Dumarest rose and dressed and lingered for a moment before stepping from the room. Outside Althea was waiting, her eyes widening as she saw the sling supporting his left arm.

"It's nothing." He smiled so as to relieve her anxiety. "Just a little soreness. What's been happening?"

"Too much." Her face was drawn, fatigue creasing the soft skin around her eyes. "The committee has been in session for hours and there have been urgent matters to attend to. Volodya has taken over, a virtual dictator-on the grounds of necessity, he claimed. Brandt was with him as were Lijert and Stanton. Prideaux objected but was beaten at the vote when Towitsch sided with Volodya. So there it is." The gesture of her hands was one of defeat. "It's been a long day, Earl."

Hours which for him had been weeks, but he had been resting drugged and unconscious, fed by artificial means while she had had to face the opposition alone.

Dumarest said, "What of the Corps?"

"I don't know."

"The men who went outside with me? What is the position?" Thorne could have lied. "I know Medwin is alive but who else?"

She said, "You had five teams each of a dozen men and each with its own captain. Of the five Medwin and Quiley are still alive though Quiley was hurt. Of the men eighteen returned alive and a dozen of them are injured. Half will be lucky to make it."

Those losses had to have an adverse effect on morale. No wonder Thorne had been so bitter. Dumarest said, "What of the others?"

"The enemy? None were found alive."

Or if alive had not lived long. That was a possibility but Dumarest discounted it; the Terridae were too gentle for ruthless murder. "Their bodies?"

They were down near the reclamation plant, stretched in a ragged line, stripped of their suits and looking like broken and discarded dolls. A half-dozen of them, more than Dumarest had expected. Hard-faced men bearing a common stamp. Mercenaries, trading in war, selling their skills and obedience to any willing to pay. Vellani lay to the far end, his hair cropped to form a dark cap over a peaked skull. His face was broad, the mouth cruel, a scar running over one cheek. A proud man who wore his name blazoned on the black and gold of his uniform. A wolf and the leader of wolves.

"From Sorkendo," said Althea when Dumarest glanced at her. "We searched them and found papers from that world. Some bills, a program to a local spectacle, some stamped photographs of women."

"Vellani?"

"Nothing. His pockets were empty aside from a medical pack containing a variety of drugs and some packs of narcotic gum." She added, "He carried a Taser in a sleeve holster and wore heavy rings."

The mark of a professional. Dumarest said, "He was the leader and the others must have been recently hired for the job. From Sorkendo?"

"According to their papers. It's a world lying toward the Zaragoza Cluster. I could find out how far if you want."

But that was academic. The men had come and been defeated; now other problems remained. Had they comrades in space? How long would they wait? Who had hired them and why?

The last question at least he could answer. Who but the Cyclan wanted to hunt him down?

Althea said, "One other thing, Earl. Those ships we saw which vanished-they've come back. Volodya has invited one to land."

It hung in space inching gently toward the port, smooth, sleek, obviously well-maintained. A free-trader which had been adapted and Dumarest could guess why. At his side as he watched it in the screen Volodya said, "The Moira commanded by Captain Pendance. I thought it best to permit him to land and discuss the situation."

"You must have had a long talk."

"Long enough."

"For what? To be conned? Where is the other ship? Waiting out there ready to blast Zabul to scrap if the Moira is threatened?"

"There is no other ship," said Volodya. "It's gone. We deal with Captain Pendance alone."

An illusion and he was a fool if he believed it, but Dumarest sensed that Volodya was acting with calculated intent. Sensed too the augmented aura of power he wore, which was betrayed in his stance, the tilt of his head, the tone of his voice-the trappings of arrogance bora of the knowledge of total command.

Volodya had gained that command while Dumarest had been under sedation and, with a gambler's instinct, Dumarest knew he held a losing hand.

"I think we should greet them," said Volodya as the ship reached the lock. "It would be a courteous gesture and I do not want them in Command. Major!" He looked expressionlessly at Dumarest as Medwin entered and snapped to attention. "Is the lock area sealed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then conduct us to meet our visitors." An illustration of power neatly done. Dumarest looked at the young man now wearing the uniform of Volodya's guards.

"So you're a major now. Congratulations on the promotion."

Medwin stared past him, his face twitching. "Don't feel bad about it." Dumarest adjusted the sling on his left arm. "We all have to look after ourselves and a smart man knows when it's time to change sides. Keep going as you are and, soon, you may even reach the top." He added, looking at Volodya, "That's when your troubles really begin."

"The door," snapped Volodya. "Hurry, Major-our visitors will be waiting."

They stood within the lock area, five of them, four wearing tough, practical clothing, the other dressed in ornate finery. He stepped forward as Volodya approached, lifting a hand heavy with rings, gems catching and reflecting the light in dancing shimmers as, gesturing, he smiled.

"This is a pleasure, sir. Captain Pendance at your service. And this is the gentleman we spoke of? Again my pleasure. I am certain we can all be friends."

Dumarest said, "What do you want?"

"Want?" Pendance glanced at Volodya then back at Dumarest. "Why, just to talk a little. To clear up certain misunderstandings To share a rare and costly wine. Bisdon! The wine for our hosts. Use the special glasses. Made of Surrentian crystal," he explained as one of his men produced a box and took out a bottle. "It touches the lips like a passionate kiss. I bore you?"

"No wine," said Dumarest. "Not for me." Then, speaking to Medwin and the other guards rather than the visitors, he said, "I assume you've come to discuss the matter of compensation and to make apologies for your wanton and unprovoked attack on this world and its people. How many died, Volodya? I'm sure you have the figure. Something like six dozen, wasn't it? And another score badly injured. Call it a hundred casualties. How much a head do you offer, Captain Pendance?"

The figure was exaggerated but the captain couldn't argue and for Volodya to protest would make him appear to be diminishing the importance of the losses.

Pendance said, "Offer? I fail to understand."

"Then start with an apology. At least pretend to regret your men attacked Zabul."

"You assume too much!" For a moment Pendance's facade dropped to reveal a little of the true man beneath. Not a decorated fop but someone who was cruel and vicious and a stranger to mercy. Then he was smiling again and the moment had passed. "I understand your attitude but, believe me, I am innocent. It was the other ship which launched the attack. It was their men you killed-they are dead, are they not? A pity. Under interrogation they would have cleared me of suspicion." Then, to Volodya, "But to get back to the matter at hand, sir. Shall we drink a little wine to seal our bargain?"

"No wine." Volodya looked at Dumarest. "I've no choice," he said. "Surely you can see that?"

"A man always has a choice."

"Not in this case. Captain?"

"The weakness of a man lies in love," said Pendance. He accepted a glass from his aide and lifted it to show the golden fluid it contained. The wine was held in the glass shaped like an upturned hand, which seemed to quiver as if with a life of its own. "Beautiful, is it not? The work of genius and the wine matches the glass. If you knew me better you would realize how high is my regard for you that I offered to share it. To your health, sir." Looking at Volodya he took a sip. Then, to Dumarest, "To your health."