'It shall be given, brother.' Tobol hadn't hesitated. 'What do you need?'
'Nothing for myself but my friend is dying.' He had added flatly, 'I do not ask for charity.'
Pride, she thought, a man with pride.
Stretching she felt the soft caress of silken sheets against her naked flesh. A caress accentuated by the touch of her hands as they moved over the contours of her body. Would his hands be as gentle? Would he be patient and understanding or would he take with a selfish disregard of her own needs?
Against the closed lids of her eyes she saw him again, tall, strong, his face savage with its mask of blood. Had he seen her? A glance, perhaps, but his attention had been on the monks, the help they could give. Yet some things she had learned; his name for one, his needs-information conveyed by Tobol as he had made his excuses. Replies to her direct questions.
Earl Dumarest-a man she found it hard to forget.
Her hands moved, settled, explored another region of her body in narcissistic appreciation. Would he look at her as Lynne had looked when they had shared a common bath? The woman had insisted on giving her a massage, leaning over her supine body, her own, untrammeled breasts hanging like pendulous fruit, nipples prominent, blue veins making a delicate tracery beneath the skin. Her hands had been hungry as they applied oil, had quested too urgently. Her eyes, when Fiona had turned and then risen, had held an expression not pleasant to see.
But she had been subtle, hinting at another time, another occasion. Hinting too of the help she could give and the kind of enemy she could make. A frustrated and selfish bitch who would do better with a man.
Dumarest?
Fiona stirred, seeing again the bloodstained face with the hard, searching eyes. The mouth which matched the chin in determination, the body beneath the soiled gray of his clothing. A hard, firm, well-muscled body, well- suited to the giving of strong sons.
The hum of her phone interrupted an intriguing vein of speculation. Rham Kalova stared at her from the screen.
'Fiona, my dear! Not yet up?'
'It's early, Maximus.'
'True, but you know the proverb-first to the feast gets the finest choice. Well, never mind that. You are well, I hope?' He beamed as she nodded. 'That is good to hear. We haven't been as close as I would have wished of late. A woman of your attainments should be seated at the top table during assembly. Perhaps something could be done about it. I may not be as young as I was but I can still appreciate the presence of a beautiful woman.'
A fool, she thought, and worse, a senile one. Or a man acting the part and Kalova was a poor actor. He wanted something-but what?
She said, smiling, 'You are most kind, Maximus. And I am most fortunate that you think of me at times. To sit beside you at table would be to gain my highest ambition. Of course, before that could happen my holdings would have to increase, and-'
'Yes, yes,' he said shortly, then resumed his smile. 'Even that could be arranged. You are a shrewd woman and could gain as long as pressures were not directed against you. If the opportunity should arise I am certain you would recognize it and take full advantage of the situation. High gain, my dear, and it could begin now. Which is why I am calling. A small matter of a transfer of holdings; your sector D 18 for sector K 29. I take it you agree?'
D 18-what could Kalova want with the church?
She said, a little blurredly, 'I don't quite understand what you want, Maximus. Something about being seated at your side during the next assembly, wasn't it?' Inwardly she smiled as his face changed, became old and ugly and, somehow, womanish in its spite. A moment only, then again he was smiling, gently shaking his head, little crinkles at the corners of eyes and mouth.
'You're still half-asleep, my dear. I'm merely offering you an exchange of holdings. Of course, should you agree, there, could be other benefits.'
Things he had spelled out had she the wit to understand. Pressures not applied so as to give her a measure of safety over and above her own skill and ability. Opportunities made should she become his willing tool in whatever plan he had in mind. But why the church?
'K 29 for D 18,' she mused. 'Carmodyne's monument. That's what I call it, Maximus, and I am a very sentimental person. I think I owe it to his memory to maintain his bequest. My personal charity, you understand.'
'Charity begins at home.'
'Of course-and K 29 is what?' Her relay lights confirmed the promptings of her memory. 'A section of undersea development situated at the edge of the continental shelf. Hardly a prize, Maximus.'
'But one with a high potential, my dear. Also the revenue is good.'
'Perhaps.' She yawned, slender fingers rising to cover her mouth. 'Your pardon, Maximus, but I had a rather late night. Was there anything else?'
'No. I am glad you agree, my dear. The record can be made immediately if you will take care of your end.'
'But we haven't agreed,' she said firmly. 'One sector for another-where's the profit? And I like to look at the church and think of Carmodyne. Somehow it brings him closer to me. Did you know there's a carving of him inside the building? At times I sit before it and it's almost as if he were speaking to me. I'd hate to lose that small pleasure.'
He said tightly, 'Sectors K 29 and M 15-I'll double the bid!'
Again she checked the dancing lights. M 15-a stretch of barren land adjoining the Quale Consortium. Yet its very position gave it a certain value. Arment was eager to break the Consortium and could be interested. Helm too-the possibilities were intriguing. But why did Kalova want the church? If it was important to him it could be equally so to others.
'You are generous, Maximus, but I hate to be rushed into anything. Could I call you back on the matter? I'm sure there can't be any hurry. In any case I must arrange for a new gown to wear at the next assembly.' Her smile held a cloying sweetness, 'You know-when I sit next to you at table.'
As Rham Kalova turned from the phone Zao said, 'She refused.'
'You heard.'
'The probability was in the order of sixty-four percent. Less when you doubled your offer. Obviously there is a factor yet to be taken into account.'
'The man,' said Kalova. 'Dumarest and his friend. Had I made the offer a week ago she would have jumped at it.' His sneer was obvious. 'Even I can determine what lies under my feet, Cyber. I don't need the Cyclan for that.'
A man wounded in his pride and striking out without thought for the consequences. One looking for a convenient excuse.
Zao said, 'The men are a factor, that is apparent, but what are they to her?'
'They are men-that's good enough. The woman is a nymphomaniac!'
A false judgment; narcissism was not nymphomania as Kalova should know. Yet further proof that his faculties were not what they should be. Left to his own devices he would have been beaten long ago, toppled from his high position to make way for another, more capable Maximus. As he would be toppled if the need arose.
'If you had issued the directives as I asked, my lord, this situation would not exist.' Zao followed the restless pacing of the other with his deep-set eyes. 'I would suggest that it is futile to employ experts if you have no intention of following their advice.'
'Advice?' Kalova halted, spun so as to face the figure in scarlet. 'Orders, you mean. Permission for the guard to search my holdings! To fly over them! To abrogate my rights! And for what? So a couple of poachers could be apprehended. Some trespassers taught a lesson. Dumarest-what is he to me?'
The man who held the answer to Kalova's dearest wish; the secret he held would provide the Maximus with a young, virile body. The affinity twin which could make Kalova the dominant part, using the host's body as if it were his own, sensing, feeling, a seeming part of the subject. Active life extended via a line of host-subjects. New bodies for old-a bribe no man could refuse, no aging woman resist.
If the Cyclan regained it a cyber's mind would now be in Kalova's body, dominating his own subdued
