with the universe as we know it.'
'A good definition of insanity,' said Icelus. 'What happened to his theory that the derangement was due to sensory deprivation?'
The tape gave the answer, Elge's voice coming in its even modulation from the speaker as Jarvet found the place.
'As a theory it has served its purpose and can now be discarded. From our experiments we have learned that there is a close correlation between catatonic withdrawal and mental ability. The higher the intelligence and the more disciplined the mind the greater is the ability to survive sensory deprivation. All cybers have a trained and finely edged mind. All suffer from some form of sensory deprivation for the major part of their lives. All anticipate the total cessation of bodily stimuli as the reward for dedicated obedience to the Cyclan. The laws that apply to emotionally crippled organisms do not apply to those free of such handicaps. The conclusion, therefore, is that the apparent derangement must be due to a growing awareness of mental capability on the parts of the units affected. To discover the real nature of this development is the basis of my experiments.'
The tests and trials had ruined his mind, leading to the subtle addiction to madness that had brought him to his present condition. Jarvet looked down at the man whom he had served since his elevation to the highest office the Cyclan had to offer. Elge had failed, as his predecessor had failed, to find Dumarest and the cure of the affinity twin-who now would take his place?
Ysanne was restless, pacing the salon like a caged tiger, snapping at Batrun when he tried to offer condolences and reassurances.
'The old bitch has him fast and doesn't want to let him go. Soon it will be dark-another night and how many yet to come?'
'Probably none. Earl will be here as soon as he can.'
'If he wants to come. If she hasn't bribed him with soft-bodied women-God knows she has enough at her disposal. Money too and-oh, the hell with it. I want a drink!'
She found it in a bar at the edge of the field and stood in a corner sipping a thick wine which tasted of oil and grease. Imagination, probably, but she forced it down hoping to numb her senses and quiet her nerves. She was acting the fool and knew it but the knowledge didn't help. Dumarest would come to her when he was ready and she had no right or reason to act like a jealous idiot. No wonder Batrun had thrown up his hands and gone to help Craig with the generator. Shandhar, too, had stayed well out of her way. He was a fool like the rest-couldn't he see she was concerned for them all?
The bar began to get crowded, workers coming in from the field, eager to shelter from the rain. A couple of guards entered, shaking rain from their capes, followed by a man who stared at her with frank admiration, another, more bold, who halted to take her arm. His companion drew him away at her frown; older, he knew what could happen to an impulsive male on a world ruled by women.
When the music blared from a machine, she'd had enough and went outside to feel the drizzle on her face. The wine hadn't had any affect and she guessed it had been watered or the pills Batrun had given her after the ball were still negating the alcohol. The palace drew her toward it and she was facing the door when Dumarest emerged. For a moment she stared at him and then was running to clasp him in her arms. 'Earl! I was getting worried!'
'No need. How are things at the ship?'
'As you might expect.' She was chilled by his attitude. 'The Hausi cooperated once the old cow met her obligation and met that note.' She saw the ring on his hand. 'A bonus?'
'You could call it that.'
'Or a love-gift? I could call it that too.'
'You can call it anything you want.' Dumarest lifted it to look at the stone. 'I call it fuel when we need it and supplies and stuff to help us on our way.' He smelled her breath. 'What have you been drinking?'
'They called it wine. I got it in that place at the edge of the field. Starrest, I think, some name like that.'
'A dive.' He took her by the arm. 'Let's find somewhere decent so as to dodge this rain.'
It was large, the room low-roofed, set with tables and benches. A tavern which held a warm comfort with windows that showed the darkening sky. A good place to be- compared to the other it was a palace against a slum. A youngster brought them a bottle dusted with sparkles and glasses engraved with interwound figures engaged in an ancient pastime. Pouring, he stirred the air with empty chatter.
'Did you see it? A public burning-I tried to get away but the mistress is strict and said I was too young and anyway, the place needed cleaning. I think she was afraid of my finding a better situation. The talk is that there could be more executions and if there are I'm going to attend no matter what. Not that there's much danger of losing my job. Once the word gets around we'll be run off our feet with the extra trade. A spectacle like that is bound to bring in the tourists. One thing you've got to hand to the matriarch she knows how to rule. Once let a rebel get a step out of line and who knows where things will end?'
'Bodies on every standard,' said Dumarest. 'Burnings every night. In a year you'll be famous.'
'That's right.' The youngster missed the irony. 'Anything else, my lord?'
Dumarest said, 'What have you to eat?'
'Some shredded meat roasted before an open fire and dusted with spice. Marinated fowl. Three kinds of bread and a soup so thick you could float a ship on it. If you want the full meal I could arrange a table in the restaurant or if you only want a snack you could have it here.'
'A snack,' said Dumarest. 'Meat and some bread. Serve it here.'
Ysanne laughed as the youth hurried away. 'He must have heard of you, Earl. He acts as if you're his hero.'
'No, he's afraid of displeasing you. Watch his eyes when he returns.'
They flickered from her face to Dumarest and back again as if he waited a clue before speaking, as he put the food on the table and looked at the tip Dumarest had given him.
'Thank you, my lord. If there's anything more you want just let me know. We've fine rooms upstairs if you've the need for a soft bed and a bit of privacy.' His eyes moved to Ysanne. 'My lady?'
'Later, maybe. I'll let you know.' Her smile widened as she followed the youth with her eyes. 'I could enjoy living on a world like this. At least women aren't treated as chattels.' She frowned. 'Earl?' He had turned away from her to stare after a retreating figure. 'Earl, is something wrong?'
'That man.'
He frowned, trying to remember the fleeting glimpse he'd caught of the face. With deep lines and beetling brows, the cheeks blotched with purple scars, the face was not easily forgotten.
He'd last seen it on Zabul!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The field was heavy with dust, the
'Hurry, Earl! The others are inside. If there's danger we've got to get in and seal the hull.'
The obvious course, but Dumarest took his time. The ship seemed deserted, the area around devoid of life, if there was any threat at all it would be lying within the hull.
'You could have been mistaken,' she said. 'You only caught a glimpse of the man and he'd gone when I tried to spot him. At least I couldn't recognize anyone. Let's get inside and seal up.'
'You go first,' he said. 'Give me three minutes then walk up the ramp. I'll use the emergency lock.'
It engulfed him after she had entered to pass him through the hull and into the hold. It was deserted and he edged toward the engine room hearing small noises; the tap of metal against metal, the murmur of conversation. Sounds grew louder as he opened the door to show the newly assembled generator, the figures kneeling beside it. Craig and Batrun were apparently engrossed in their work, hands before them and hidden by their bodies. The tapping and murmur were as loud and as regular as before.
'Ysanne?'
'Here!' Dumarest tensed as he heard her voice. 'I'm here-Earl! Be careful!'
The warning came too late. Dumarest heard the soft pad of a foot behind him, turned, felt the hard muzzle of
