A question Dumarest ignored as he looked around. At the generator the two figures remained as when he had first seen them. The noises he had heard came from a recorder, which fell silent as Pendance's companion touched a switch. Another he remembered from Zabul-how many more would there be?

"If you are hoping for the intervention of your steward then forget him." Pendance's voice held amusement. "Show him, Brice."

The man lifted a cover which rested close to the generator. Dumarest had thought it covered discarded components. Beneath it lay a huddled shape-Shandhar lying in the embrace of death, a small hole burned between his eyes.

"Was that necessary?"

Pendance shrugged. "Necessary? No. But he served as a convenient example to convince the others of the futility of resistance. And what need do I have for a steward? Steady, my dear!" His fingers dug deeper into the flesh beneath the beaded leather. "That's better. Just relax. Your turn will come soon enough."

"You followed us," said Dumarest. "How?"

"How could you think that I wouldn't?" For a moment naked fury blazed in the opaque eyes. "To destroy my men and steal my ship-did you think it would be forgotten? For that alone I would have hunted you as long as life remained. Add the fortune you will bring me from the Cyclan and my own interests and you need ask no more." For a moment he savored his triumph then condescended to explain. "A detector in the control room was activated when you left Zabul. I managed to convince the ruler of that delightful world that it would be in his best interests to cooperate with me to the extent of lending me a ship so as to rescue those left in the ship you attacked. A neat trick and you are to be congratulated-the damage was greater than you could have guessed. However, here we are and all debts can be paid."

As Shandhar had paid. Dumarest glanced at him then at the other two. They knelt like statues, the prisoners of quick time. Seeing them, hearing the recording, Ysanne had lost her caution and run into the trap. Now there seemed no escape.

"The knife," said Pendance. "The one in your boot. A small detail, I know, but I'd prefer it to be settled. Remove it, Brice, and bring it to me." He smiled as, freeing Ysanne, he took the blade and examined it. "A good weapon, my friend. It holds many secrets. I think I shall keep it as a souvenir."

As he tucked it beneath his blouse Dumarest said, "You've a good hand, Captain, but not the best. I hold the aces."

"What do you mean?"

"The Cyclan want me alive and unharmed. Kill me and you get nothing." He paused, then asked casually, "I assume you are working for a cyber? You did mention a reward."

"A large one."

"But not large enough. Throw in with me and I can guarantee you triple what they offered."

"Words."

"The truth. Check with the cyber. Where is he? Was he killed?"

"Hurt, but not killed. I left him on Zabul." The gun in Pendance's hand moved a little as it pointed at Dumarest. "And you won't be killed. How would you like a new job, Ysanne? That of acting as a nurse to your hero. You'll have to feed him and wipe his mouth because he'll have no hands. And you'll have to move him about because he'll have no feet. No legs either. No arms." His voice deepened into a snarl. "At this moment I think it would be worth killing him for the sheer pleasure of it. Can you guess at what he's done to my reputation? I'd like to burn him inch by inch-but no matter. We must not let personal irritations stand in the way of vast profits. Triple, you say?"

"At least." Dumarest took one step forward. "Let me tell you about it. It's a-"

The lift of the gun checked him as he took another step. Pendance said, "Don't make the stupid mistake of thinking me an amateur, my friend. And don't think I'm squeamish. I'd as soon deliver you a cripple as not. To be frank it would be easier and I'm a man who has a liking for simple things. Now, you were saying?"

"I'm important to the Cyclan, have you ever wondered why? Think about it for a while. If you were to hold out they would raise their offer, but why take a part when you could gain a quarter? Easy money, Captain, and just waiting to be collected. I've the knowledge and we have a ship and crew. Two ships-yours is on the field?"

"Keep talking."

He was being sadistic and Dumarest knew it; letting hope flower so as to increase the hurt when he cut it down. This warped sense of pleasure had led him to become a slaver, to enjoy what he did. Now he listened, apparently interested, as Dumarest spun a tale of a lost mine on an isolated world, filled with gems of price and with rare minerals lying in eroded veins awaiting collection.

"All this wealth," he said when Dumarest fell silent. "And you didn't bother to pick it up?"

"For another?" Dumarest shrugged. "Why make anyone rich when you can have it all. A quarter, Captain, all for yourself."

"A nice thought and a generous offer," admitted Pendance. "But why should the Cyclan want a mine? The thought intrigues me. A half, you say?"

"A quarter-there are others to be considered. Isn't that so, Ysanne?"

She nodded, barely understanding what was going on.

"Three of us," said Dumarest. "Me, my woman and-" He moved to stand beside her, reaching out, one hand patting her stomach. "-the one to come. A quarter is all I can offer."

A child? Pendance stared at the woman then at Dumarest. Where he stood to one side, Brice licked his lips at the picture of wealth he had heard painted.

"We could try it, Captain," he urged. "Where's the harm in trying?"

"None at all," said Dumarest. "What have you to lose? And we'll count you in. Five shares and an equal split. One each for you two. One for Ysanne. One for me and the other-" Again he patted the woman's stomach, his hand rising toward the buckle, the knife it contained. "A deal?"

He moved without waiting for an answer, turning, the short, wicked blade gleaming as he drew it free; his left hand knocked up Pendance's right, the gun it held, the knife following the line of forearm and bicep to bury itself in the armpit.

To be twisted and withdrawn in a fountain of arterial blood. The stab once more. To rise bathed in carmine, to be thrown. To send Brice to join his dead captain on the floor.

"Here." Batrun dropped something small and round on the table in the salon. "The detector. Jud found it tucked in an air vent. Shall I destroy it?"

"No." Dumarest touched it with a finger, feeling the tacky adhesiveness of its surface. "We'll cycle it through the lock when we're in space." With Pendance and Brice now in sacs. If their ship should follow the signal it would find only the dead. A false trail which would yield valuable time.

The captain said, "About a cargo. I can get us a load-"

"No cargo," snapped Dumarest. "Not from Jourdan. We leave empty."

"Heading for nowhere with nothing in the hold." Batrun shrugged and looked at Ysanne as she entered the salon. "See a stubborn man. Maybe you should see what you can do with him."

"I know what to do with him." She sat as the captain left, one hand reaching out to rest warm fingers on Dumarest's own. "I'd like to give him everything a man could want," she said softly. "The home of his dreams and children to fill it. In the meantime I'll settle for what I can get. For as long as I can get it." Her fingers tightened. "More trouble, Earl?"

"No."

"Just says we can leave in an hour. No one's going to look for Pendance and his man. So why not take a cargo?"

"No cargo," he said. "And we'll change the name of the ship as soon as we can. Call it-" he broke off, then shrugged. "Call it what you like."

"The Erce." She didn't hesitate. "Andre likes the name and so do I. This time you don't overrule us, Earl. The Erce-it could bring us luck."