Angado

appears untouched. Which must be evidence of a harmless infection.'

'The man could be a carrier.'

Fedotik said, quickly, 'We have considered the possibility and have a solution which we hope will meet with your approval. The ship is bound for Anfisa. We can make a diversion and land on Velor away from any habitable area.' He saw Jofre's expression and added, 'Not too far away, of course, and we can leave supplies. If the illness is harmless-as we are certain it is-then they will recover and no harm will have been done.'

'And the ship will be safe,' said Krogstad. 'By the time we reach Anfisa we'll know for sure if any plague is on board. If there is more sickness the authorities will be notified.' He spread his hands in mute appeal. 'Two men against the ruin of us all. Brother, I beg you to accept the compromise.'

One made only because of his presence. Jofre had no illusions as to the captain's motives. To evict the pair would be easier and cheaper than landing on Velor.

'When?'

'Two days.'

'Can I see them?' Jofre listened to the silence which was his answer. 'Talk with them?' A pause, then he said firmly, 'At least let me check their supplies.'

Things Dumarest stacked after the ship had gone, leaving him and the sick man on a rolling plain already touched by shadows. Low on the horizon a sullen sun threw long rays of gold and amber, orange and yellow light, which illuminated drifting cloud to swathe the sky in dying beauty. As the day died so did its heat and Dumarest worked quickly to build a fire, using dried grasses and lumps of peat which burned slowly and cast a somber glow.

'Earl!' Nossak woke to rear upright where he had lain. 'Earl!'

'I'm here, Angado.' Dumarest handed the man a canteen. 'How do you feel?'

'I'm burning. My insides are like a furnace and I ache all over.' He drank and fell back to lie in the shelter of the supplies. 'So we got dumped, eh? I thought it was a nightmare. Well, I guess it's better than getting thrown into the void. What was it that hit me?'

Dumarest shrugged. 'Maybe a virus of some kind or it could have been an allergy. No one seemed to want to find out. That fool Cranmer shouted 'plague' and that was it.'

'So I got dumped and you with me.' Nossak turned his head, face ugly with lumps now darkened with blotches. 'I guess you had no choice, huh?'

'No.'

'If you had? I mean, would you be here now?'

'No.'

'At least you're honest. I'll have to remember that. Maybe…'

He fell back, lost in a sudden sleep which was close to a coma; fitful periods of unconsciousness that hit at any time and without warning. A symptom of his illness; the lumps were another. Blotched masses hard beneath the skin that covered his entire body. Some were crusted by the dried scabs of oozing secretions.

By the light of the fire and the stars overhead Dumarest checked the supplies. There was water, concentrated food, a small supply of drugs, a hand axe, a compass, some needles and thread, a length of fine wire, a knife. Dumarest compared it to the one he lifted from his boot then set it to one side. The rest of the bulk was made up of two large but empty plastic sacs and a bundle of clothing.

Dumarest piled most of them around the sick man, covering the whole with one of the plastic bags. Seated before the fire he worked at the length of wire, fashioning lines ending in running loops. Stepping into the starlit darkness he set the snares, holding them with doubled ends of the wire set deep in the dirt. Back at the fire he ate a wafer of concentrate, washed it down with a sip of water and, knife in hand, closed his eyes.

He slept like an animal, hovering on the brink of wakefulness, starting alert as something threshed in the grass to one side. A small rodent, he guessed, which had become caught in a snare and he mentally marked the direction of the noise.

As the stars began to pale with the onset of dawn he heard a series of dull explosions to the north followed by a vivid lavender flash. He marked it with the knives dug into the ground to form a line of sight which he checked with the compass as the day grew brighter. When the plain lay revealed in sharp detail he went to check the snares, finding them all intact except one. It rested in a twisted mass among crushed grass stained with flecks of blood. Around it he saw the marks of spatulate paws.

An hour later it began to rain.

* * *

Angado Nossak was singing in a high, cracked voice, a melody that made little sense followed by a babbling string of words that made even less. Dumarest rose from his place beside the fire and crossed to the prostrate man. It was late afternoon, the rain had cleared the air leaving a brisk freshness now sharpened by the chill of approaching evening.

'Earl!' The babbling stopped as the man looked up, crusted lips parting in a smile. 'Good old Earl. My friend. My faithful retainer. Did I tell you how you will be rewarded? For you a palace filled with nubile maidens, fountains of wine, tables groaning beneath the weight of assorted viands. Land and workers to tend your crops. On Lychen you will live like a king.'

'Lychen?'

'My home world. The residence of the family to which I belong. Allow me to present Hedren Angado Nossak Karroum.' His arm waved in a vague gesture. 'The spoiled son of a decaying line. Yet there are those who hold me in high regard. Those who… who…'

'Wake up!' The slap of Dumarest's hand against the lolling cheek caused birds to rise with startled croakings from the plain. 'Damn you, wake up!' Another slap. As the eyes opened to focus with bleared concentration Dumarest snapped, 'Now listen to me! Listen, damn you! I'm giving you two days to get on your feet. Until the dawn after next. Call it thirty-six hours. Do you understand?'

'Earl, I…'

'Keep awake!' Dumarest rose and gripped the plastic sac he had spread over the recumbent man. The rain it had trapped sloshed wetly over his hands to cascade down over Nossak's face and head; the deluge caused him to splutter but cleared his eyes. 'Now listen!'

'Earl?'

'You're ill, dying, and I mean that. Unless you're able to travel the day after tomorrow I'm leaving you. That means you work to get well or you stay and be food for what's living out there.' Dumarest jerked his head at the plain. 'It's up to you. Personally I don't give a damn. I'd be better off alone.'

'You mean it.' Nossak struggled to focus his eyes. 'You really mean it.'

'That's right.' Dumarest's tone matched his expression, cold, hard, unyielding. 'Now hold still.'

The drugs were in ampules fitted with hollow needles serving as strings. The first brought sleep, the second was loaded with wide-coverage antibiotics, the third held slow time; chemical magic which speeded the metabolism and stretched seconds into minutes, hours into days. Angado would wake thin, starving, but able to walk if luck was with him. If his survival instinct, bolstered by the grim warning, gave him the needed incentive. If either failed then he would die.

Dumarest covered the sleeping man with clothing, covered that with one of the plastic sacs and turned away. He'd done all he could and now it was time to ensure his own survival.

Far out on the plain birds rose with a sudden thrum of wings, and he studied them, eyes narrowed as he counted their number, the direction of their flight. A period of quiet and then another sudden uprush of winged shapes, closer and heading in his general direction. More came as the sun touched the horizon much closer than the others. Then nothing but silence and the brooding of watching eyes.

Out on the plain death was waiting.

Dumarest knew what it had to be. In such open country game was scarce and hard to bring down. The creature that had stolen the snared rodent had tasted blood and wanted more. It was only a question of time before the predator decided to attack.

For Dumarest it couldn't be too soon.

He had prepared the trap; ropes woven from strips of clothing now set to form a pattern of loops and barriers