Opening it as green vapor closed around him, falling through it into the open air of the balcony, clutching the rail as the wind tore the clinging mist from his face and body and his lungs burned with the need for oxygen.
Seconds dragging into minutes then he breathed and breathed again of the cool, damp, life-giving air.
Avro lay slumped on the floor, his breathing shallow, his gaunt face relaxed in the sleep the gas had created. A man felled in the moment of victory by the pain which had turned his mind and body into a rebellious machine. Dumarest checked he was helpless then snatching up his knife returned to the balcony and hung dangerously over the rail.
Beneath him the rock had been cut away in a smooth concave sweep devoid of any trace of hand or foothold. That above was as formidable; a carved overhang moist with condensation pearling the near-mirror finish. Only the sides were left.
Dumarest moved to the right, stepped up to balance on the rail and, extending his arm, quested along the stone. He found nothing and moved to the other side, this time probing with his knife. The point found a crack, slipped into it, held for a moment then rasped free.
Back in the apartment he went into Angado's bedroom, found sheets, ripped them into strips to form a rope, lashed one end around his waist. On the balcony he tied the free end to the rail and, mounting it, tried again. This time the knife held and he swung from the rail on its support. His left hand found a hold and he heaved, boots scrabbling for purchase. A few inches and he rested before moving again. Farther out this time, a little higher, the knife coming free to find a new hold. Up and along again to halt as the rope tightened at his waist.
The moment of decision as wind tore at his hair and the roar of falling water echoed in his ears.
To free himself from the rope was to risk everything on his ability to climb to the upper edge of the chasm, avoid the men waiting there and make his escape in some way. To return to the apartment was to reenter the trap Avro had constructed; a sealed place from which there was only one exit and that guarded by watchful men.
Taken, he would be held, questioned, his mind probed to the last cell. He would be stripped of all knowledge then discarded as so much useless garbage. To attempt to climb was to risk falling to the rocks below. A quick death against one of long-drawn torment.
A choice made for him as rock crumbled beneath his boot and the knife slipped free to send him falling to halt with a jerk at the end of the rope. Thrusting the blade back into his boot he climbed hand over hand back to the balcony.
On the floor Avro stirred; a crippled spider tormented by savage dreams. From the room of bizarre decorations came the rolling echo of drums as Wynne Tewson pounded feebly at the door.
* * *
She was pale, lips almost bloodless, eyes marred by a yellowish tinge. The silver helmet of her hair was mussed and a bruise showed livid on her left cheek. She fought against Dumarest's arms as he dragged her into the bathroom, stripping her before holding her beneath the stinging shower. As she dried herself, shivering from the icy spray, he searched her clothing, pocketing the keys he found.
'You bastard!' Dressed, she glared at him. 'You smart, know-it-all bastard!'
'Shut your mouth.'
'Lying to me. Kissing me-then shoving me into that gas. And then what? Woke Angado, I suppose and used him to help you. Now you want me to do the same. Well, you can go to hell!'
'You'll go first.' He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the main salon. 'Over the edge and down to the rocks.' He pointed at the open door of the balcony. 'You want that?'
'You wouldn't-'
'What have I to lose?' He was curt in his interruption. 'Men are waiting on the surface to take me. If they do it's my life. You tried to trap me-why the hell should I consider you? Make your choice. You help or you go over.' He pulled her toward the opening. To where the roar of falling water filled the air. 'What's it to be?'
A choice that was no choice at all. She looked at the water, his eyes, the mouth that had grown cruel.
'I'll help, but what can I do? This place is like a prison.'
With men waiting outside on guard. By why did they wait? How long had they been ordered to stand by before taking action? Who would give the order for them to move in?
Avro stirred again and Dumarest guessed the answer. One verified as he stripped off the scarlet robe to reveal the mechanism clipped inside. A small transmitter which, when activated, would bring the others crashing in. The gas had worked too quickly for the cyber to have used it-a failure that gave Dumarest a chance.
'It won't work.' Wynne stared as Dumarest donned the scarlet robe. 'You'll never pass for a cyber.'
'Maybe not.'
'What happened to him?' She glanced at Perotto lying in a pool of blood that had drained from his mouth. 'Did you do that?'
'He killed Angado.'
'So you killed him?'
She shivered as he nodded, knowing he would kill her with the same lack of compassion if she thwarted him. As he would kill anyone who presented a threat or who had done him injury. An attribute she had sensed when lying in his arms. Even when sharing a mutual passion and, remembering it, she felt a sudden desire.
'Earl! Earl, you can trust me!'
Dumarest ignored her, cutting free the rope still hanging from the balcony, dipping a portion of it into the carmine pool beside Perotto's head, winding it around his skull to form a blood-stained bandage which covered most of his face. With talc from the bathroom he whitened his features and stooped for the robe to sweep the floor.
Scarlet identified a cyber, one hurt, his face almost invisible beneath the bandage and the drawn cowl.
'Earl?'
He said, 'The way out is by the elevator or the stairs. The stairs will be guarded so we'll use the elevator. I'll lean on you and you'll explain to anyone who asks that I was hurt by the man I came for. He's still downstairs gassed and helpless.'
She was bitter at his rejection. 'Then what? We take wings and fly?'
'One thing at a time. First we get out. Unless we do that the rest doesn't matter.'
'Not to you,' she agreed. 'But I'd just as soon stay here.'
'As a corpse?' Dumarest stepped close to her, the knife glimmering in his hand. Steel as hard as the determination stamped on his face. 'I'm fighting for my life, girl. Remember that. Cross me and you'll be dead. The same if you betray me. The same if you don't cooperate. Now let's get going.'
The elevator sighed down and to a halt at Wynne's signal. It held a man who went down beneath the smashing impact of Dumarest's knife, the pommel a hammer throwing the man into unconsciousness. Blood would have betrayed the deception; the missing man could prove an asset. Dumarest dragged him from the elevator before locking the woman to him with his left arm, his right hand with the knife slipping close to prick her flesh through the clothing.
'He was sent to stand guard over Dumarest,' he said. 'If anyone should ask that's what you tell them. Volunteer the information if they are suspicious but don't go into too much detail.'
'Dumarest?'
'Just do as I say.' She winced as the point dug deeper. 'Up now.'
The door slid shut and the elevator moved upward. As it came to a halt Dumarest sagged even more, throwing his weight against the woman, twisting to hide the blade he held against her.
'Master!' The acolyte was concerned, stepping forward as he saw the figure in the scarlet robe. 'Master, are you hurt?'
'A head injury.' Wynne answered the question. 'Please step to one side.'
Tupou obeyed, checking the empty elevator, stepping toward it.
'The man is guarding Dumarest.' Wynne spoke quickly, conscious of the knife at her side. 'Inform your master that he is ready to be taken.'
His master? Ishaq had his own aides but Tupou was assigned to Avro. A thing the cyber would have known if not the woman, but why hadn't he ordered her to summon aid if he was hurt? Especially when his acolyte was so
