fitted with controls at one end, a rail around the body which would hold a padded seat. If there was a protective canopy, it was folded back. The body holding the antigrav units was equipped with landing skids, and the sound of the engine powering the units was a soft humming purr.
It would be holding one man at least, the driver. Then, as he caught a blur of movement, Dumarest revised his figures. Two men, including the driver. The head he had seen toward the rear of the craft could not have belonged to the man at the controls.
'Two men.' Bochner had also spotted the movement. 'Either that's all there are or the rest are lying low. In which case, we could have a problem.'
'Earl?' Dilys had heard and looked questioningly at Dumarest. 'What does he mean?'
'Nothing. Just wave and call out.'
To act the person in distress and to reveal the fact that she was a woman. Bait, if those who could be lurking inside the raft were scavengers; men who would kill for the sake of what they could steal. A good reason for landing if those within the vehicle were not the honest rescuers she thought.
The craft dropped lower, slowed, passed over them to swing in a wide circle over the sea before returning to settle gently on the edge of the summit.
Two men only, one at the controls, the other sitting in the body of the raft. A tall man, wearing dull fabrics and a peaked cap. One Bochner recognized. Caradoc, in disguise.
Oddly, he wasn't surprised.
The cyber glanced at him, then at the others. 'Trouble?'
'Yes.' Dumarest stepped toward the raft. 'Our ship crashed and we're lucky to be alive. Can you take us to safety?'
'Of course.' The smooth, even modulation held no hesitation. 'Are there others besides yourselves?'
'No.' Dumarest glanced at the man seated at the controls. Young, his face devoid of expression, hands resting on his knees. They were slim, with delicate fingers, the nails neatly rounded. He wore a loose robe of coarse brown material, the sleeves wide, the garment held by a cincture at the waist. 'How did you know we were here? Did you pick up our signal?'
'Yes,' said Caradoc.
'So we were lucky. A gamble which paid off.' Dumarest added casually, 'Did you have to travel far?'
'Twelve hours.'
A thousand miles, at the usual touring speed of a raft and the rotation of Hyrcanus, was fast. They must have started out before the signal had been sent from the peak.
'A long time,' said Dumarest. 'It was good of you to take the trouble. Do you have any other business this way?'
'No.'
'So you just picked up our signal and came straight to the rescue?' Dumarest glanced at the bundle within the raft. 'Carrying survival gear, too, I see.'
'An elementary precaution,' said Caradoc. 'Our action seems to disturb you. Why?'
Bochner could have told him and he stood, fuming, at the idiocy of the man. Even a young and inexperienced cyber should be aware that men did nothing without hope of reward. Certainly not the men living on worlds such as this. Fuel had to be paid for. The expense of the raft met. Time and energy expended in another's behalf had to be compensated for. At the very least, Caradoc should have asked what the party was prepared to pay for transportation. And Dumarest had been shrewd-that question as to the signal!
The answer had been as good as a confession.
'Disturb me?' Dumarest smiled and shook his head, lifting his hands as if to display their emptiness. Neither of the men in the raft were armed, as far as he could see. Another anomaly-but the wide sleeves of the robe the driver wore could cover more than wrists and arms. 'Just the reverse. I am more pleased to see you than you can imagine. We are all pleased to see you. The alternative-' He broke off with a shrug. 'Can you take us all aboard?'
'Unfortunately, that is not possible,' said Caradoc. 'The distance to be covered is long and we developed a fault which has lessened our load capacity. I can take one now, and make arrangements for the rest to be picked up later. You.' He pointed at Dumarest. 'I shall take you.'
'No!' Bochner stepped forward, fighting to control his anger. The quarry was his and, he realized, now his only assurance of safety. Once the cyber had Dumarest, he would have no further use for the hunter. 'Take me with you,' he urged. 'You can dump the survival gear, if you have to lighten the raft. Take me, too!'
A message made as plain as he dared if he hoped to maintain his pretense. And if Caradoc should betray him- what? To face Dumarest with naked blades? To attack and beat the cyber and his acolyte and, somehow, hold the quarry for later delivery?
Thoughts which spun and stilled as the cyber said, 'That would be illogical. True, the possibility of an accident is small but, nevertheless, it exists. Without the survival gear we should be taking an unnecessary risk.'
Dumarest said quickly, 'Bochner! Hit them! Now!'
He was at the raft before the hunter had moved, reaching for the cyber, freezing as the driver whipped his hand into his sleeve and sent a beam of searing heat to pass a foot before his eyes. Another shot from the laser fused stone at Bochner's foot, a third sent smoke rising from crisped and incinerated hair.
'Yvan! Up!'
A touch and the raft had lifted, to hang poised in the air four feet from the edge of the summit and three above the uppermost level. From his vantage point Caradoc looked down at the group below.
Dumarest-the man the Cyclan had hunted for so long, now within his grasp. If Bochner had not spoken he would have been helpless now, drugged into unconsciousness by the hypogun clipped beneath the rail. And yet, would he have walked into the trap? Caradoc remembered the questions, the looks, the final command.
How had he known?
Bochner could have told him, but the hunter was at Dumarest's side, beating the last of the embers from his hair.
'They shot at us, Earl. Why, for God's sake?'
'The tall man's a cyber. The other is his acolyte. He didn't shoot to kill.'
'I could argue that.' Bochner touched his seared hair. 'Are you sure that man's a cyber?'
'I'm sure.' The tone, the lack of human curiosity, the failure to act as normal men would have acted. And the last, cold calculation which, coupled with his instinctive reaction, left no doubt.
'So, where does that leave us?' Bochner stared at the raft. A jump and he could reach it, but if the acolyte fired he would be dead when he did. And the man would fire, and had already shown his skill with the weapon now carried openly in his hand. 'He could kill us, Earl. Burn us down.'
All, but not Dumarest. He could be crippled, laser fire directed against his knees and elbows to leave him helpless. Injuries which would leave his brain and the secret it held intact.
Caradoc said, 'A bargain, Dumarest I guarantee the safety of the rest if you will agree to accompany us.'
A bargain from which he would gain nothing. Dumarest looked at the raft, the acolyte standing at the controls, the tall figure of the cyber at the rear of the vehicle. They were too tense, too alert, for any plan he might make to have any chance of success.
'I don't know you,' he said. 'Your name?' He nodded when Caradoc gave it. 'You are young but are obviously clever. You should rise high and become a power in the Cyclan. My capture alone will assure that.'
'You admit defeat?'
'Can I admit anything else?' Dumarest's shrug was visible evidence of his acceptance of the situation. 'But I'm curious as to how you managed to trace me. It couldn't have been easy.'
'A matter of simple application.'
'For you, perhaps, but far from simple to anyone else. And after the Entil was wrecked? How could you have possibly known we would have reached this planet?' No cyber could be flattered, but Dumarest knew of the single pleasure they could experience, that of mental achievement. Caradoc was young, and had already shown a certain carelessness. If he could be persuaded to talk, to relax a little, and the acolyte with him-it would be the only chance he would get.
He nodded as the cyber explained; the emergency signals received, plotted, a line traced to Hyrcanus-work
