“But why did Prince Jirzyn order our discarnation?” Dalla wanted to know. “Was it to blame the Statisticalists with it?”
Sarnax, about to answer, broke off suddenly and began firing at the opening of the ascent tube with a hunting pistol.
“I got him,” he said, in a pleased tone. “That was Erarno; he was always playing tricks with the tubes, climbing down against negative gravity and up against positive gravity. His body will float up to the top—Why, Lady Dallona, that was only part of it. You didn’t hear about the big scandal, on the newscast, then?”
“We didn’t have it on. What scandal?”
Sarnax laughed. “Oh, the very father and family-head of all scandals! You ought to know about it, because you started it; that’s why Prince Jirzyn wants you out of the body—You devised a process by which people could give themselves memory-recalls of previous reincarnations, didn’t you? And distributed apparatus to do it with? And gave one set to young Tarnov, the son of Lord Tirzov of Fastor?”
Dalla nodded. Sarnax continued:
“Well, last evening, Tarnov of Fastor used his recall outfit, and what do you think? It seems that thirty years ago, in his last reincarnation, he was Jirzid of Starpha, Jirzyn’s older brother. Jirzid was betrothed to the Lady Annitra of Zabna. Well, his younger brother was carrying on a clandestine affair with the Lady Annitra, and he also wanted the title of Prince and family-head of Starpha. So he bribed this fellow Tarnod, whom I had the pleasure of discarnating, and who was an underservant here at the hunting lodge. Between them, they shot Jirzid during a boar hunt. An accident, of course. So Jirzyn married the Lady Annitra, and when old Prince Jarnid, his father, discarnated a year later, he succeeded to the title. And immediately, Tarnod was made head gamekeeper here.”
“What did I tell you, Lord Virzal? I knew that son of a zortan had something on Jirzyn of Starpha!” Dirzed exclaimed. “A nice family, this of Starpha!”
“Well, that’s not the end of it,” Sarnax continued. “This morning, Tarnov of Fastor, late Jirzid of Starpha, went before the High Court of Estates and entered suit to change his name to Jirzid of Starpha and laid claim to the title of Starpha family-head. The case has just been entered, so there’s been no hearing, but there’s the blazes of an argument among all the nobles about it—some are claiming that the individuality doesn’t change from one reincarnation to the next, and others claiming that property and titles should pass along the line of physical descent, no matter what individuality has reincarnated into what body. They’re the ones who want the Lady Dallona discarnated and her discoveries suppressed. And there’s talk about revising the entire system of estate-ownership and estate-inheritance. Oh, it’s an utter obscenity of a business!”
“This,” Verkan Vall told Dalla, “is something we will not emphasize when we get home.” That was as close as he dared come to it, but she caught his meaning. The working of major changes in outtime social structures was not viewed with approval by the Paratime Commission on the First Level. “If we get home,” he added. Then an idea occurred to him.
“Dirzed, Sarnax; this place must have been used by the leaders of the Volitionalists for top-level conferences. Is there a secret passage anywhere?”
Sarnax shook his head. “Not from here. There is one, on the floor above, but they control it. And even if there were one down here, they would be guarding the outlet.”
“That’s what I was counting on. I’d hoped to simulate an escape that way, and then make a rush up the regular tubes.” Verkan Vall shrugged. “I suppose Marnik’s our only chance. I hope he got away safely.”
“He was going for help? I was surprised that an Assassin would desert his client; I should have thought of that,” Sarnax said. “Well, even if he got down carnate, and if Girzad didn’t catch him, he’d still be afoot ten miles from the nearest city unit. That gives us a little chance—about one in a thousand.”
“Is there any way they can get at us, except by those tubes?” Dalla asked.
“They could cut a hole in the floor, or burn one through,” Sarnax replied. “They have plenty of thermite. They could detonate a charge of explosives over our heads, or clear out of the dome and drop one down the well. They could use lethal gas or radio-dust, but their Assassins wouldn’t permit such illegal methods. Or they could shoot sleep-gas down at us, and then come down and cut our throats at their leisure.”
“We’ll have to get out of this room, then,” Verkan Vall decided. “They know we’ve barricaded ourselves in here; this is where they’ll attack. So we’ll patrol the perimeter of the well; we’ll be out of danger from above if we keep close to the wall. And we’ll inspect all the rooms on this floor for evidence of cutting through from above.”
Sarnax nodded. “That’s sense, Lord Virzal. How about the lifter tubes?”
“We’ll have to barricade them. Sarnax, you and Dirzed know the layout of this place better than the Lady Dallona or I; suppose you two check the rooms, while we cover the tubes and the well,” Verkan Vall directed. “Come on, now.”
They pushed the door wide-open and went out past the cabinet. Hugging the wall, they began a slow circuit of the well, Verkan Vall in the lead with the submachine-gun, then Sarnax and Dirzed, the former with a heavy boar-rifle and the latter with a hunting pistol in each hand, and Hadron Dalla brought up in the rear with her rifle. It was she who noticed a movement along the rim of the balcony above and snapped a shot at it; there was a crash above, and a shower of glass and plastic and metal fragments rattled on the pavement of the court. Somebody had been trying to lower
