A desperate hope and a futile one. Vaclav recognized it as he withdrew his hand from the communicator. No matter what was promised his life was still forfeit. Knowing of Dumarest and his value to the Cyclan they would assume he knew the secret he held. And he had been in the room with the others. Avro's room with the mysterious knowledge it held which must never be revealed. The reason for Kooga's death and his own. Two out of three with only Mirza left.
Soon the bitch too would be dead!
A moment of gratification then it vanished in a deeper anger. She was what she was but the cybers were something else. Killers without emotion, manipulators, devoid of mercy or tolerance or sensitivity. Using death as a convenient instrument. Red swine who had taken his life. To cheat them was now his only revenge.
The communicator beckoned but he rose; who knew what tendrils might lie in his department? It was better to play it safe and he left the office, the building, moving quickly down the street to a public phone. Punching the number, snarling at the delay, curt in his demand when, finally, the screen came to life.
"Get me Mirza Karroum!"
"But-"
"Get her, damn you! Chief Vaclav here! Move!" A pause, a time of nothingness, then her face appeared, hard, cold, impatient. "Listen!" He spoke before she could protest. "Kooga's dead and I'm dying. You could be next." He told her why. "They know nothing about Dumarest but they want him. He could be an ally. In any case you need to watch yourself. Agents could be left to take care of you."
A girl brushed past him as he left the booth, young, well-made, with wanton, inviting eyes. A sight he ignored, looking instead at the street, the houses, the traffic, the bowl of the sky which covered all. Things more precious now than ever before and he drank them as if to store memories against another time.
How long?
The curse of knowledge which all men had but most managed to forget. The fact of inevitable death but, for him, it was close. Reaching for him at this very moment, touching him, causing a shiver to run up his spine. Had Kooga sensed what was happening? Known, too late, that he was dying? Would there be time for him to reach the grave where his love lay buried?
He began to walk, faster, faster, breaking into a run. To halt as the light seemed to flicker. To fall as it died.
In their way the Cyclan had been kind. There was no pain, no terror, just a soft darkness on which two faces were portrayed in a golden light. Luccia's and next to her the boy. Smiling as she was smiling, as he had always smiled but, now, there was no emptiness in his eyes.
* * *
The valley looked different than it had before but then it had been night and now it was bright with the glory of a dying day. Beauty Mirza Karroum did not appreciate and she sent the raft down to land with a jar which shook her teeth. At the door Chenault was waiting, hand lifted in greeting, a salutation she ignored, brushing past him into the hall.
"You made good time," he said, following her. "I didn't really expect you until tomorrow."
"Where's Dumarest?"
"With some of the others in-"
"Send him out here to me." She glared her impatience. "Now. We must talk in private."
"He's busy."
"And I've no time to waste. What I have to tell him is important. He won't thank you for delaying our meeting. Now move, man! Move!"
She prowled the hall, trying to gain comfort from what she saw; rocks and boulders and writhing streaks of mineral color all forming the illusion of an entrancing grotto. But it didn't appeal and she turned as Dumarest came toward her, hands lifting as if to embrace him, lowering as she realized the incongruity of the gesture.
She said, bluntly, "You're in danger. The Cyclan has men on Lychen."
He said nothing but she saw the slight tensing of his body; the reactive response of nerve and muscle as if he had readied himself for a fight. Things another would have missed but she noted them as she sensed the subtle change in his attitude. Before the news he had been a man tall, calm, smiling a greeting. Now he was an animal, sharply aware, questing with mind and sinew the danger he recognized.
"They came for Avro," she explained. "He told me where to find you."
"How?" He nodded as she explained. "And?"
"Kooga's dead. Vaclav too. Cardiac failure so they said but I don't believe them. Both were murdered. Vaclav knew he was going to die and warned me to be careful. He thought I was to be the next victim. He suggested that you could be an ally."
He said, "Do they know I'm here?"
"No. Not unless Avro's told them and I can't think he did. He was in a coma and will be in a cryogenic sac by now. Vaclav destroyed the evidence. They don't know you're here, Earl." Pausing, she added, "Not yet."
Two words which told him the situation and he looked at her, seeing the hard face, the eyes to match, the rigid line of chin and jaw. A woman almost twice his age and one determined to survive. "Betraying me to the Cyclan won't help you," he said. "You'd still follow the others and for the same reason. As a precaution against your talking to others about something you may have learned about the Cyclan."
"But there's nothing! I swear it!" She fought to remain calm. "But I can never prove that and they'll never take my word. Earl! What can I do?"
"Run."
"What?"
"Leave Lychen. Travel to other worlds and keep moving. Get lost if you can. Trust no one and say nothing. Make no commitments, no friends, have no ambitions. Learn to be always alone." His voice was bitter from personal experience. "In time they might accept the fact that you know nothing and call off the chase. If you stay here you're dead. Tomorrow, next week, the month after-the Cyclan never gives up."
"But if you were with me? Guarding me?" She saw his expression and shook her head as she recognized the impossibility of gaining total protection. "No. It wouldn't work. You're right, Earl, I'll have to run-but you come with me."
"I can't."
"I don't want to betray you but-"
"I can't," he said again. "I'm going with Chenault. An expedition. There's no point in arguing. I'm going."
"I'll come with you." She had spoken on impulse but it made sense. "Where's Chenault?"
He sat alone in a room bright with flowers, papers scattered on the table before him, a pile of books to one side. Old books which filled the air with the scent of dust and dulled the sweetness of the blooms.
He frowned as he heard Mirza's demand.
"No."
"Why not? I can help. How did you intend to travel?"
"I've a ship."
"Where? What? Your own working as a trader or one you intend to charter? Whatever it is I've a better one waiting on the field at this moment. The Kasse. I can have it ready to leave by midnight."
"I won't be ready by then."
"Get ready. What do you need? Supplies? Goods? Weapons? Give me a list and I'll have them loaded from the Karroum warehouse. Damn it, man, why do you hesitate? I've the ship, the supplies, the crew-"
"No crew," said Chenault. "I'll use my own."
"Why? Who do you have?" She glanced at Dumarest then back at Chenault. "What's the mystery?"
Dumarest waited then, as the silence lengthened, he said, "Tell her."