dart which killed Angado was fired from the ring worn by his uncle, as the evidence makes plain.'
'Evidence can be manufactured.'
'My lady?'
She was brutal in her curtness. 'Use your brains, man. Perotto's body showed extensive bruising. Injuries which could have been caused by savage blows. He could have been beaten helpless, his ring used against Angado and then turned on himself. Can you deny the possibility?'
'No, but where is the motive?'
'Did he need one? Perhaps Dumarest had outstayed his welcome. He could have thought to use blackmail against Angado and Perotto challenged him. He may have tried to steal.' She made an impatient gesture. 'Do the details matter? Interrogation would have revealed the truth but you failed to hold him. More proof of your inadequacy.'
Vaclav said, stiffly, 'He was in a raft, my lady. It headed into the sky and was gone long before the guardians learned of the situation. I put out a routine trace but nothing was found. It could be anywhere.'
'Find it. Use every man and machine you have. I want it located. The raft and the man who used it. Understand?'
'I'll do my best.'
'You'll do more than that-you'll find Dumarest.' She drew in her breath then continued, in a milder tone, 'As a girl I studied logic. You've supplied the facts as to what was found in that room and I've given an explanation to account for them. One you don't seem to like. Let's look at your idea. Angado killed by a dart from Perotto's ring. A fact beyond dispute. But what then? Suicide?'
'A possibility, my lady.'
'Rubbish! If you believe that, you're a bigger fool than I take you for. With Angado dead Perotto had everything to live for.' Her voice rose a little, the former mildness forgotten. 'He was scum and may have deserved to die but he was of the Karroum and the one who took his life will pay. I swear it!'
* * *
The place held the stench she had hated since childhood; an odor of fear, pain, regret, terror. One compounded by the smell of antiseptics, bandages, drips, the sterilizing fluids used to treat the bedding and gowns. Like a prison, a hospital was a world unto itself where values changed and small things took on a tremendous import. As small officials regarded themselves as greater than they were.
'Aside!' The official wilted beneath her glare. 'Where can I find Cyber Avro?'
'My lady.' He didn't know her but her arrogance betrayed her class. 'Please, my lady, if you will be so good as to wait.' He gestured with the hand with which he had tried to bar her progress, pointing at a waiting room fitted with hard chairs, dusty walls, faded prints of scenes and men long dead. 'I will summon Doctor Kooga.'
'You will send him to me,' she corrected. 'Now direct me to the cyber.'
He lay on a bed in a room containing the most expensive equipment the hospital could provide. As the room held the most comfort; things lost on the patient, who rested supine, eyes closed, his head swathed in an elaborate dressing. Beneath the covers his body looked like that of a man in the last stages of deprivation; the stomach concave, the torso a slight mound, the thighs like sticks, the arms resting above the material the same. What she could see of the face reminded her of a skull.
'My lady, I beg you!' Vaclav, beside her, betrayed the conflict which tore at his equanimity. 'This is madness! He is of the Cyclan!'
'He was in the room.'
'True, but he saw nothing. He was almost comatose when we found him and needed emergency treatment. All this,' his gesture embraced the room, the equipment, 'is at the order of the Cyclan who have guaranteed to meet every expense. Kooga dropped all other cases to concentrate on this. He is working in close collaboration with Cyclan physicians.' He added, as if in justification, 'They communicate by radio. If they were present we wouldn't have this problem.'
Nor the witness and Mirza drew in her breath as she thought about it. Vaclav had said nothing, her own intelligence had directed her to the hospital, and she could guess why. The Cyclan with its awesome power cast a wide shadow, working its will even when none of its servants were present. If another cyber had been present the room would have been sealed and guarded against any unauthorized entry. Had Avro's aides survived the accident at the falls the same. But they had died, as all Avro's companions had died, to leave him helpless and alone.
'They will be here soon,' said Vaclav as if reading her thoughts. 'A special ship is carrying Cyclan physicians to Lychen. They will take over. But, my lady, Avro must be alive when they do.'
A threat implied with a hint. One backed by the reputation of the organization which spanned the known galaxy. Obey or pay for disobedience. Pay in the subtle destruction of the economy, the ruin of established Houses, the blasting of ambition and hope. If Avro died too soon Lychen would be ruined.
But Avro could tell her what she needed to know.
'He saw,' she said. 'He was there. He had to be. He knows how Angado died and who killed Perotto.'
'He was helpless. Unaware.'
'When you discovered him, yes, but earlier?' Mirza shook her head. 'I doubt it. And why was he present at all? Or the woman? No. There are too many questions left unanswered. He will answer them.'
Vaclav caught her arm as she stepped toward the bed. He was sweating, fear overriding the inherent danger of the act. To her the contact of his hand was an insult, an offense against her pride.
'My lady! For God's sake! A touch could kill him!'
The truth and she recognized it and she halted to look down at the skull-like features. A fool, she thought dispassionately. A man who had become a living, thinking machine. One who regarded food as fuel for his body and fat as unwanted surplus. An attitude which robbed him of needed reserves so that in times of strain he drew on basic needs and when, as now, he needed the energy to aid healing, it was not available.
Yet a clever man despite the stupidity. One who could take a handful of facts and extrapolate from them to formulate the logical outcome of any sequence of events. The power of the Cyclan; to guide those who hired their services and to assure success. To become so indispensable that they and not those who used them became the real rulers of worlds, the real dictators of policy. The power behind the throne, unrecognized, unassailable, undefeatable-in time they would own everything.
But not yet and never her.
'Please, my lady!'
Vaclav's hand fell from her arm as again she stepped toward the bed, but she made no effort to touch the patient, looking, instead, at the roll of record paper spilling from a monitoring machine at his side. She frowned in puzzlement at the patterns, checking the machine before again studying the paper.
A push-button was set in an oblong of plastic close to Avro's limp hand. She thrust her thumb against it, held it down until a nurse came running into the room.
'What-' The girl stared, eyes wide with shock. 'You! What are you doing here? This room-'
'I ordered Kooga to meet me here.' Mirza cut short the protest. 'Where is he?'
'Doctor Kooga is off-duty. Resting. He-'
'Get him up and get him here. Fast!' The snap in her voice made the nurse jump. 'Move, damn you! Get him!'
'But you shouldn't be here. It isn't allowed. The regulations-' Flustered, the girl turned toward the door, relaxed as she saw the man filling the opening. 'This is Doctor Kooga.'
* * *
He was tall, slim, a face masked by the need to maintain detachment, one too used to the sight of pain. A man younger than Vaclav, who was a decade younger than herself. His voice, while calm, held the tone of one accustomed to obedience.
'Why are you here, nurse?'
'The bell summoned me, sir. When I arrived these people were present.'
'Thank you. You may go.' He waited until her footsteps had faded down the passage. 'Now I suggest we have
