prevented her from firing again and the dead woman had been proof enough of the accusation.
Details which now had no meaning. Dust to add to the rest, carried by the smoke, left to soil the gaudy pennons and streamers displayed throughout the city. It had begun to rain and in the dull harbinger of evening they hung like a collection of rags from their standards.
As she shivered, Dumarest reached forward and closed the leaves of the window. Wine stood on a low table and without asking her permission he poured, taking a sip before handing her the glass.
'Drink, my lady. It will warm you.'
'And you made sure I knew you hadn't poisoned it.'
'A custom on many worlds. Another glass?'
'This will do.' She sipped, savoring the wine, watching as Dumarest moved about the room, sensing his restless impatience, his desire to be gone. 'You still haven't changed your mind?'
'No, my lady.'
'I shall not ask again.' She finished the wine and set down the glass and looked at her hands, now so wrinkled and blotched where once they had been so smooth and vibrant with life. 'All this means so little to you. An old woman, a child, an accident in space. Even the threat you did so much to solve. All unimportant. Just another episode in your travels. Soon you will have forgotten us all.'
'I shall not forget.'
'No,' she admitted. 'Only idiots and fools do that and you are neither. But you will not bother to remember. We shall be lost among all the other memories you have accumulated and, one day, when someone mentions Jourdan you will need to pause and think where you have heard the name before.'
Memories, she thought, the sum total of existence, and he had so many while she had so few. Her childhood, Donal, others who had registered their presence on her emotions. Her children, Lucita-at least she could remember every tiny line of that small and wonderful face. Dumarest who had saved them both.
She said, 'I must not detain you. But before you go there is a gift I must make. Here.' She delved into a pocket and produced a heavy ring, which she slipped on his finger. From a wide band of gold the ruby stared at him like a watchful eye.
'Thank you, my lady.'
'You will treasure it?' A stupid question and she was quick to rectify it. 'Never mind. I am being maudlin. It is because I am tired. Venicia will escort you as you leave.'
She waited outside and began to walk as he reached her, saying nothing until they had reached a passage in the lower region where she halted and faced him with an air of defiance.
'There's a question I must ask,' she said. 'The woman was your engineer-why did you accuse her?'
'She wasn't my engineer.'
'Even so-'
'She begged for a berth,' said Dumarest. 'She was a skilled engineer yet she was willing to work as a handler. It only made sense if she wanted to hide. So I guessed that someone on Jourdan had reason to want her dead.'
'Canoyan-the bitch!'
'So it turned out.'
'You weren't certain?' She didn't press. 'Well, she's dead now and that's all there is to it. But I had to ask.'
A matter of loyalty, he guessed. Of the duty owed and returned by the one to whom it was given. To her it would be important, the code trapping her in a framework no less rigid than that which had led Canoyan to her death. The arrogance which had been as much a part of her as her skin. The inability to regard others as more than inferior. To consider herself inviolate because of birth and position.
Dumarest said, 'I understand.'
'Yes,' she said. 'I thought you would.' Then, 'Come, my lord. We haven't much farther to go.'
Elge closed the door and leaned against it as he looked at the glowing depiction of the galaxy illuminating his office. A toy, it was no more than that, but on it one could build entire universes of fantastic complexity. The stars were not suns but solid balls of ice at the temperature of absolute zero. The planets not as cold but still frigid when compared to the smoldering energy of space. And beyond the galaxy, in the vast spaces between the island universes lay regions of heat so incredible as to baffle the comprehension.
A simple reversal-and to what realms of speculation it could lead!
Yet such a universe could exist and he had formulated the physics which would govern it. In this new regimen light was a variable governed by magnetic flux and temperature-variation. Gravity was a matter of pressure and life a facet of condensation.
'Master!' The voice came from his communicator. 'Master may I attend you?'
Jarvet-why couldn't the aide leave him alone?
'What do you want?'
'The matter of the Illanian Combine, Master. Your final decision has not yet reached the programmers.'
A moment, then, 'Have all factories in the Harganian Sector of the Combine cease production of bacteroid 2427H. Within two harvests the blight it controls will have reduced the sector to starvation. Once that happens the Hegonians will have the lever they need to demand the dispensations they require.'
'Yes, Master. And-'
'Enough!' Tedious detail when universes waited to be constructed. 'Have all but urgent problems handled in the usual way. What news of Dumarest?'
'None.'
So he had not touched at Millett or Emney as had been predicted. Which meant that an unknown factor had been introduced and with it a complexity of variables. Elge sat at his desk as he considered it. Where would he be heading for now? Or had he landed? If so, it had to be within a certain area of where he was last reported.
Those details clustered around his mind like bees around blossoms.
Later he would attend to them. Later. But for now there was more important work to be done. The last batch of recordings had to be studied and assessed before he could finalize his report to the Council. Obviously his previous conclusions had been at fault in certain aspects and efficiency demanded that he check and reexamine before crystallizing his findings.
The communicator hummed to be ignored. The voice of his aide echoed to be similarly treated. Then there was silence broken only by his own breathing, the soft rustle of his robe as he slipped lower in the chair. Silence and the shimmering glow of the depicted galaxy which filled the room with points of brilliance. Tiny fires reflected from the attachments of the recorder and turned them into things of brightness.
Jarvet saw them as he opened the door and lifted them from the shaven skull before looking at the man in the chair. Elge didn't move but remained with his face toward the profusion of light, his opened, unwinking eyes filled with reflected gleams.
'Master?' The aide received no reply and had expected none. Stooping, he waved his hand before the staring eyes then rested the tips of his fingers on the lids and lowered them over the glazed orbs. Activating the communicator he said, 'Send Icelus to the office of the Cyber Prime.'
He arrived within minutes, prepared for what he saw. With deft skill he made a preliminary examination then stood back. 'Catatonia.' His diagnosis was terse. 'Complete withdrawal.'
'There is no doubt?'
'None.' Icelus lifted Elge's arm and released it. The limb stayed where he had left it. 'You see? He has relinquished all mental control. The autonomic system of his body continues to function, naturally; if that had ceased he would be dead.'
A word-Elge breathed, his heart beat, blood flowed through his organs but, as far as a living creature was concerned, he was dead. Without a mind he was little more than a vegetable.
'How?' Icelus looked at the attachments which Jarvet had removed and which now lay on the desk. 'I see. You warned that something like this could happen. Did he leave notes?'
A tape to which they listened then; as it fell silent, Jarvet said, 'It is obvious he became a victim of the same malady which had affected so many units of Central Intelligence. However he was certain that the condition was not caused by any disease or sickness. That it is, in effect, an acute heightening of the perceptions leading to an alteration in the viewpoint which leads to a change of mental frames of reference which had little or no association
