"Like hell I am!" She swayed and almost fell; then, from the support of Dumarest's arm, said, "Did you have to cut him? Brad seemed decent to me."

"Would he have let you go otherwise?"

"No, I guess not." With a sudden reversal of emotion she giggled. "He was right about the way you moved, though. God, I bet he was surprised. And Shiro-that mug hit him like a bomb. He'll have a hell of an ache when he wakes up."

"So will you unless you get these down." Dumarest pushed the pills into her mouth, followed them with water, holding her lips closed with the pressure of his hand, then he relaxed as she swallowed. "Better?"

"I will be."

"What made you do it? Why run?"

"Do you care?" Then, as he made no answer, she said, "I was trying to help and you made me feel like dirt. Then, later, I heard about what happened in the Mart. That bitch you rescued. The high-born slut who took you back home so as to give you your reward." Her hand rose to touch his bitten mouth. "I see she was generous."

"You see all she gave."

"A disappointment. You hoped for more?"

"Of course."

"Earl-"

"Not what you're thinking." He touched the wound sharp teeth had made. "The gratitude of princes-I hope to collect."

"From her?"

"From Vruya. The head of her Family."

She could be willing to pay well for services rendered.

Ysanne looked at Dumarest, smiling, warmed by the sudden realization of his true motives. Warmed too by the fact that he had come looking for her, had fought for her-and won.

"Cash," she said. "Money to escape this damned trap we're in. But you won't be able to see him yet, Earl." Her eyes strayed to the bunk, the ruined pillow. "We've time-"

"Yes," he said. "We've plenty of time."

Vruya bore the likeness of the doll, his thin features pinched, sunken, dominated by the beak of his nose, the burning intensity of his eyes.

"Dumarest," he said. "You are in trouble."

"Is that why you sent for me, my lord?" Guards had come to the Erce to collect him. But he was not a prisoner.

"An odd reply-another man would have asked what trouble he was in. But Eunice told me you would be unusual. Unusual and, she said, interesting."

Dumarest said nothing, looking around the room. It was large, high, the walls bright with paintings. Small reflections glimmered from the polished wood of the floor and, through high windows, shone the warm brightness of the midday sun.

"Some wine?" Vruya gestured toward a table bearing bottles and glasses. "Help yourself."

"And, for you, my lord?"

"Some of the lavender. It comes from Amnytor, a world close to the Brannhan Rift. You know it?"

Dumarest shook his head, pouring two glasses full of the lavender fluid. If Vruya had chosen it it should be safe-an elementary precaution which the old man recognized.

"Your health!" Vruya added dryly, "You have nothing to fear. If you thought otherwise why try to see me?"

An audience refused. Dumarest said, "I was concerned about the health of Eunice."

"So why not visit her?" Vruya supplied the answer. "A matter of caution. You have had experience with Family culture before. One wrong word, a wrong look, and some fool with inflated ideas would scream 'insult'! Am I right?"

"She is to be married, my lord."

"Yes." Vruya looked at his wine. "You still haven't asked me about the nature of the trouble you're in. I shall tell you. The owner of the mutant you killed demands recompense. How do you suggest I determine the situation?"

"The thing broke free from its chains. Two men were hurt."

"Killed," corrected Vruya. "But they were of the Ypsheim."

And so didn't count-his tone made that clear. As his eyes told Dumarest that this was some form of a test. As, perhaps, was the whole interview.

"If I hadn't acted, Eunice would have died." A fact Dumarest wanted to make clear. "As it was she suffered fear and trepidation, was put to medical expense, and so should be recompensed. And I should be paid for having ended a threat."

"No one asked you to do that."

"True, there was no commission." Dumarest shrugged. "The onus rests with the owner of the mutant."

"He is of the Quelen and was absent at the time."

"And ordered the thing to be chained. The chains proved inadequate."

"They were supplied by a merchant." Vruya met Dumarest's eyes. "The merchant?"

"Is he of the Quelen? No?" Dumarest sipped at his wine. "There we have the answer, my lord. A stern reprimand, a fine, and all are satisfied. Of course some would say he should be sentenced to the Wheel, but who is to mourn a dead mutant?"

"And to show mercy is the prerogative of authority." Vruya nodded, tasting his wine, thin fingers supporting the fragile crystal of his glass. "Eunice was right, Earl. You are a man of unsuspected ability."

The familiarity eased the tension and Dumarest sensed that he had passed the test if test it had been. Certainly this was the initial stage and he wondered what it had all been about.

"Eunice," said Vruya suddenly. "Tell me what you think of her."

"A charming young woman who-"

"There is no need to be diplomatic. I would appreciate the truth."

If so he was unique. Dumarest said, carefully, "I can only give my impression. She's young in attitude and outlook and has a deep affection for you and others of her family. A little spoiled, perhaps, but who in her position is not?"

"Urich? What of him?"

"We barely spoke. Older, more mature and far more serious. He would not take marriage lightly."

"Ambitious?"

Dumarest sipped at his wine, gaining time to think. The man was only a captain but in such a society none outside the actual ruling class could hope for high position. Yet he was old and had waited too long if he had the normal spur of desire for gain.

Lowering his glass he said, "Not overwhelmingly so. He seems too vulnerable-a truly ambitious man must be touched with ruthless self-interest. Patient, yes, and hopeful-once married he will be content."

"A good guess if you are guessing. But don't underestimate him. Once Urich marries Eunice he will be of the Quelen. He will become a Marshal of the Yekatania. He will share a fine house with a high tower. Once he fathers children he will be respected, rich and secure." Vruya moved to a desk, set down his glass and began to toy with a carved image lying on the surface. Without change of tone he said, "If you were he and Eunice turned toward another man what would you do?"

"Fight."

That was the answer Vruya wanted to hear. "Yes," he said. "Fight. As our forefathers did in their early days on Krantz. Fighting the elements, the environment, each other when the need arose." The small image fell to clatter on the desk. "The basic rule of life-only the strongest deserve to survive."

And, because they survived, they were the strongest.

Dumarest said, "Strength is relative, my lord. The coward who runs lives to breed while the brave stand and die."

"Meaning?"

"We are talking of survival-not heroics."

"But you were heroic in the Mart. You moved in to kill while others stood in shocked helplessness. Risking your life to save-" He broke off, eyes narrowing, suddenly shrewd. "Fast," he mused. "I have received the reports. You moved like the wind and the mutant had its back toward you. Had its hands wrapped around Eunice's throat. One blow and the thing was done."

"And Eunice lived, my lord."

"True." Vruya blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it of fog. "What matter the means if the end is achieved? Some would say that you saw an opportunity, assessed the risk, acted from motives of self-interest. That may be so-but Eunice lives when she could have died. And, had she died…"

His voice trailed into silence as Vruya moved about the chamber touching a vase filled with delicate blooms of stained crystal, a small statuette, a block of clear plastic containing the swirling hues of a rainbow. A man seeking reassurance in familiar things.