'What?'
'This.' She imitated the sound, giving a series of deep grunts followed by a hiss then more grunts. 'The sewage farm on level 23,' she explained. 'They're clearing the processed sludge and making ready for a new intake. Careful now!'
A fissure yawned at their feet. She jumped it, waited for them to follow, then headed into a place filled with thickening gloom. As the walls closed around them Dumarest released her arm and drew his knife.
She said, 'You won't need that, Earl.'
'I hope not.'
'No one will hurt you here.'
'No,' he said, dryly, 'but that isn't to say they won't try. Get off now.'
'Leave you? But-'
'Go!' His voice carried a snarl. 'Move!'
For a moment she stood there, eyes wide, shining in the dimness then, gulping, she turned and ran.
'Earl-'
'After her!' Dumarest followed his own advice, running quietly down the passage which had swallowed her. If she was leading them into a trap her lone arrival would create consternation and give them the element of surprise. It wasn't needed.
Beyond the mouth of the passage, in a chamber bright with clustered fungi, stood a lone man his hand resting on the girl's shoulder. He wore dark clothing touched with somber hues, the interplay breaking line and form; a crude but effective form of camouflage. He was armed with a spear tipped with vicious barbs and a thin knife of bright steel.
He said, Welcome, strangers, and have no fear. My name is Lowbar.
Beneath his hand the girl faced them, smiling.
There was something furtive about the man, a sly movement of the eyes, a wariness to be expected in someone who lived with fear. And there was a tension in the way he hefted the spear, the manner in which he placed his booted feet as he led the way to a cave. The warm glow of a fire dulled the cold radiance of fungi and a clutter of bedding, bowls, small items made it more of a home than a mere hollow gouged in a wall of stone.
And there was food.
It was what Dumarest had expected; a stew containing scraps of unidentifiable meat, vegetables, a sludge-like thickening. Rats, he guessed, and some of the fungi together with the residue of yeast vats and algae tanks and anything else which could be scavenged. He cleaned the bowl and nodded his thanks when offered another. Food was food and he was too hungry to be squeamish.
'You came at a good time,' said Lowbar. They sat alone, the girl had vanished on business of her own and Kemmer and Santis lay asleep on heaped bedding. 'A worker was careless at one of the utilities and failed to close a valve securely. The sludge attracted rodents. Need I say more?'
Dumarest threw aside a cleaned bone. 'Is the girl your daughter?'
'Ania? No. Only by adoption. Her mother Ran when she was little more than a baby. I found her wandering, almost dead from starvation and other things. She died but the child survived and has been with us ever since.'
'Us?' Dumarest had only seen the two of them. 'There are more?'
'Many more.' Lowbar had shrewd eyes. 'But you knew that. How?'
'You have a fire burning but it is too big for just the two of you. As is this cave. And you have too much bedding, too many bowls-a dozen?'
Lowbar nodded, lying; there had to be at least double that number but Dumarest knew better than to press the matter. A guest should always defer to the whims of his host. He and the others had been made welcome, given water, food, the assurance they could sleep without fear. An offer Dumarest had accepted with reservations. They would continue as they had since leaving the shaft and he had taken the first watch.
Lowbar said, 'Ania is clever and one of the best trackers we have. She has been following you for a long time now. Only when she reported to me that you seemed genuine did I inform her that you would be welcome here. Of course it is possible that she has made a mistake.'
'All things are possible,' admitted Dumarest. 'But if we weren't genuine would we have come unarmed? Without supplies? Without a radio to maintain contact with others? And would we have been at pains to avoid the guards?'
'No,' admitted Lowbar. 'And the facts tell in your favor. You appeared lost.'
'We were lost.' Dumarest added, 'We still are.'
'It often happens. When a person is on the Run they usually get confused. In such a case they are more than willing to side with those who offer their help.'
'You, for example?' As Lowbar made no comment Dumarest continued, 'Did you get help when you needed it?'
'I didn't need it I knew enough to make out for myself.' Lowbar paused, thinking. A pot stood beside the fire and he dipped a bowl into it, handed it to Dumarest and helped himself to another. The liquid was warm, thick, alive with fermenting yeast and strongly alcoholic. 'It must be twenty years ago now. I'd got into debt and the sum had climbed. No fault of my own but you know how it is. They sent me to work at the reactors. My last chance; if I refused or slacked the tribunal would order my eviction.'
'Your execution?'
'Eviction,' corrected Lowbar. 'There is no death penalty on Harge. If evicted it is theoretically possible to survive. No one ever has but the possibility remains. A fine point but it soothes the conscience of those tender in such matters.' He added, bitterly, 'It would be more merciful to kill and have done with it.'
Dumarest agreed. 'And?'
'I Ran. I'd scouted a little first and learned what I could from others. Some of the workers are sympathetic and will help a little, if it doesn't cost them anything. A form of insurance, I suppose, they like to think they have somewhere to run if things get too bad. Anyway, I had some idea of where to go and what to do. I'd cached what supplies I could and when I left I took all I could carry. I was lucky. Other's weren't. Ania's mother, for example. She was caught by a hunting party looking for a little sport and shot twice before managing to get away. That's how they treat you once you've Run. They no longer regard you as human.'
'Shot? With lasers?'
'No. They aren't allowed down here. If we managed to get arms like that the Guard wouldn't be able to touch us. The hunting parties use spears and crossbows-you saw one of their spears. I was carrying it when you arrived. Ania's mother had been hit with bolts in the kidney and lung. She died in my arms. I never even learned her name but the girl takes after her in looks.' He paused then, as Dumarest remained silent, said, 'And you?'
'On the run too,' said Dumarest. 'And we ran straight into trouble. Can you guide us back to the upper levels?'
'Back?' Lowbar frowned, not understanding. 'You want to go back?'
'That's right.'
'But I thought you would join us. Become part of my number.'
'We ran from the prospect of getting into debt,' explained Dumarest. 'And we ran into a storm. We managed to get back into the city through a ventilation shaft-a trick others could try.' He was being honest; Lowbar had too many men within call for it to be wise for him to do anything else. And, aside from his group, there could be others. 'We wandered until Ania found us.'
'A storm?' Lowbar was incredulous. 'Man, nothing can live in a storm!'
'We survived and so could others. We had luck and some help and we beat the system in our way as you did in yours.'
'Help?'
'Help.' Dumarest didn't go into detail, if the man thought they had powerful allies it would do no harm. 'But we have a lot in common. Did you wait to be evicted? Did you just give up? Would you be sitting here now if you had? You survived as we did and that's reason enough to help each other. We need to be guided to the upper levels. And you? What do you need? If you had lasers-'
Lowbar snapped at the bait. 'We could laugh at the guards,' he said excitedly. 'At the bastards who come down to hunt us as if we were vermin. At the workers who hate us because they haven't the guts to join us. Can
