reports the acolyte had left; details of ships and their complements, but none carried the names of either the woman or Dumarest. An elementary precaution.
'She sold her furs,' said Hagen. 'I checked. Took her jewels and all the money she had. Even borrowed on my credit and from my crew. They expect me to pay them. I'll have to see them square even if I have to sell that recording to do it.' A hint, one he clumsily emphasized. 'It's all I have, you understand. All I've got new.'
Clarge said, 'Tell me more about the woman. Where did you meet her? When? On which worlds have you operated? Has she any idiosyncrasies? Particular likes or dislikes? Allergies? Habits?' He listened then summoned the acolyte to show his visitor out.
Hagen lingered at the door. 'You'll think about my problems? I mean-'
'You will be rewarded.'
He, his crew, all who had knowledge of the recording, but it would be a reward they would not appreciate. An accident, an infection, sudden and unexpected death-the Cyclan settled its bills in more ways than one.
Alone Clarge dismissed the matter from his mind as he concentrated on things of greater importance. The woman had accumulated money, probably on Dumarest's advice, and he had cash of his own now augmented by that won with the trophy. Money enough and to spare, money to waste, to burn. Certainly enough to have left false trails.
Had they traveled together or apart?
On which ship?
Heading where?
Questions the cyber pondered as he sat at the desk oblivious to the snow which now hurtled against the window. The probability that they were traveling together was high, in the region of eighty-nine percent; she would not have left without him and would have seen no point in a later rendezvous. On which vessel? Three had left before his own ship had landed; two close together; the last only recently. Dumarest would not have waited. The
Would Dumarest abandon the woman once they had landed?
A probability of high order-but his lead was small, his destination known and he could not be certain he was being followed. Even when dying, Indart had held his tongue.
The woman, Clarge decided. Find the woman and Dumarest would be close.
* * *
There was fire beneath the ice; a burning, hungry demand which left them both exhausted. He had first known such on Erkalt, then on the vessel in which they had traveled, now again here on Oetzer. Rising, Dumarest looked down at her where she sprawled on the bed. Even in sleep Karlene was beautiful, the planes of her face bearing an odd, detached serenity, enhanced by her pallor, the gleaming mass of her hair.
Silver repeated on her nails, her lashes, the intricate tattoo above her left breast. A design almost invisible against the flesh, revealed in gleams and shimmers when she moved and light reflected from the metallic ink buried beneath her skin. The pattern of a flower; slender petals set around a circular center, the whole adorned with curlicues-twelve petals and a circular area quartered by two crossed lines.
A symbol Dumarest had seen before.
'Darling!' She woke as he touched the tattoo. 'I've had the most wonderful dream.'
'Of home?'
'Of you.' Her arms rose to embrace him, pulled him close. 'Darling-hold me!'
She sighed contentedly as he obeyed, cradling her head on his shoulder, naked flesh glowing in the diffused sunlight beyond the window of their room. The chamber was large, set with a wide bed and adorned with objects of price. One soft with luxury, scented with delicate odors from cooled and perfumed air that wafted through fretted grills.
The Hotel Brisse was noted for its comfort.
He said, 'It's time I was moving. Do you want to sleep longer or-?'
'I'll join you in the shower.'
She stood before him beneath the aromatic spray, her fingers touching his torso, following the thin lines of old scars. Brands earned in a hard school where to be slow or weak was to be dead.
'Did it hurt, Earl? When these were made, I mean.'
'Did that?' He touched her tattoo.
'I don't know. I can't remember.' As before, she dismissed the subject. 'But a needle isn't a knife and doesn't cut as deep.' Her fingers lingered on his body. 'Darling, you must never fight again. Promise me.'
'How can I do that?'
Honesty she had learned to admire. Hagen, a score of others she had known would have given the promise without hesitation; lying, treating her like a child. Now, she realized, she was acting like one. Did love always make a woman so stupid?
'I was thinking of the arena.' Her hand fell from his chest as she changed the subject. 'What are your plans? The book?'
Preoccupied, he didn't answer, prepared himself to go out-alone.
There had been no time to use facilities on Erkalt to decipher the text and further study had yielded little. The man in the laboratory where Dumarest had taken the book the previous day smiled a greeting as he entered.
'My friend! An early bird, I see.'
'Did you do as I asked?'
'Of course.' The promise of double pay had stimulated his energies. 'You could probably get better resolution with more sophisticated equipment but I doubt if it would be worth it. Here.' He rested the book on the counter and added a pile of individual sheets. 'The pages of the book lacked numbers but I took the liberty of adding them so as to make it easier for you to compare the resolutions with the originals. The marks can be erased quite simply if you wish.'
'It isn't important.' Dumarest riffled the sheets. The script, enlarged, was far clearer than that in the book. In places certain words or passages were tinted red. 'This?'
'The computer simulation of what was most probably present in the original form.' The man swept up the money Dumarest set before him. 'Thank you, sir. Glad to have been of service.'
* * *
The Hotel Brisse lay to the north. Dumarest headed south, after leaving the laboratory, following a boulevard flanked with shops, taverns, casinos, restaurants. He halted at one, taking an outside table, a brightly hued umbrella giving protection from the sun. A waiter served coffee and cakes, both of which he ignored as he studied those passing by.
One, a woman, young, her skirt slit to the hip, mirror dust on eyelids and lips, her blouse carelessly open so as to reveal the curves beneath, slowed, smiling as she saw the book on the table, the papers set to one side.
'Hi there!' She halted at Dumarest's side. 'A fine day for reading.'
'And walking.' She didn't take the hint. 'You're wasting your time.'
'It's my time. Are you a student?'
'No.'
'I didn't think so. You don't look the type. Lonely, perhaps?' She sighed as he shook his head. 'A shame. Well, no harm in trying.' Boldly she helped herself to a cake. Took another as he made no objection. 'It's a hell of a life when you can't compete with a book.'
He could see the book had a dangerous potential. Had it been set as bait? The tale of Loffredo a lure to draw him to Erkalt where Claire Hashein and Indart had been waiting? A trap the hunter's rage had aborted-if he had not yielded to jealous fury what would have happened? Dumarest could guess; delay piled on delay giving the Cyclan time to move in. Even had he been sentenced to slave labor no harm would have been done as far as his pursuers were concerned. They could have easily bought his indenture.
