Earth is Heaven

His hand rose to touch the dappled shoulder, moved to rest on the base of the neck. Beneath his fingers the angel jerked, jerked again as the rope Dumarest had hidden behind his back fell in a tightening loop over its wrists.

'Easy,' soothed Dumarest. 'Just take it easy.'

The belt fell free, the chain attached to the bulkhead holding it suspended inches from the deck.The angel, taller than Dumarest, reared even taller, wings lifting to spread, to snap close as he tightened the rope holding the wrists.

'Easy,' he said again then, as claws slid from the fingertips, snarled in sudden rage. 'Easy, damn you! Do as I say!'

A blast of fury against which Sheiner's had been a candle against a roaring furnace. The claws retracted, the wings coming to rest, the angel slumping as Dumarest led it through the door toward the hold. The hatch was now open, clear sky showing through the panel, blueness ornamented with a host of shimmering wings.

'Home,' said Dumarest. 'You're going home.'

He felt the sudden tension of the creature, saw the tilted head, the elongated eyes lambent as they stared at the sky and the wheeling angels. Distraction which he used; lifting the bound hands, dropping them over his head, locking the creature's arms under his own. Against his back he felt the surge of corded muscle, the lifting of a calloused knee.

'Do it and I'll kill you!' His thought was a lance of fire. Then, softly and aloud, he murmured. 'Home. You're going home now-and you're taking me with you.'

He ran, forcing the angel to follow, to match his step as he lunged toward the open hatch. Reaching it to dive through, ignoring the ramp, hearing above his head the sudden thunder of wings. A moment of strain during which the ground came close then, slowly, it fell away as air blasted past his face and the noise of the wings pulsed in his ears.

A noise shredded by the sudden blast of the Erce's alarm.

'Down! Down damn you!' Ysanne's voice rose high as the strident alarm faded. 'Down or I'll shoot!'

The blast of shots followed and Dumarest felt the angel carrying him flinch. They were still low, nearing the settlement, the men running from it. Past them, lying directly ahead, was the forest of pointed lances erected for defense.

As more shots rang out Dumarest fell.

He hit the dirt, rolling, seeing the angel soar up and away, the rope dangling from one wrist. As it merged with others the men from the settlement reached him, Farnham among the first.

'Got the bastard!' Like the others he was armed with a heavy stave. Lifting it, he said, 'Break his arms and legs. Make sure he can't pull any tricks. Then we'll drag him to Avro and-'

He jerked as bullets slammed into his chest, shattering ribs and lacerating lungs so that he spun, a carmine flood gushing from his mouth.

As he hit the dirt Ysanne said, 'The reward is mine. Anyone else want to argue?'

She stood close, straddle-legged, the gun cradled in her arms. Batrun, to one side, was unarmed. As the gun lowered to point at Dumarest he said, 'Ysanne, please! You can't-'

'Shut up!' She snared with sudden anger. 'You're too damned soft. In this universe you look out for yourself or go under.' The gun jerked a fraction. 'On your feet, Earl. Try anything and I'll ruin your legs.' She added, grimly, 'Don't think I'd hesitate-Batrun can drag you to the cyber.'

Chapter Fourteen

Avro waited in a chamber painted a neutral grey, the room which in an ordinary ship would have been the salon, but here were no means of diversion and the Seldah was no ordinary vessel. A thing Dumarest had noted as Ysanne had driven him toward the port; more obvious now he was inside. A vessel of unusual lines and construction containing, he guessed, novel devices. The product of Cyclan technology and probably on its maiden flight.

'The gun.' Weitz stepped forward, his own laser lifting in his hand. 'You will discard the gun.'

'Sure.' Ysanne glanced at the cyber, at Amrik, at the others in the chamber. Ship-crew from the way they were dressed and one of them seemed to be the captain. 'Just as soon as a few things are settled.' Her tone hardened. 'Move that pistol another fraction and I'll blow his head off!'

Dumarest felt the pressure of the muzzle against his skull, heard Batrun say, 'Be careful, Ysanne! Kill him and-'

'You will both be destroyed.' Avro gestured at Weitz, deploring the necessity of having to use the man, but with one acolyte already dead he had little choice. As the laser lowered he added, 'You had best state your position.'

'I was approached,' she said. 'Maybe by the same man who made a deal with Craig. Promised a high reward if I worked for the Cyclan. I was to stay undercover and move only when essential to capture Dumarest. Well, here he is.' A push sent him stumbling toward the cyber. 'How much is he worth?'

More than she could ever guess-a fact Avro would never divulge.

'The gun.' He watched as she threw it to one side, waited until the metallic echoes had died. 'Where were you contacted?'

'On Jourdan.' She didn't hesitate with her answer. 'When do I collect?'

'Soon,' said Avro. 'Be patient.'

Her story could be checked, but to do it he would have to enter rapport and contact Central Intelligence. If the answer was negative she could still be working on his side; taking advantage of opportunity to gain riches. As Farnham had tried to do. Shooting him had proved her to be ruthless if nothing else.

Dumarest said, 'Kill her! Get rid of the lying bitch!'

A natural reaction, but would he have made it had they been allies? A man hurt, confused, poisoned with anger would have wanted revenge. Weitz raised his pistol.

'You bastard!' Ysanne looked at the weapon. 'Is this how the Cyclan keeps its word?'

'Move and you will die. You also.' Avro glanced at Batrun. To Dumarest he said, 'You know what will happen to you if you act foolishly.'

'I know.' Dumarest glanced at the acolyte, at the other standing close to the cyber, at the others in the chamber. The captain and three of his crew standing against the far wall. Armed, seemingly alert, yet small signs betrayed their true nature. A certain listlessness, a blankness of expression, a lack of curiosity. Robots fashioned from flesh and blood, conditioned, programmed to obey. He said, as if with interest, 'How did you manage to follow us? We carried no homing device-the ship was searched after Craig died.'

'You were not followed.'

'Then-'

'A prediction.' Avro felt again the glow of mental achievement. 'From the collected data it was obvious where you would be found. The rest was merely a matter of reaching your destination.'

'No.' Dumarest shook his head. 'I can't believe that. You had no way of telling where the Erce was bound. It was a matter of luck.'

'Luck is the favorable combination of fortuitous circumstances. The Cyclan does not rely on such random phenomena.' Avro paused then, added, 'It was a matter of calculated assessment. I cannot understand why you should be surprised. Or have you forgotten Cyber Vire whom you left in a wrecked vessel close to Zabul?'

'He reached safety?'

'On Zabul, yes. And there he learned of your activities. The interest you had shown in the Archives and of a certain mnemonic you heard from one of the Terridae. A recording had been made-the rest was simple.'

Ysanne had solved the cypher-for Vire it would have been child's play once it had come to his attention. The coordinates isolated, the information relayed-the rest had been a matter of routine.

'It was still luck,' said Dumarest. 'You had a special ship and so were able to get here in time. Another day or so and we would have been gone.' He looked at Ysanne and corrected, bleakly, 'No. Something would have delayed us; trouble with the engine or a search to the north to find ruins and treasure. Nights spent beneath the stars talking of love. Of what we'd find. Of what we'd do. Lies! All of it lies!'

Shrugging, Ysanne said, 'Quit whining, Earl. It's the luck of the game.'