touch would be sufficient. I can supply such a device capable of both means of execution.”
“You’re wasting your time,” said the steward. “He can’t afford it. Anyway, what would he want with poison? He’s just a boy.”
“No,” said the apothecary softly. “In that you are mistaken. Your companion is not a boy. He is a young man. One, I would wager, who has seen more than most. Done more than most. Would you swear I am wrong?” Again he shrugged at the lack of an answer. “Well, if I have nothing he can use, how can I serve you?” He squinted at the paper Dorph slapped down before him. “It seems, my friend, you are in trouble.”
“Never mind that. Can you supply what I need?”
“Be patient.” Again the apothecary studied the list.
“The one coughing blood-how long has the condition lasted?”
“Did I say someone was coughing blood?”
“You ask for a drug designed to combat just such a condition. Naturally, it could have many causes, some relatively harmless. Others could be of far greater concern.”
The apothecary tapped a finger on the list. “Now this item. Slowtime, expensive but-”
“I didn’t come for a lecture,” snapped Dorph. “Can you give me what’s listed? If not I’ll go somewhere else.”
“To the field infirmary, perhaps?” The apothecary’s smile held nothing of humor. “To a registered physician? An officially authorized pharmacy? If so do not let me detain you.” He waited then, “No? Then let us get down to business. You have money? These items are not cheap.”
But the price would include more than the product; silence gained and anonymity provided. Dumarest wondered at the need. Before he could ask the steward snarled his impatience.
“Look at that rubbish.” He gestured at the assembled containers. “Did you believe what he told you?”
“About the eyes and ears?”
“They are fungi and galls. The rest a collection of seeds, pods, roots, fruits, twigs-hell, you name it. Stuff the ignorant believe will bring health and cure their ills.”
“Like those leeches?” Dumarest pointed to a jar in which slender shapes drifted in a murky fluid. “Those maggots?”
Both, he had learned, of worth in the treatment of wounds and a variety of ailments. Despite appearances the apothecary had a knowledge of medicine. Dorph must have known that. But why had he chosen to deal with such a man?
A question unanswered as he returned bearing a parcel.
Dorph checked the contents. Money changed hands. Bolts grated as the door slammed shut behind them.
“Here.” Dorph handed Dumarest the package. “Let’s get back to the ship.”
Night had fallen, clouds shielding the stars, the sky a pattern of reflected light from the distant smelters. On all sides patches of brilliance illuminated the shuttered buildings, lanterns set behind panes of glass glowing in a broad spectrum of color. Shapes moved across them, the figures of pedestrians, cloaked, hooded, some masked against the acrid wind. Coughs merged with the rasp of boots, the tapping of canes.
“Be careful.” Dorph slowed as they neared the glow of illumination from the field, head moving as his eyes quested the dimness. “There could be thieves. We don’t want to be robbed. Killed, even.”
“So close to the field?”
“What’s to stop them?”
“The guards-”
“Are tough when in the company of their own kind. Alone they watch their skin, but you never see them alone.” The steward halted. “This is close enough. You can make your own way from here. Go down that street, turn right at the end, left at the next turn and the field will lie directly ahead. Get to the ship and hand over the parcel. If the others aren’t there Raistar will manage.”
“What about you?”
“That’s my business.”
“You’re the steward,” said Dumarest. “You should conduct any medication. It isn’t Raistar’s job.”
Dorph said, thickly, “Listen, boy! I’ve had enough of your mouth. Just remember who you are and do as you’re told.”
He added, as Dumarest drew in his breath, “If you want to keep riding with us just do as I say. Deliver the parcel. I’ve other things to do.”
He vanished into the writhing mist and Dumarest resisted the urge to follow him. The man had never been a friend and now he’d shown his true colors. Later he would decide what to do about it. Now he had the drugs to deliver and a life to save.
A shadow loomed before him as he neared the gate. A thick arm clamped his chest and a hand rose to cover his mouth.
“Don’t move! Don’t make a noise!”
Zander. Dumarest froze in obedience. A hand tore the cap from his head.
“Earl? Where’s Dorph?” The engineer snarled as Dumarest told him. “Walked away? Threatened you? Took off while he was safe. The bastard! He won’t be safe for long!”
“What’s happening? Zander! Tell me!”
“Something you won’t like hearing.” The engineer loosened his grasp and Dumarest turned to face him. The man’s face was drawn, marred by an ugly bruise on the left cheek. A trail of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s happened? You’ve been in a fight.”
“Did you see the cyber?”
“Yes. On the way out.”
“With Dorph.” Zander’s voice thickened. “The bastard! It all adds up. He was in a hurry, right? Eager to go about his own business?”
“Yes.”
“He would be. Damn him! He-” The engineer snarled his impatience as a pair of guards sauntered towards them. “This is no place to talk. Let’s find somewhere private.”
A tavern with a low roof and thick, acrid, smoke-filled air. A rough place with furniture to match. One catering to field-workers, transients, those with too much time and too little money. A slattern bought wine and stained beakers. She waited to be paid, studying them both before moving away to serve others.
“Here!” Zander poured wine and pushed a beaker towards Dumarest. “Pick it up. Pretend to drink. That slut is still watching.” As Dumarest obeyed, the engineer continued, “Things have turned bad. The captain’s dead, Raistar too. I left them both, after you’d gone and tried to find Jesso. I heard talk and-”
“The captain is dead?”
“As I told you.” Zander gulped some of his wine. “Bazan, Raistar and from what I heard you can add Jesso to the list. They caught up with us. Someone helped them to do it.”
Dumarest thought of the captain and felt an aching sense of loss.
“How?” he said. “Why?”
“Listen,” said Zander, “and try to understand. When you found us we were somewhere we shouldn’t have been. We’d taken a gamble on making a quick profit and lost. It was a mistake. Now we are paying for it.”
Dumarest said, “You stole the ship?”
“You could call it that.” Zander drank more wine. “We decided to operate as a free-trader and managed to scrape a living by carrying cheap cargos for low profit. We were living on borrowed time.” Again he gulped at the wine. “Taste the stuff,” he urged. “That bitch is still watching. I don’t want her to get too curious.”
The wine was rough, raw, thick with floating particles. Dumarest spat the little he had taken back into the beaker.
“Now the owners have caught up?”
“Someone has. After I’d heard about Jesso I returned to the ship. A stranger was waiting. He tried to kill me.” Zander touched his cheek, coughed, looked at the blood staining his hand. “He had taken care of the captain and Raistar, maybe Jesso too. The entire crew gone aside from me and Dorph.”
“And me?”
