvious that the Lady Lavinia will need a shrewd agent to handle any business transaction which may arise from the selling of her beasts. It would be to her interest to deal through you and, naturally the usual commissions will be paid. That is if you are willing to accept the commission?"

A good arrangement and one offering mutual advantage. Smiling the agent reached for the bottle.

"I shall be happy to serve. With contacts like yourself, Earl, I may yet achieve my ambition to retire to a palace on Hitew. A small one, naturally, but large enough for the garden to be filled with the singing blooms of Zlethe. There I shall sit as the sun descends and merge with the music which the plants and I shall create. Who knows? I may even become a famous composer. You will join me in a toast to that?" His tone changed a little, became more meaningful. "Let us drink to the ambitions of us both, my friend. May we each achieve our heart's desire!"

Again they stood in silence each engrossed in his own private dream, then the agent, setting down his glass said, "An interesting item of news, Earl. A wrecked vessel was discovered drifting in the Rift. A small trader by the shape. Incredibly it still contained a living man. They took him to Fralde."

Chapter Six

The building was of stone, massive blocks fused together with the heat of lasers, windows shaped in tall, pointed arches, the stories rearing one above the other against a somber sky. Leaden stone set in leaden grounds against leaden clouds. On Fralde everything was grey.

Director Ningsia matched his environment. A short, blocky man with skin bearing creases as if it too were made of stone. Grey hair swept back from a high forehead. His mouth was thin, the lips bloodless, the eyes slanted ovoids beneath uprising brows. His uniform was grey; only the insignia of his rank riding high on his left bicep shone with luminous emerald.

A neatly precise man dedicated to the stern dictates of his culture. One who believed in the submergence of self to the good of the whole.

He said, "Cyber Ardoch the matter is being dealt with in the usual way. The man is beyond any aid we can give."

"But he is still alive?"

"Amazingly, yes. His continued existence is a contravention of all accepted standards of the survival-attributes of the human race. My own speculation is that he has certain mutant traits which has increased his defense mechanisms to an incredible extent. The condition of his epidermis and the internal decay alone would have killed any normal man. An interesting specimen which is, of course, the reason we have devoted so much time and material to his welfare."

An attitude the cyber could appreciate.

"You have information as to the original situation?"

"Of course. The rescue vessel was a small ship operating from this planet and engaged in plotting the energy-flows occurring in this region of the Rift. Its detectors spotted mass and an investigation was made. The wreck was little more than twisted metal as was to be expected but, incredibly, a portion of it remained intact. Apparently the sole occupant had sealed himself within and insulated the compartment with a pattern of meshed wires fed by battery-power. In effect he had, somehow, managed to heterodyne the destructive energies of the Rift. Naturally he had also a supply of food and water which, together with quick-time-but surely you have read the report?"

"I have."

"There is nothing more I can add." Ningsia made a small gesture, one of dismissal. "A full autopsy will be made after the man has died and the report completed. If you are interested I will see to it that a copy is sent to you."

Ardoch said, evenly, "That is not why I am here, Director. It is essential that I see the man."

"See him?" Ningsia frowned. "What purpose would that serve the patient? He is comatose."

"Even so, Director, I must insist."

The cyber didn't raise his voice, it continued to be the trained, even modulation carefully designed to eliminate all irritant factors, but the Director was under no illusion. The Cyclan was powerful and the cyber was a servant of the Cyclan.