intelligence, making the Maximus nothing but a puppet of flesh and blood and bone. A fact he dared not reveal; if Kalova even suspected it he would stop at nothing to capture Dumarest for his own ends.
Zao said in his even monotone, 'The man is nothing to you, my lord, that is true, but the crime he committed against the Cyclan must not remain unpunished. He must be taken and your help would be more than appreciated.'
And the converse would apply. Kalova resumed his pacing, brow creased in thought. To aid the Cyclan would bring rich rewards as had already been promised; a hint of surgical techniques to recapture a new vitality, drugs to combat the advance of age. A bonus to be added to the power which kept him Maximus. To defy them was to invite ruin and death.
What had Dumarest done to arouse such determination?
'I cannot be blamed, Cyber.' Kalova paused to touch a hanging chime, small sounds rising to echo his words. 'You had rafts and men commanded by an officer of your choice. The permission to search my northern holdings was unnecessary and events proved it. My own guards would have taken the fugitives had yours not argued the matter. A stupidity compounded by your commander.'
A fool, who had paid the price of his folly. Kline was better dead but still questions remained.
Kalova shrugged when they were asked. 'The officer, driver, marksman and signaler were killed but the observer was found alive. The fugitives did not open fire-they returned it. Hardly a crime. Those in the other rafts obeyed their original instructions and took no potentially harmful action. In any case they had no choice once the chase had left the north and Dumarest was crossing other holdings. Not even I can violate another's rights.'
The code would destroy him should he break it, which made it impossible to send a task force to snatch Dumarest from the church; should it be tried, every holder would rise in protest. A hundred and forty-seven of them each with rafts and men and guns. Each determined to protect his rights.
'She'll make the exchange,' said Kalova. He touched the chime again, waited for the tinklings to fade. 'She's greedy and worried and aware of just how vulnerable she is if I choose to move against her. The last conflict hurt her and she'll be wary of taking risks. Just give her time to think about it. She'll do as we want.'
'And if she defies you, my lord?'
A stab at his pride and the result Zao had intended. Those cursed with the burden of emotion could be manipulated like dolls.
'I'll break her!' Kalova slashed his hand at the hanging chimes and left shattered crystal to litter the carpet. The blow lacerated the skin of his hand, minor wounds he did not feel as he remembered her smile, the lilt of her voice, her barely masked contempt. He was the Maximus and should be obeyed! Would be obeyed! 'I'll ruin her!'
Bowing, Tobol said, 'My lady, it is a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon after your last visit.'
His voice held a question she made no attempt to answer. Let him wonder at her interest-knowledge was wealth to those who commanded it. Then, looking into his face, his old, wise eyes, she recognized her childishness.
'Those men? How are they?'
'Well, my lady. As well as can be expected.' His arm made an inviting gesture. 'Dumarest is on the upper balcony. I will send wine and cakes if you care to join him.'
The wind was from the sea and ruffled her hair as Fiona emerged on the long, narrow path flanked by the rising swell of the roof to one side, a crenelated parapet on the other. Dumarest turned as she approached. His clothing had been refurbished and gleamed with a muted sheen. A softness hardened by the knife in his boot, the face above the collar of the tunic.
'My lady.' His tone was formal. 'May I take this opportunity to extend my gratitude for your forbearance?'
'Accepted, but why be grateful? The monks took care of you, Earl, not I.' She smiled and took a step closer. 'Yes, I know your name. Do you know mine? Good, then use it. My first name,' she added. 'I want us to be friends.'
'You are kind.'
'Curious,' she corrected. 'Strangers are rare on this world and each holds novelty. What brought you to Sacaweena?'
'A promise, my lady, and a name.'
'I asked you not to be formal, Earl. It places a barrier between us. Do you want that or is it that you have reason not to like my name? Carmodyne used to say it sounded like music. Do you agree?'
'Fiona,' he said. 'Fiona-yes, it holds melody. A charm which matches the one who bears it. Carmodyne?'
'My uncle. He built all this.' Her gesture embraced the church. 'He's dead now but his memory lives on in stone and decorations. If you are interested I'll show you what he looked like. He left a carving, somewhat distorted, but it holds the essence of the man. I think he would have liked you, Earl. You could have liked him. You could even have taught him a little sense.'
He noted the hardening of her tone, the underlying tension. A woman of strong passions, subjected to equally strong impulses. He remembered the way she had looked at him, the expression in her eyes. One he had seen before.
He said, 'Carmodyne. A Velen?'
'Of course. The Holder when he died. I inherited. To me came the paper, the profit and the penalties.' She drew in her breath at the thought of what they could be, annoyed at herself for having mentioned them, more annoyed at the fear they created. Ghosts which need never materialize. Terrors which could remain unborn. Had Correo consoled himself with such platitudes? Did Bulem?
'So you inherited,' said Dumarest. 'Were there others of your house? Your father, for instance?'
'He died a year after I was born. That's why my uncle was so close.' She shrugged, impatient at the questioning. 'Does it matter?'
'Not really.'
'Then why mention it?' She turned to look at the sea. The wind had created long, rolling swells which caught the light and reflected it in shimmers of crimson so as to form a lake of fire, broken by something which rose, to hang for a moment in a sparkle of droplets, to dive again to leave widening ripples. 'Do you fish, Earl? Not with a line or nets but with a mask and air tanks and a gun. Meeting things ten times your size and challenging them in their own environment. Killing them and bringing back the trophies to awe your friends. Does that appeal to you?' She turned to face him. 'Earl?'
He said quietly, 'I do not kill for amusement.'
'No.' Her hand rose to touch his cheek, the fingers to linger on his lips before falling back to her side. 'No, I didn't think you did. You aren't like other men. You have no need to prove your masculinity by hounding and destroying creatures from a safe distance. How many hunters, I wonder, would dare to meet an animal on equal terms? Naked, armed only with natural weapons, a knife at the most. Is your friend a hunter?'
'You could call him that.'
'And you? What should I call you, Earl?'
'A fool, perhaps? An optimist?' He smiled down at her from his superior height. 'Or just a very lucky man.'
That, certainly, but there had to be more. She was aware of his eyes searching her face, lingering on the golden mane of her hair. Flattery without the need of words, which alone proved he was a clever man with a strong sense of survival-yet why had he risked so much? And why did Kalova want him so badly? Dumarest had to be the answer-for hours she had checked and assessed each possibility. His companion, hurt, could be of little value, the sector was a liability-so what else was left?
Yet how to be sure?
The scuff of sandals broke her introspection as monks came with the promised refreshment. Impatiently she watched as a small, portable table was loaded with cakes and wine, the monks bowing as they withdrew. Again alone she looked at Dumarest as he poured them both wine, wondering at his ease, his confidence. Surely he must know how deeply he was in her power?
Abruptly she said, 'Who are you, Earl?'
'Your guest,' he said. 'Your debtor.'
'And you pay your debts?'
'When I can.' Picking up the glasses he came toward her, halting to extend one, lifting his own as she took it.
