Incident on Ath

Chapter Twelve

Tuvey was gruff. He said, "Here you are, my lady, safe to your door. No revolutionaries can get you now."

Sardia forced herself to smile at the weak joke. Cornelius, despite his promise, had failed to join her and the captain had escorted her home. Now he stood, a little awkward, arm lifted as his fingers searched for his missing pet. He noticed her eyes and lowered his hand.

"I miss him," he said simply. "Borol wasn't much to look at but he was company of a kind. The sort which doesn't make demands. You know?"

"Yes, Captain, I know."

"A man needs a companion in space. Something or someone who can be close. Some men travel together most of their lives but I've never met anyone with whom I could be that friendly. It makes a difference."

To a man and to a ship-the Sivas had been cold with a chill owing nothing to the lack of heat. Sardia said, "I mustn't detain you. Your hostess will be looking for me with daggers if she thinks I'm keeping you from her side."

"Etallia?" His shrug was eloquent. "We're used to each other and that's about all. She knows better than to be jealous."

"No woman knows that, Captain."

"And not all women can tolerate a man as ugly as I am." He was stating a fact, not fishing for a compliment. "I know it and she knows I know it. Knows, too, that I can't afford to be independent while on Ath. That's something Renzi has yet to learn. The stupid bastard!"

"His mouth?"

"His damned carelessness. Borol didn't like him-he used to tease the beast when I wasn't around. I would have kept him with me but Etallia wouldn't hear of it. So I left him in the control room. I guessed he liked to be put on guard and he was snug enough in his box but Renzi had to go after him. He must have tormented the poor creature and it tried to run." He added savagely, "He'll pay for a new radio and compensate me for the loss of my pet before I get rid of him. I swear to that!"

"The radio was Renzi's doing?"

"Yes. He confessed earlier this evening while we watched the gambling. The fool was high and thought it a joke. I'll give him a joke. If he ever lands on this world again it won't be on my ship." Tuvey swallowed and lifted his hand in a brisk salute; one learned half a galaxy away when young. "I've kept you standing out here long enough. Good night, madam."

"Good night, Captain."

Politeness which held a cold formality, the formality itself a sense of security. Rules by which people chose to live; a custom which could be appreciated and a discipline which provided support as well as barriers. Did the Choud have something similar? Were there areas of privacy into which none could intrude without condemnation?

Why had Cornelius broken his word?

The answer was in the studio and she paused at the door seeing the figure slumped in the chair before the easel and feeling a sharp anxiety before she noticed the rise and fall of his chest, heard the susurration of ragged breathing.

"Cornelius!" He was asleep, sunk in a numbing exhaustion, not even the slap of her palm against his cheek enough to arouse him. "Cornelius, wake up!" Again she slapped the flaccid cheek. "Wake up!"

"Who-" He stirred, one hand lifting, the fingers thickly smeared with paint. "What-"

"Wake up!" Spirit stood close at hand. She gushed it on a rag and held the rising vapors beneath his nostrils. "Cornelius! Please!"

He stirred again, the hand blindly groping, eyelids twitching. She thrust the rag beneath his nose, the sting of the spirit against delicate membranes an added stimulus, then, as he reared a little, kissed him full on the lips.

"Sardia!" He rose higher to sit upright, his arms closing around her. "Sardia, my darling!"

The kiss had been a wind kindling latent desire to a dancing flame. She felt it as she retreated, sensed her own response, and rose to step backward well away from his reach.

"You promised to join me. What happened?"

"I was working and must have lost track of time." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I feel exhausted. The box. Pass me that box."

She handed it to him and watched as he opened it to reveal swollen yellow pods. He lifted one and slipped it into his mouth, biting, leaning back as he chewed. The transformation was amazing, within seconds the muscles of his face had firmed, the flaccidity born of fatigue washed away together with his fatigue.

"Tekoa," he said. "At times it helps. Helps you to relax, that is. Helps you to drift and think and plan and see everything in bright colors." Fatigue had given way to euphoria and he sensed it. With an effort he added, "I don't use it often."

"Would it matter if you did?"

"Perhaps not but-" He broke off, giggling, becoming abruptly sober again. "I'm sorry. It hits you like this sometimes. The contrast-don't worry about it. I'll get over it soon."

She said nothing, staring at the easel, the canvas it supported, the picture he had painted since she had seen him last.

Herself?

She stepped closer, looking at the figure, a female, seated on plain boards, one knee lifted, the face resting on the summit of the curve. A woman dressed in a soiled costume with tinsel wings drooping like the tattered vanes of a butterfly, the body-garment accentuating the tired drag of breasts and stomach. A dancer as she could tell from the shoes. And it was so real.

Leaning closer she could smell the greasepaint, the odor of dried sweat, the female exudations caught and held by the fabric of the costume. Feel, too, the rough boards beneath her buttocks, the aching fatigue, the depression. The performance was over, the audience gone, the lights dimmed and now she sat alone. A woman who had danced the part of an angel. One now fallen. One soiled and dirtied and conscious of her state.

Herself?

She had sat before the window, tall, gracious, the light warm on the smooth contours of her body. Her head had been high, the chin uplifted in proud grace, the lips carefully arranged in a smile-and Cornelius had been unable to freeze the picture with his genius. Instead, after she had gone, he had created his own interpretation. A dancer, soiled, degraded, disconsolate — was that how he saw her?

She looked even more carefully and more details sprang to life. The barely seen lines on the face which gave it an air of corruption. The eyes which told of cynicism. The lips which told of standards lost never to be regained. Even the curve of the fingers had been made to resemble claws avid in their greed. A woman who had sold herself for ambition. Who had accepted compromise and the use to which her body could be put. The face of a cheat, a liar, a thief, a whore.

Her face.

Sardia turned and ran from the studio, crying, feeling naked and ashamed.

The guard was young, confident of his ability and impatient to be getting on with the job. The leader of a score of others, all young men of the Choud taking their turn of duty and excited at the prospect of interesting action.

Dumarest said, "Be sure and check the walls, floors and roof. Don't forget the outside of the roof as well as the inner rafters. Check every item of furniture. If you find anyone who insists on staying in bed then move him and search the bedding. Even if they are sick move them just the same. You understand?"

"We know what to do."

"I hope so. Look into cupboards, cabinets, cradles. Check toys and boxes and privies. Don't forget the people; watch their eyes as you search. A glance could give you a lead."

Again the man said, "Leave it to us. We know what to do."

A confidence Dumarest didn't share. Though young and confident they would lack experience but he had done all he could. As they moved off into the darkness Ursula said, "If you're wrong, Earl, I'll be the laughing stock of Ath."

"And if I'm not?"

He saw the answer in her eyes, the sudden warmth which accompanied the touch of her hand. She would be grateful; no member of the Choud wanted to be host to a fool, and in her gratitude she would tell him what he needed to know.

"Earl, let's go inside. It's getting chill." She shivered beneath the cloak she had flung over her shoulders.

"Pre-dawn adventures are all right for men wearing heavy garments but I'm not fond of hardship. Let us go into the house and you can share my bath and we can talk of your past exploits."

"I'd rather be with the guards."

"I know. You men are like boys. You want action and incident and the fun of giving orders. And you want to be proved right, Earl. But there is nothing you can do more than what is being done. All exits from the area have been sealed, the region cut into sections and already the first divisions are being checked. If explosives are there the guards will find them."

Dumarest frowned, the decision to search had been recent, how had men been moved into position so quickly? He hadn't even heard them alerted.

Then, remembering the crossbow, he said, "I hope they aren't stupid enough to underestimate the Ohrm. They have weapons which can kill."

Weapons they were willing to use. Dumarest heard the scream as they moved across the lawn toward the house and felt Ursula stiffen at his side. It came again, a long, wailing shriek which ended in an ugly gurgle. The sound torn from a man with punctured lungs who had tried to run and had fallen to scream his pain before blood had filled his throat.

"They were waiting," he said. "And ready."

"For what?"

"The guards, the search, they expected it." He looked up toward the ridge, seeing moving points of light against the sky. "They could be coming down here to attack the city."

"No, those lights belong to the guards. They will protect us." She clung to his arm. "No, Earl! Stay here with me!"

"And listen as they die?" Another scream had seared the night. "Don't those fools know enough to stay under cover?"

She followed him as he ran up the winding path leading to the summit, falling back, joining him as he slowed and halted at the crest. Guards stood in line, armed, portable lights standing dark but ready and aimed toward the homes of the Ohrm lying sprawled below.

"Get those lights working," snapped Dumarest. "Keep them high in order to illuminate the roofs. Aim them lower and you'll make easy targets of your companions. What happened?"

A man glanced at Ursula who nodded.

"The search had started and seemed quiet enough, then some women started acting up. As we pressed into another section one of our men was hit."

"With what?"

"An arrow. He fell and we didn't know what had happened at first then another got it. You may have heard his scream."

"And?"

"Two more followed, one is dead and the other close to it. We got them out and scattered." He squinted as the portables flashed into life. "We were going to wait until dawn."

"That's what they wanted you to do." Dumarest looked at the vista revealed by the lights. Some of the roofs had crude parapets built of stone and bags of dirt. "Were any other weapons used aside from the crossbows?"

"No."

"Which doesn't mean they haven't got any. Right, have the men split into pairs and operate as teams. One to cover the other-you understand?"

"Yes, but wouldn't teams of three be more efficient? Two to cover and one to move?"

"And if one gets hit?" Dumarest didn't wait for an answer. "Use pairs. They can double up if necessary but each knows that he has to rely on the other and will be that much more attentive. Keep those lights on the roofs to dazzle snipers if they are present. Have men watch the strong points on the houses but don't fire unless they are occupied. Can you contact those searching?"

"Of course."

"Tell them to keep at it but to stay in groups and to be doubly alert. And have them look for a man named Balain."

"Balain? But-"

"That's a common name, Earl," interrupted Ursula. "It could belong to any of a hundred men even if it is genuine."

"He could be down there. Can't your scanners pick him out? Once we have him located we can go in after him." He saw the shake of her head. "No?"

"The scanners are all inoperative now. They must have blocked the terminals." She inhaled, breath hissing over her teeth. "Why are they doing this? Why?"

"Blocking the scanners?" Dumarest echoed his impatience. "Isn't that obvious? They don't want you to know what they're doing. My guess is that the leaders are arranging to escape under cover of a diversion. Had we waited for dawn they would have had plenty of time in which to vanish. As it is we could have them trapped." To the guard he said, "Make sure the area is surrounded and illuminated. If anyone tries to leave he is to be held for questioning. And tell the searchers to hurry."

As he turned away Ursula said, "I wasn't talking about the scanners, Earl. What I can't understand is why the Ohrm are rebelling against us? We've never done them any harm."

He said dryly, "Maybe they've grown tired of your telling them how to run their lives. It happens."

"Not here, Earl, it can't. It's-well, you don't understand."

"Try me."

"It's knowledge. They don't have it. They-" She broke off as a guard called from where he stood beside alight.

"They've found something! The explosives I think!"

The room was in a house set well within the complex; a bleak chamber, undecorated aside from crude patterns scrawled on the walls, illuminated by a single fluorescent tube. In the cold light Dumarest looked at a table, a bed, two chairs. The bed had been dragged from the corner to reveal a cavity gouged in the floor beneath. Boxes filled the opening.

"They're empty." A guard kicked at one with his boot. "All empty."

Dumarest kneeled and picked one up and turned it in his hands. It was small, the construction strong, the walls thick and padded with a synthetic quilting on the inside. He sniffed at it and ran a finger over the interior.

"Well?" Ursula was impatient. "Is. that what we were looking for?"

"Yes, but we've arrived too late." Dumarest rose, dropping the box. "They've gone and taken the stuff with them."

"They could still be in the area."

"No. That guard we heard scream and the others who were killed must have run into the rebels making their escape. That's why they had to die. If the men had been in position a little earlier-" But it was useless to regret what could not be altered. "Who lives here?"

"Lived." The guard was precise. "Masak."

"Alone?" Dumarest studied the room with greater care. Even if not married he could have shared with a friend and certainly fellow conspirators would have spent time with him." The hollow holding the boxes proved that; one man would have needed help to gouge it out and dispose of the dirt. The boxes too would have required more than one to carry. "Are there other rooms attached?"

A kitchen and bathroom comprised the whole. A single person's accommodation as decided by the Choud. Dumarest had known worse.

"Find out who lives in the adjoining rooms," he said. "Get them. Don't frighten them but bring them here to me." As the guards left he moved to touch the walls. They echoed when he rapped them and he guessed they were of hollow brick coated with plaster. He said, "We have a chance, Ursula. These walls are thin and it's possible that others could have heard what was being said in here."

A small chance and one which dwindled as he questioned those brought to him. An old man who lived on the kitchen side and who was almost totally deaf. A woman who lived to the rear of the bedroom and who had a baby at her breast.

"Sometimes I'd hear things," she admitted. "Laughter and cheering and when I did I'd bang on the wall. Lately I've been busy with the child."

Too busy as was the young man who lived in the rooms against the bedroom.

"I'm out a lot," he said. "Working in the fields and when I get back home I'm too tired to do much more than sleep. I didn't hear anything and I don't know what went on."

"Failure, Earl," said Ursula as the man left. "There's no one else."

"One more," he corrected. "The rooms back of the bedroom aren't exactly in line. They're offset a little and the corner of one overlaps this chamber. We've still a chance."

One which faded as he saw the person who occupied the room. An old woman who blinked and cringed and backed as he stepped forward to take her arm.

"Relax, mother," he soothed. "No one is going to hurt you."

"Men," she said in a thin, dry voice. "Running and pushing people about and all that screaming. It wasn't like this in the old days. I lived in a bigger place then with Arold and my two sons. They've gone now and only I'm left." She sucked at her lips. "Should have left me," she said. "That was my house. They should have let me keep it."

"It was too large for you," said Ursula. "How could you have kept it clean?"

Logic which had no place in the old woman's world. She glared and turned away then halted as Dumarest stepped before her.

"They made a mistake, mother," he said. "You'll get your house back if you can help us. Now, let's play a little game. If this were your bedroom, where would your bed be positioned?" He nodded as she pointed. "The head against the wall, eh?"

"In the corner, mister. Where else?"

"And you need a lot of rest. At your age that's to be expected."

"I'm not too old to clean!"

"No, I'm sure you're not, but you like to go to bed early, right? And sleep."

"When I can," she grumbled. "When the noise lets me. All that scraping-why don't they do something about the rats?"

"Scraping," said Dumarest. "You heard a lot of scraping. When? Yesterday?"

"Days ago-I can't remember."

"And talking?"

"That too. Some people have no consideration for an old woman. If Arold and my sons were alive they'd have put a stop to it. Up half the night and sometimes until dawn. Talking and laughing and singing, too, at times. Young villains! Someone should do something about people like that."

"We're going to," promised Dumarest. "When we find them. Now listen carefully, mother. Did you hear them a little while ago?"

"Yes. Bumping and banging and arguing. One of them had a loud voice and my head was against the wall."

"One of them? How many were there?"

"I don't know. Several, I think. One was called Balain. He was the one with the loud voice and he seemed to be giving the orders. Am I going to get my old house back? I can keep it clean."

"Yes," said Dumarest. "That's a promise." Gently he took the thin shoulders in his hands and looked into the faded eyes. "Now just one more thing, mother. Think carefully and tell me if Balain or any of the others said what they were going to do or where they were going."

"Into the city. They were going into the city."

"Among the Choud? And?"

"Get hurry."

"What?"

"Hurry," said the old woman impatiently. "The man with the loud voice said they had to get hurry. That's all I know. When do I get my house, Mister?"

Ursula said, after she had gone, "A waste of time, Earl. The old woman was almost senile. The men are probably far into the plains by now."

"What would they do with explosives in the plains? How would that destroy the Choud?"

"They can't destroy us, Earl."

A confidence he didn't share. Balain would have known what he was doing and speed would be important, but hurry? Get hurry? How could hurry be a target? Not hurry, then, but a word like it. One distorted by the wall and the onset of sleep. Urry? Huri?

Hury!

He said, "They're after Hury. Can they get it?"

"No." Ursula was positive. "It is guarded and there is Only one way to reach it."

"Only one way? In a city? You really believe that?"

"Earl-"

"The sewers, Ursula! They're using the sewers!"