he had but a single acolyte.
'Master!' Risan bowed after placing the sheaf of papers on the desk before Zao. A tall, thin young man eager to pass his final tests and become a cyber with acolytes of his own.
Zao studied the papers as he left.
The data was set in chronological order, neatly subdivided, bare facts for the most part with attendant detail if a point needed further illumination. Sheets which rippled in his hands, pausing as he checked, moving on as he scanned with trained observation. Much was as he'd anticipated; scraps of gossip gathered from the baths, the gymnasium, the small parties at which hosts entertained selected guests. Information gathered and passed on by informants and spies. Other data; Bulem's threats, Reed's boasting, and application from Myra Lancing for his services. This request he refused though he would keep it in mind. Should Kalova become too independent it might serve the Cyclan's interest for another to become Maximus, but the woman would not be a good alternative. Even so, her eagerness would make her amicable and so a useful tool which could be used to manipulate another.
A list of reports from the undersea installations.
More from the Quale Consortium.
An oddity.
Zao halted the movement of the papers and studied the report. Licenses issued to two prospectors to inspect the Quale holdings in search of valuable ores. A common enough practice; a fee gathered and an investigation made at no cost to the holder. But how often were such licenses issued?
A check gave the answer and he sensed an inconsistency. People wishing to waste their time and money on such a search were rare to the point of nonexistence. Strangers, then, new arrivals-the date confirmed the probability. Had they been checked?
The routine patrol report confirmed they had. Two men together with a raft and other equipment had been spotted on land belonging to the Consortium. Their licenses had been in order. They had shown knowledge of ores and geology.
Why should such men be interested in worthless land?
Zao reached for the communicator. To Risan he said, 'Bring me detailed maps of the area mentioned in report K57. Ask the officer commanding the patrol to report to me here personally as soon as possible.'
Chan Kline came within the hour; eager to extend every courtesy to someone so close to the Maximus. A lieutenant, smart in his uniform of brown and olive, the crimson insignia of rank bright on breast and shoulders. A man young enough to be ambitious, old enough to be wise.
He nodded as he read the report. 'Yes, sir, these are the facts. I thought it odd that men should want to prospect that area and paid them a visit. They seemed genuine enough. I tested them and the response was positive.'
'Explain.' Zao listened, said, 'When you made the remark about shale did both correct you or only one?'
'One. The man with the scarred face. The other made no comment.'
From reasons of ignorance or contempt? Or had there been no need? The latter, Zao decided, the officer had been too superficial in his examination but could hardly be blamed for that. The fact he had checked at all was proof of his efficiency.
'Their names?' The report had lacked that detail. Zao tensed as he heard the answer. 'Vardoon and Dumarest? Are you sure? Describe them.'
Kline obeyed, adding, 'They probably arrived on the last ship to land here. Do you want me to check on them in town?'
Zao made no immediate answer. Dumarest on Sacaweena? It seemed incredible and yet nothing was beyond the bounds of probability. Nothing-including a name which could be copied and an appearance which could be deceptive. On a matter of such importance there must be no doubt.
'Sir?' Kline broke the silence. 'The check?'
'That will not be necessary.' The past was dead and could do no more than add confirmation to established fact. And time, now, must not be wasted. Zao said, 'Those men must be found and held without delay. You will be in charge of the operation. Gather every available raft and man and search until they are found. If it is necessary for you to progress beyond the Consortium lands do not hesitate; I will arrange for all needed permission. As I will arrange for your rank to be changed to that of captain. Find them and you will become a major.'
High and rapid promotion for success and Kline could guess the penalty of failure. Ignominy-but he would not fail.
'One other point,' said Zao. 'A matter of prime importance which you must impress on all under your command. Those men are to be taken but not harmed. You understand? Use only the minimum amount of force required. Should they be killed or badly hurt you will answer for it.'
A complication and there was another. Kline said, 'You spoke of extending the search if necessary. To the north?'
'You object?'
'No, but others might and the Maximus will protest.'
'The men are your concern but I assure you all permissions will be obtained. I shall be with Rham Kalova before you reach the hills.' The cyber touched the map, his finger tracing ragged outlines. 'Start the search here and extend rafts in line from here to here. Use a grid pattern and overlap individual areas. Use infrared detectors if you have them to locate the men by their radiated body heat. Keep me informed of your progress.'
Kline said, 'And you will give me a signed order authorizing the operation?'
'Of course. Now please waste no more time.'
Zao returned to the map, as, saluting, the officer left. Seated, he studied the depicted terrain; the harsh ground of the Quale Consortium, the wilderness reaching north to the hills, the hills themselves. An area filled with wild guesses, assumptions, speculations. Even photographs taken from space could not be relied on-each storm changed detail, triggered violent changes.
An inferno in which the most glittering prize the Cyclan could hope to win could be hopelessly lost.
Chapter Seven
Lightning had struck a vein of silicate ore; vaporizing the metallic content and fusing the rest to be exploded out to firm into elaborate configurations of multicolored crystal. An expanse of blues and greens, reds and umbers, streaked lavender and rich purple all trapped and blended in sprays and leaves and twining pillars of adamantine substance. A bizarre yet beautiful wood made of lace and spines, trunks and saw-edged fronds, of glinting daggers and jagged barbs.
Vardoon swore as one dug into his shoulder, swore again as the tough material ripped as he tried to back away.
His voice snarled from the diaphragm of his helmet. 'This is crazy, Earl. We're wasting time.'
A man too impatient for his own good. Vardoon had led the way into the area, the path into the artificial forest, losing his temper when meeting anticipated obstacles. The rage which sometimes possessed him now threatening to break free.
'Relax.' Dumarest, at the rear, studied the trap in which Vadoon was caught. The barb digging into his suit prevented forward movement as it blocked an easy retreat. 'Roll,' he ordered. 'Turn over to your left. That's it.' Translucent lace shattered with the sound of chimes as Vardoon obeyed. 'Now edge back toward me. To your right a little. That's it.'
Dumarest backed, rising as he reached open space, waiting until his companion, grunting, stood beside him.
'A bust,' said Vardoon. 'I was sure-but I was wrong.'
Another failure to add to the rest but Dumarest made no comment. Vardoon was the guide, the one with the local knowledge and, if as yet he hadn't delivered the promised wealth, he had never promised it would be easy. Now as he jerked open his helmet to reveal a sweating face Dumarest said, 'Is this the place where you found the stuff before?'
'No.' Vardoon sniffed, scowled, coughed before he hastily sealed the helmet again against the noxious fumes rising from the sun-heated ground. 'It was just a place, Earl, I've told you that. In the hills they all look the same. We have to find the right spots and I figured they could be in there.' He gestured at the twists and spires of the
