A promise to add to that of more money when they were safely in space and on their way to a new world. One as yet unspecified.

"Earl?" Ysanne, eager for action, was impatient. "Can't we at least figure a way to get the engineer? Maybe then we could make a run for it."

Batrun said, "How?"

"Do we get him? How the hell do I know? Borrow, beg, gamble, lie, steal-all we need is eight hundred engels."

"And to dodge the guns?"

She frowned, thinking, then slapped one hand on her thigh. "Easy. We get the engineer, put the Erce in condition for immediate flight and wait. If asked we can say we're testing the engines. If guards come aboard we'll overpower them and lock them away."

"And when a ship takes off we ride up with it," said Dumarest. "Right?"

"You've thought about it." For a moment she looked like a child robbed of a sweet. "Or maybe you're just damned clever at guessing answers. But it'll work, Earl. Those guns must be radar-controlled and hooked up to a computer guidance system. It'll expect a ship to leave and, by the time it's sorted out the fact that two ships are heading upward, it'll be too late to shoot us down."

A plan born of desperation; one requiring split-second timing, containing too many variables, needing too much cooperation.

"No," said Dumarest. "The odds are too high against us."

"You want to live forever?" She looked at Batrun. "Andre?"

He said, quietly, "We'd need to know the exact time another ship is due to leave. That means getting the help of the captain. How are we to pay for it or trust him if we could? On Krantz betrayal brings reward. And the guards will be cautious. Then, when we seal, the monitors will get suspicious and-"

"It could be done!"

"With time to prepare, maybe." Batrun was diplomatic. "But we don't have the time."

And had less with the passing of each minute. Dumarest took five steps across the salon, turned, walked back to his previous position. Action repeated so as to stimulate the flow of blood through his brain. The pad of his boots created small whispering echoes which seemed to blend with the atmosphere in the compartment; the tension Belkner had left behind. The disappointment Vosper had masked at the loss of a commission.

Time-the essence of a trap now complicated by coincidence. A fortunate chance if it was what it appeared to be. An engineer available, one abandoned by his captain who, luckily for him, could manage without. An unusual circumstance as had been the actual arrest. Taverns frequented by spacers were reluctant to call in the law preferring to handle their own problems. Could the Ypsheim be involved? But even if they had stage-managed the fight could they have handled the courts and the rest of it? The charges and the scene at the Nitscike?

Halting, Dumarest looked at Batrun, waited until the captain had finished taking a pinch of snuff.

"Andre, go into town and find out what you can about Talion. Talk to Chunney. He must know we need an engineer so your interest will be natural. Find out why he's willing to let the man go."

To Ysanne he said, "Go to Vosper. Tell him to get the money from Belkner."

"The deal's on?"

"Yes," said Dumarest. "The deal's on."

Chapter Seven

For a man of imagination it was easy to think of the installation as a living thing; a monster buried deep with a computer for a brain, scanners for eyes, the guns and launchers fists to batter and destroy. One attended by hired men, well-paid, outwardly respectful. All of whom seemed to be taking a sharp interest in his face and forehead.

Nonsense, of course, a product of his secret fears, as Urich was aware. And the fears were triggered by Ava Vasudiva who had spoken for the Ypsheim.

But how had they known?

The question was academic-the fact remained. They knew and, knowing, held his future in their hands.

"Sir!" The technician's salute was crisp. "Your orders?"

"None-I am making a casual inspection."

One conducted with seeming idleness as Urich moved through the control center. Everything was as it should be, the crew alert, the entire installation a smoothly functioning machine. He checked the power sources, the monitors, pausing at the board showing details of ship-conditions; those with clearance, those still under interdict. Soon it would be time for another demonstration; a dummy lifted to be blasted from the sky as a warning to those who doubted the destructive power of Krantz. But later. Now he had other things to worry about.

Eunice, Vruya, Dumarest, the Ypsheim, the Erce.

He looked at it in a screen and felt a sudden flush of anger. Why had it come at the time it had? A ship bearing unwanted complications. To destroy it would be simple; a command and it would be done, the act justified on the grounds of suspicion and expediency. Vruya would understand and could even applaud the action-a man should protect his own.

But there was another way.

The guard at the gate saluted as he reached the field. Within the enclosure small groups of laborers moved in aimless directions as they performed their tasks. Too many for the work at hand but he was too distracted to notice. The Erce lay to one side and he made his way directly toward it. To the ramp and the open port where Dumarest was waiting.

Urich said, bluntly, "We must talk."

"As you wish." Dumarest stepped to one side. "But we'll be more comfortable in the salon."

The table had been set with glasses and a decanter of wine. A thing of cut crystal set beside a tray bearing small, assorted cakes. Cheap things bought from the market but evidence that he had been expected.

"A custom," said Dumarest. "Those who eat and drink together have no cause to be enemies." He poured wine and lifted his own glass. "To health!"

A law of hospitality common on many worlds and one with which Urich was familiar. He sipped and ate a cake and drank a little more wine.

Dumarest said casually, "How is Eunice? The last time I saw her she was-"

"Ill," snapped Urich. "The victim of a delusion."

"-convinced that I had come in answer to her summons." Dumarest ignored the interruption. "Yet it was at Vruya's suggestion that I went to pay my respects. A coincidence, naturally, but I doubt it she would believe that." He added, flatly, "Was it you who taught her to practice witchcraft?"

"No! I-"

"A lonely girl," said Dumarest. "Derided, ignored, wanting love and affection and respect and denied them all because of an accident of birth. It happens. The old, the ugly, the deformed and those who have no talent to back their ambition. Magic provides an easy solution. Incantations, spells and mystic charms. The summoning of invisible powers and the obedience of mighty forces. The conviction of power is the fruit of inadequacy." He poured them both more wine. "But dangerous both to themselves and others."

"How?"

"The delusion must be maintained by success. A summons must be obeyed-no matter what the true reason the person called came because they were called. And a person cursed must suffer and even die. It could be by accident or natural causes or-"

"The curse could be given a helping hand." Urich nodded, understanding. "Poison, a paid assassin, a devoted friend."

"One willing to help maintain the delusion," said Dumarest. "What do you know of Earth?"

He watched the fingers holding the glass, their betraying tension, noted the hesitation before Urich said, "Earth?"

"Eunice told me you knew about it."

"As a world of legend, perhaps. No more."

The home of witchcraft. Of warlocks and sorcerers and strange, magical powers. Of knights and crystal palaces and bizarre monsters. The breeding ground of demons which came to rot flesh and dissolve bone. Of mists which destroyed. Of light brighter than any sun.