"Her? That bitch in my place?"

Zao said, "I give you notice, my lord, that the Cyclan has terminated the services provided on your behalf as agreed. If you accept, my lady, I am now in your employ."

To stand at her side, to take what she had and use his talent to build it into a commanding whole. To make her the largest holder-the Maximus. But what would be his price?

He said, in answer to her blunt question, "The man at your side, my lady. Earl Dumarest."

The display had stilled but color shifted in the mirrors adorning the walls; the shift of scarlet as Zao turned, a gleam from the acolyte, the sheen of lavender and gold, of emerald and amber from Kalova, the dull hues of Vardoon, the gray of his own clothing. Tints which grew by repeated reflection. A frame for the golden mane of the woman's hair, the warm velvet of her skin, the ebon of her gown.

Death in a rounded form.

She wouldn't know it or care if she did. Dumarest had no illusion; the bribe offered was too tempting for her to resist. To become the Maximus! The ultimate achievement of her world.

Vardoon said, frowning, "You want Earl? What the hell for?"

"That is none of your concern. My lady?"

An illusion of dependence was skillfully maintained but Dumarest knew its real worth. One way or another Zao was determined to hold him fast. If he could continue in his position on this world then he would do so but, if he had to kill them all besides Dumarest he would do it without hesitation.

"My lady?"

"A moment," she said. "I need to think. You want Earl- but why?"

"A matter of justice, my lady. He needs to answer for crimes committed against the Cyclan."

That was the explanation given to Kalova, which he hadn't bothered to give Vardoon. But still Fiona hesitated.

"A prisoner? You want to lock him in a cage? I'm not sure I can let you do that. But-" Gold filled the mirrors as she shook her head, her hair falling from the restraining band. "Give me time."

Seconds which could stretch to minutes at the most. Time which must not be wasted. As she began to pace the floor Dumarest checked the room, the people in it.

The chamber was large and made to appear larger by the mirrored walls. Fiona took ten long strides to cover it from one end to another, the long, smooth contours of her thigh flashing through the slit in her skirt. Small tables stood by the walls bearing various ornaments. The furnishings were sparse, some chairs, a couch, a tall vase filled with crystalline blooms. Doors to the other rooms were hidden in reflective deception. A warm, snug, tight and windowless room. One turning into a cell.

Vardoon shifted a little where he stood behind Dumarest and a little to one side. The man would be neutral if not an active ally. The acolyte, watchful, had his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his robe. He was armed, one hand on a gun, ready to defend his master in case of need but he would hesitate before opening fire. Kalova stood with his back to a wall, mouth parted, eyes glazed. The sound of his breathing rose above the soft scuff of the woman's sandals; a ragged gasping with held liquid susurations. A man tottering on the edge of control, stunned by recent events, a victim of rage and fear about to collapse or explode. One of his hands was buried in a pocket, the other hung limp at his side. Fiona?

She turned and walked to the center of the room to pause and look at Dumarest.

"Earl-I'm sorry."

He said urgently, "Fiona, give me a chance. Wait for a few days. A ship's due and I can leave on it."

A plea to gain time and fire the Maximus's rage, so he could utilize to the full his one, single advantage. Zao did not want him dead and would have impressed that on his acolyte. Even so he could be maimed, burned, blinded and rendered helpless. But to determine that would take an extra split second of aim; force an added assessment.

Vardoon rumbled, "After what he's done, girl, it doesn't seem too much to ask."

"You'll be the new Maximus," said Dumarest. "With Zao to help you how can you fail? Kalova will be no problem. He'll be dead before we leave this room. Why leave him to make trouble? A few days, darling. Just give me a few days."

"Dead?" Kalova seemed to be choking. "Dead?"

"Shut up, you old fool!" In imagination she was already the Maximus and he just an irritating nuisance. "Earl, believe me, I'd like to help you, but-" Her shrug was expressive. "A chance like this comes only once."

"So you're willing to sacrifice me," said Dumarest. "Just as you're willing to see Kalova die. He's got to be killed, of course, I can see that. But I can't do you any harm. You don't have to send me to death as you do him. And he is going to die-you know that?"

"Like you said, Earl-there's only one law. To win no matter what the cost." She added, smiling, "And the winner never has to pay."

"You bitch!" Kalova exploded at last. "You'd kill me? Me!"

He lunged from the wall, his hand appearing from his pocket, the laser it held leveling, the guide beam a ruby sword which cut a flaming swath over the black fabric of her gown. To rise and slash at her face. To fall and cut at her breasts, the stomach below. To turn the golden mane of her hair into leaping scarlet and to puddle her thighs with blood as she lay screaming on the soft pile of the carpet.

"Fiona!"

Vardoon dived toward Kalova, his face a bestial mask of animal fury, hands reaching to grab and tear, to twist and break. Even as he called, Dumarest was moving, one hand snatching up a heavy ornament to send it like a bullet into the acolyte's face, to crush his temple and send him staggering backwards, his hand falling with the gun it had held, dead before he touched the floor.

"Hold!" Zao also was armed. The beam from his laser touched the floor and created rising smoke. "Move and I burn your legs!"

Dumarest froze, hand reaching to the knife in his boot. The cyber had moved faster than he'd guessed, anticipating Kalova's explosion, Vardoon's reaction. Now he glanced at the slumped body of the woman, the man crouched beside her, Kalova's body lying with a broken neck to one side. The laser, knocked from his hand, rested at the base of the tall vase of crystalline flowers.

"Lift your hand, Dumarest. Up. Higher." The muzzle of his gun emphasized the command. "I warn you against trying anything foolish. Your speed is well known to the Cyclan and I took accelerating drugs as a precaution. Reach for that knife and I will burn off your hand before you can touch it. Burn out your eyes too, if it becomes necessary. Now lift your other hand. Raise them both well above your head. Now move back against the wall and turn to face it."

He stood with arms raised to wait for the blast of the drug from the hypogun which would render him totally helpless. In the mirror he could see Zao as he produced it to hold in his other hand. A tall, scarlet shape reflected in the mirror, multiplied by added reflections from the mirrors to either side.

Mirrors!

Dumarest moved, throwing himself to one side, feeling the heat as the laser seared his thigh. Plastic burned to reveal the protective mesh beneath. A fraction of time and then the beam, reflected from the mirror, hit another, a third and bounced back toward its source. As the scarlet robe burst into flame Dumarest threw his knife.

It lanced through the air, a glittering extension of his arm, to reach the skull-like face, an eye, to bury its point deep into the brain. As Zao fell, Dumarest joined Vardoon at the woman's side.

"Earl!" The laser had slashed her face, blinding an eye, ruining the nose, the cheek, the edge of her jaw, but the untouched mouth managed to smile. "Forgive me, darling? Please forgive me."

"She's dying," said Vardoon. "Dying!"

The face could be healed, the breasts, but the beam had seared too deeply into her stomach. The spleen was damaged, the liver, the kidneys and spine. The intestines had been cut-only the cauterizing effect of the laser which sealed as it cut had enabled her to live so long.