by E. C. Tubb
A thing done with the ease of a hammer crushing an ant, his holdings taken at a cost he could meet, arid lands of small revenue. A liability but he would not hold them for long.
"My lord!" Zao's face on the screen. "I have been following the situation and-"
"Not now, Cyber!"
"I would suggest that-"
The voice died as the image faded, both victims of a broken connection. Kalova sat, fuming, hand shaking as he reached for more pills. Did Zao expect him to come whining to heel? To beg the cyber for his aid and so admit his incapability? Did the man think he was too old to have skill? Too old to fight?
He snarled as, again, he was attacked in the north. Three sectors this time and all high in the hills. Too high for comfort and too close to his private installations to be lost. He triggered responses, outbid the opposition, swore as others took their place. Were they all mad? The price they offered was far in excess of the registered value yet they could not all be fools.
The phone and Lynne Oldrant. "Sector F 37, Maximus. How much?"
The field, now of negative revenue. A liability now; he needed liquid assets and he could always get it back later. The woman blinked at his demand and, reluctantly, shook her head.
"Too high, Maximus. Cut it by a third and it's a deal."
"A quarter."
"Done!"
In his office Zao saw the transaction registered on his repeater display, saw too the sudden flurry of renewed activity in the north. More attacks on the Maximus and, like a reactive animal, he could only respond in one way. An emotional cripple now wrapped in a web of self-deception and incapable of objective detachment.
The woman?
Her rejection had been no more than a trigger and it could have come from any other. A denial of Kalova's self-image of supreme authority. A blow at his ego which, in his mental condition, he had interpreted as an attack on his life. To destroy the woman had become of paramount necessity. Old, failing, such a destruction would give him assurance that he was still capable, still strong.
It was time he should be replaced.
Arment? The logical choice but he was too strong. Helm the same. Chargel, Barracola, even Traske. They would accept his aid and promise all and even keep that promise for a while but, later, their own strength would urge them to rebel.
Fiona Velen?
A choice he had considered before and the new factors recently introduced did not alter the basic premise. She was devoid of a potentially troublesome family, young enough to be malleable, intelligent enough to have held her own since inheriting from Carmodyne. Her association with Dumarest presented no real problem; her own narcissism would diminish his importance.
More activity on the display and Zao rose to his feet. Kalova had to be stopped before it was too late.
The woman guarding his outer office was stubborn. "I am sorry but the Maximus is not to be disturbed. He gave explicit orders to that effect."
"This is an emergency."
"For whom?" She didn't like the cyber and took pleasure in showing it. "If he wants to see you he will send word to that effect."
Time wasting which he could not afford. Zao stepped closer to where she sat, the index finger of his left hand extended to touch her wrist, the sliver of metal carried beneath the nail pressing, breaking the skin, driving the drug it carried into her blood. She was dead before he removed his hand.
"You!" Kalova spun in his chair as Zao approached. "I left orders I was not to be disturbed."
"Which I chose to ignore." Zao glanced at the display, noted the changes made while he had journeyed from his office. The space field had changed hands, sold to Fiona Velen for a handsome profit. Something Kalova had missed in his concentration on the northern attacks.
"Look at them, Cyber!" He gestured at the display with a trembling hand. "Like dogs snapping at a bone. All wanting holdings in the north. The north!"
"Why?"
"It's a plot, that's why. A device to attack me, to bring me down. But they'll pay for it. Every last damned one. I'll see them all down and out!"
As Cran and Sand and Bulem would be next. Sacrificed as a warning to others. Once he had gone they would see sense. Cease their attacks and give him time to rest and consider the situation. Give him a chance to take care of the woman.
"No, my lord! Wait!" Zao had seen what the other had overlooked. "Wait!"
Kalova resented the command and ignored it as he pressed home the attack, smiling as he used all his strength to crush the weakling, laughing aloud as he fell-a laugh cut short as the flashing lights ceased their dancing.
"What's wrong? The display-why has it stopped?"
The answer shone back at him from the steady signals; one too many had been eliminated. Cran, Sand, Bulem-and Kalman whom he'd forgotten. Trading had stopped-and Fiona Velen held the field.
Chapter Fourteen
There was wine but Fiona hadn't needed it; the euphoria of victory filled her with its own intoxication. Now, laughing, she lifted her glass to toast her success.
"To you, Earl, and you, Hart. Victory to us all!"
Wine added ruby to her lips, a moistness to their soft invitation, which was reflected in her eyes. Dumarest recognized the biological heat born of the end of tension, the reaction from strain.
He said, "What happens now?"
"Nothing." Fiona set down her wine. "Kalova made a mistake and so froze the situation. We must have the Gross. We started with one hundred and forty-seven. I took out one and the Maximus the other three. That leaves one hundred and forty-three. One short. There can be no trading, no exchanges, no auctions until the Gross has been restored."
"The way's open for challenges," explained Vardoon. "Usually one is picked but any can go forward. And any holder can be challenged. Of course they can use a champion, but the facts remain." He frowned, looking thoughtful. "You, Earl. Why not you?"
"I'm not of the Orres."
"No. I'd forgotten. A shame-you could have been the next Maximus."
"He still could be." Fiona came close. "Or her consort."
"You?"
"Why not? With your help, Earl. You've shown me how it can be done. Once things get back to normal we can really build up my holding. Kalova's shaken now and if Annent and Helm work with us he won't stand a chance." Her arms lifted to close about his neck. Below his eyes her face was vibrant with imagined power. "The Maximus," she murmured. "The Queen!"
Ambition displayed but he had no interest. His part was over; she retained the church and now held the field. Unless she prevented it there was nothing to stop him from leaving once a ship was available.
"Earl?" Her lips closed the space between themselves and his own. "You will work with me, darling? Advise me? Teach me more of your cunning? Earl, you know how I feel about you. Together we could go so far. Have so much. Stay with me, darling. Be at my side."
The chime of the doorbell saved him from the necessity of an answer. Melvin Bulem, face hard, eyes cold, followed Vardoon into the chamber.
Without preamble he said, "I am ruined-you know that?"
"Melvin, I'm so sorry!" Fiona gushed a false sympathy. "Kalova had no need to destroy you."
"It was your fault." His eyes rested on Dumarest. "You and your lies. Your hints and persuasions. I thought you a friend and treated you as such. Why did you do this to me?"
"You did it to yourself," said Vardoon. He stood a little behind and to one side of the visitor, his hands poised for action. "You let greed blind you. A mistake but you made it. Now stop crying like a baby and blaming others."
Without looking from Dumarest, Bulem said again, "Why did you do this to me?"
To him and to a dozen others, tempting them with the golden lure of ardeel, guiding them down the path he wanted them to take. Warriors persuaded to fight in his cause. Bulem was nothing but an unlucky casualty.
Dumarest said, "Reparation will be made. Fiona, will you see to it? My share of the eggs." To Bulem he added, "With money you can buy you
r way back. Obtain new holdings."
"I trusted you."
"That is why I'm making reparation."
The most he could do but Bulem's hurt was too deep to be assuaged with recompense. He said stiffly, "You are generous and it is appreciated, but you will understand why you are no longer a welcome guest. My house is closed to you."
His house, his brother, the book which could hold the secret he had searched for so many years. The wine Vardoon handed to him held a sour bitterness.
"A fool," said Vardoon as Dumarest lowered the goblet. "But at least he had the guts to meet you face to face. For a moment there I thought he was going to try to kill you."
"Would you have blamed him?"
"No. I'd have felt the same in his place." Vardoon scowled as, again, the door demanded attention. "Who the hell is it this time?"
Bulem had been tense, cold, determined; Kalova was seething with rage. It showed in every gesture, every move. In the darting flicker of his eyes, the continual flexing of the fingers. Small points of froth hung at the corners of his mouth and his eyes held traceries of red.
"You bitch!" He glared at Fiona as he thrust forward into the room. "You cunning, underhanded bitch!"
"Wipe your mouth, Maximus."
"What?"
"You heard what I said. Either talk like a man or get out of my house." She was smiling, confident in her power, the strength her companions gave. What could an old man do against Dumarest and his friend? "This house is my holding," she said. "You have no right here, no authority. If you can't act like a guest, Kalova, then leave."
He had not come alone. Behind him, standing like a tall and silent flame, Zao watched with burning, deep-set eyes. Like a shadow, his acolyte stood to one side. Three men but the cyber held the power.
Fiona sensed it as she had in Dumarest; a radiated aura which set him apart from others, but the two were not the same. Dumarest held the strength of an individual who had long learned to rely on none other than himself. Zao had the confidence of a tremendous organization at his back, the trust in his own abilities, the conviction that what he did was right.
He said, "My lady, I must congratulate you on your ability. The manner of attack was unusual and most effective."
"Lies," snarled Kalova. "The bitch cheated. The fools who attacked me were deluded as to the real worth of the northern holdings. I should have crushed them all!"
As he had crushed Bulem and so halted all operations-the mistake which would kill him.
"The signal, of course, was your own bidding for the selected holdings," continued Zao as if Kalova did not exist. "Those who had been primed followed your lead and the rest was inevitable." Emotive children driven by greed and imagination. The mere fact that someone wanted something was evidence to them that it had to be of value. Supply and demand. Crazed bidding and a form of hysteria too common to any society founded on financial manipulation. And Dumarest had instigated the debacle. "I have a suggestion, my lady, which you may find of interest."
Dumarest said, "Talk to him later, Fiona. After I have gone."
Zao turned, met his eyes, looked again at the woman. "It would not be wise to delay. Opportunities should be seized when available or else another may gain the prize."
A threat she recognized and what harm would it do to talk?
"Later, Fiona. Talk-"
"Hush, Earl!" She smiled at him as if he were an impatient child then looked again at the tall figure in scarlet. "He is eager to celebrate my success," she explained, "but a pleasure deferred is a pleasure doubled-or so I have been told. Why don't you make some tisane, Earl? Take your friend with you-I'm sure that what the cyber has to say can be of little interest to either of you."
She frowned as neither moved-a reaction noted and assessed by Zao. As he had predicted, the woman relished the taste of power and was already forgetting who had given her the present victory. But for Dumarest she would have been in Bulem's position.
Kalova said, "I came to warn you, bitch! As Maximus I'm calling a full, extraordinary meeting of all holders to discuss the events of the past few hours. You are guilty of cheating, misrepresentation, collusion, conspiracy, the use of bribes and the employing of outside agents. I don't think there will be much opposition to my suggestion that the situation be restored to what it was before the last adjustments took place. A day," he added. "Perhaps two. We could even go back to the time before your lover took an interest."
"You can't do that."
"No? That's what you think."
"That's what I know!" Her tone was sharp. "You're talking of custom, not law. Just because it hasn't been polite to do what you accuse me of doesn't mean it isn't allowed. To win, Maximus, that's the only real law. To win!"
"And to continue to win, my lady." Zao's tone was a contrast to the raised voices. "That is what I'd hoped to talk about with you. A new Maximus will be subjected to tremendous pressures from other aspirants to the title and will need all the help available. You may, naturally, feel you do not need such help, in which case I will be free to offer my services elsewhere."
Another threat, this time more open; either she employed Zao or he would work for another and, if he did, what then of her power?
She said slowly, "Let there be no mistake about this, Cyber. You are offering to help me become the Maximus?"
"Exactly so, my lady."
"And Kalova?"
A fool who would have been dead by now if it hadn't been for the woman who'd guarded his office. Two deaths within minutes, both of apparent cardiac arrest, both with a common factor, was to invite unwanted suspicion. And, always, had been the chance of his making an adjustment with Fiona. One irretrievably lost as he grasped just what Zao was proposing.
"Her? That bitch in my place?"
Zao said, "I give you notice, my lord, that the Cyclan has terminated the services provided on your behalf as agreed. If you accept, my lady, I am now in your employ."
To stand at her side, to take what she had and use his talent to build it into a commanding whole. To make her the largest holder-the Maximus. But what would be his price?
He said, in answer to her blunt question, "The man at your side, my lady. Earl Dumarest."
The display had stilled but color shifted in the mirrors adorning the walls; the shift of scarlet as Zao turned, a gleam from the acolyte, the sheen of lavender and gold, of emerald and amber from Kalova, the dull hues of Vardoon, the gray of his own clothing. Tints which grew by repeated reflection. A frame for the golden mane of the woman's hair, the warm velvet of her skin, the ebon of her gown.
Death in a rounded form.
She wouldn't know it or care if she did. Dumarest had no illusion; the bribe offered was too tempting for her to resist. To become the Maximus! The ultimate achievement of her world.
Vardoon said, frowning, "You want Earl? What the hell for?"
"That is none of your concern. My lady?"
An illusion of dependence was skillfully maintained but Dumarest knew its real worth. One way or another Zao was determined to hold him fast. If he could continue in his position on this world then he would do so but, if he had to kill them all besides Dumarest he would do it without hesitation.
"My lady?"
"A moment," she said. "I need to think. You want Earl- but why?"
"A matter of justice, my lady. He needs to answer for crimes committed against the Cyclan."
That was the explanation given to Kalova, which he hadn't bothered to give Vardoon. But still Fiona hesitated.
"A prisoner? You want to lock him in a cage? I'm not sure I can let you do that. But-" Gold filled the mirrors as she shook her head, her hair falling from the restraining band. "Give me time."
Seconds which could stretch to minutes at the most. Time which must not be wasted. As she began to pace the floor Dumarest checked the room, the people in it.
The chamber was large and made to appear larger by the mirrored walls. Fiona took ten long strides to cover it from one end to another,
the long, smooth contours of her thigh flashing through the slit in her skirt. Small tables stood by the walls bearing various ornaments. The furnishings were sparse, some chairs, a couch, a tall vase filled with crystalline blooms. Doors to the other rooms were hidden in reflective deception. A warm, snug, tight and windowless room. One turning into a cell.
Vardoon shifted a little where he stood behind Dumarest and a little to one side. The man would be neutral if not an active ally. The acolyte, watchful, had his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his robe. He was armed, one hand on a gun, ready to defend his master in case of need but he would hesitate before opening fire. Kalova stood with his back to a wall, mouth parted, eyes glazed. The sound of his breathing rose above the soft scuff of the woman's sandals; a ragged gasping with held liquid susurations. A man tottering on the edge of control, stunned by recent events, a victim of rage and fear about to collapse or explode. One of his hands was buried in a pocket, the other hung limp at his side. Fiona?
She turned and walked to the center of the room to pause and look at Dumarest.
"Earl-I'm sorry."
He said urgently, "Fiona, give me a chance. Wait for a few days. A ship's due and I can leave on it."
A plea to gain time and fire the Maximus's rage, so he could utilize to the full his one, single advantage. Zao did not want him dead and would have impressed that on his acolyte. Even so he could be maimed, burned, blinded and rendered helpless. But to determine that would take an extra split second of aim; force an added assessment.
Vardoon rumbled, "After what he's done, girl, it doesn't seem too much to ask."
"You'll be the new Maximus," said Dumarest. "With Zao to help you how can you fail? Kalova will be no problem. He'll be dead before we leave this room. Why leave him to make trouble? A few days, darling. Just give me a few days."
"Dead?" Kalova seemed to be choking. "Dead?"
