"When young did he travel?"

"Marc? No. Why do you ask?"

"His ideas. He could have learned them on other planets."

"He has never left Sacaweena. His notions are due to lies told by visiting captains and traders who beguiled him when young. A poison which produced wild blooms when, later, he had to manage our affairs." Bulem took a sip of his wine. "But enough of my unfortunate brother. In your travels you must have seen many like him."

"He could be helped."

"Helped," mused Bulem. "An odd word for you to have used. Most would have said 'cured.' Well, we shall see, perhaps the monks could aid him with their skill." He took another sip of wine, a gesture which terminated the subject. "I am pleased to see you, Earl, but may I ask the reason you came?"

"You mentioned it. A matter of debt."

"I see."

"You acknowledge it?"

"I, my Family, and most certainly Ivor are grateful to you for having saved our honor. The boy is young in heart if not in body and, it could be, he takes after Marc in certain ways. That is not important. If you wish me to reassure you of what we owe then consider it done."

"I do," said Dumarest. "But I was thinking of repayment."

"Of course." A veil dropped over Bulem's eyes, adding to his earlier detachment. "I had thought that-well, we are often mistaken. It's a matter of payment, then. The cost of a High passage? Travelers, I understand, are used to such calculations. Would you be satisfied with that?"

"No."

"Double then? Double-I refuse to bargain."

"I want your aid not your money."

"What?"

"I have money," said Dumarest. "With your help I can get more. An arrangement which will benefit us both. Have you a map of the northern sectors?" He waited as the other fetched it. "There!" His finger marked a point, moved on to others. "And here and here!"

Bulem said, "You spoke of an arrangement?"

"These are Kalova's holdings? And these?"

"Those also."

"And here?" Dumarest nodded at the answer. "Do they come with the title or does the Maximus have to earn them?" Facts he knew but wanted Bulem to elaborate. "He has to earn them. Good. That means he can lose them. Can he be forced to sell?"

"The rules apply to all; if two or more holders offer at least twice the recorded value it has to be offered to all. A forced auction. But there are penalties against those forcing the sale of any holding if the price they offered is not reached." Balance and counterbalance; details designed to prevent stagnation. Bulem added, "A forced attack can lead to vicious repercussions."

The weight of the Maximus used to frighten off potential nuisances. Insidious threats to maintain hard-won power.

Dumarest said, "I'm offering you a chance to get rich. With my help you can increase your assets, but I want my fair share. If you aren't interested just say so and I'll leave. If you are I'll show you proof of what I mean."

Bulem poured them both more wine. "Show me."

He sucked in his breath as Dumarest opened the lid of a box he took from his tunic to reveal the massed glow of golden pearls. Their sheen dulled the glow of the wine, seeming brighter because of the clouded sky, the misted air.

"Ardeel," said Dumarest. "I don't have to tell you what these are worth but this is only a sample. Imagine you had a hundred times this amount. A thousand. Such assets would restore your House to its former position." He tilted the box, letting the glow shift as sunlight shifted on the naked steel of a blade. Eye-brightness to catch and hold the attention. "I know just where they are to be found."

"The north?"

"On Kalova's holdings." The lid snapped shut, hiding the lure. "I've traced the breeding path of the vreks and know where and when they deposit their eggs. Kalova thinks he has a monopoly but it can be broken if you-or someone-obtains certain holdings. I'll tell you which if you agree to yield me my share."

Bulem said slowly, "If you have money why ask for more?"

"I'm human." Dumarest thrust the box back into his pocket and rose to his feet. "Such a stupid question means you aren't interested. There's no point in either of us wasting any more time."

"You are too hasty," said Bulem. "Sit, have some more wine, remember we are friends. And let us talk about the size of your share."

It was late when Dumarest returned to Fiona's house to find Vardoon long asleep, the woman herself dressed for bed. She watched with eyes narrowed with jealousy as he bathed and rubbed himself dry.

"You look tired, Earl. Busy?"

"Yes."

"With whom? Lynne? Myra? Some other woman you met at the pool?" Her anger increased as he made no answer. "Are you going to tell me you haven't been seeing them? Talking to them? Drinking with them? Making love to them-you bastard!"

He said flatly, "I did what had to be done. Now do I stay or do I leave?"

To arms more than willing to embrace him; Fiona could guess where they could be found. Guess too at the sniggers which would follow her once he had left her alone. A woman unable to hold even a dependent lover-how the bitches would gloat!

She said, demanding reassurance, "It was just business, Earl? For me?"

"For you."

"Then come to bed!"

To play an old and familiar game and later to lie and review the events of the day. Had he left anything out of his calculations? Made too great a mistake? Bulem had been only one and others had been tempted even as Vardoon had spread the same, glittering lure to his own prospects. Hints dropped, arrangements, pacts and promises made. Bargains struck over wine and in some cases sealed with a kiss. A kiss and more-pride had no place in the need to survive.

He sank deeper into the fog between sleep and waking, drifting into a doze, into a dream, a universe filled with a single golden egg.

One with a surface marred with teeming life; swarms of black motes dulling the shimmering glory, moving, bunching, spreading as if it had been a vicious mold. A parasitic growth which killed the thing which gave it life; demanding more than was available, taking more than could be spared.

And, as he watched, the egg died.

The surface cracked in a multitude of tiny lines, fragmentation which grew, expanding to reveal the sullen glow of inner fires. A red anger which faded to a dark and useless slag, the darkness edging out to dull the gold, to turn it dark in widening striations of mounting ugliness.

Life died with it; the teeming masses shriveling, burning, turning to crisp and char, to drifting ash, to writhing, tormented shapes. Some rising to stream away as if driven by gusting winds. Some dispersed like a cloud of thinning smoke. Some to hang, crying, lost in the dark and empty void.

Crying… crying… crying…

Dumarest jerked fully awake, rearing to sit upright as the thin, demanding tone filled the mirrored chamber. At his side Fiona stirred, came awake with a sudden gasp to fear, golden hair an embracing curtain, her face dimmed in its shadow, pale and trained in the soft light which had bloomed with the alarm. The warning of Kalova's attack.

Chapter Thirteen

Kalova had bathed and perfumed himself and dressed as for a festival in a bright ensemble of lavender and gold touched with emerald and amber. Drugs had banished the last of his fatigue but he didn't need their accompanying euphoria. Sitting, he felt the blood rush through his veins, sparkling in his brain as if the cranium were filled with effervescent bubbles. A warrior geared and readied for battle-and the combat had begun!

He had picked the time well; an hour before dawn when lightning still shredded the northern sky and the ion count was high. A time when most would be asleep and all would be off their guard. The woman especially with her new lover. He could imagine them locked in each other's arms, replete with passion, dulled with satiation, lost in a febrile world of their own. A weakness which was to his advantage and he pressed it home with ruthless determination.