* * *
Credit Debutin had branches scattered throughout the Burdinnion and that on Yuanka occupied a prominent position on the main plaza. Dumarest waited outside as Angado entered, looking at the shops ringing the area, the familiar figure standing outside the casino. Brother Lloyd, somber in his robe, a bowl of chipped plastic in his hand, was busy collecting alms.
A good position, as he knew; gamblers were superstitious when it came to luck. A coin on entering could placate the goddess of fortune and if you were successful another was her just tribute. Even losers dropped a coin in the bowl in the hope of bettering future chances.
"Earl!" Angado came from the bank, his face drawn. "I don't understand it," he said. "I just don't understand it."
"No money?"
"No, but-"
"Leave it." A cafe stood to one side and Dumarest led the way toward it. At a table he ordered a pot of tisane and waited until it had been served and poured before looking at his companion. "No money," he said. "Did they tell you why?"
"Yes, but it's crazy. The account's been stopped. I can't understand it. The arrangement was plain; I can draw at any branch of Credit Debutin against the family account. Five thousand ryall a month. That's Lychen currency," he explained. "It's converted to local."
"How many zobars would that be?"
"Over ten thousand." Angado met Dumarest's eyes. "I told you I had money."
Dumarest said, "Have you an account? A credit balance?" His right hand moved toward his left forearm checking as he halted the subconscious gesture. "Any money at all?"
"Only what we split." Angado looked helplessly at the tisane. "I can't understand it. Perotto gave me his word and there's never been any difficulty before. Just my name, thumb-print and code number and the cash is handed over." His hand clenched, slammed down on the table with force enough to send tisane slopping from the cups. "What the hell's going on?"
The waitress came from within the cafe, attracted by the noise, frowning at the mess. Dumarest dropped coins on the table. "For your trouble," he explained. "Would you bring me a sheet of notepaper? Nothing special, a leaf from a book will do."
The paper was thick, rough, jagged down one edge. Dumarest placed it on the table before Angado.
"Write me a promissory note. It's a gambling debt for five hundred and date it before we were dumped. No," he amended. "Earlier than that. Before you took passage on the Thorn."
"When I was on Tysa?"
"That'll do." Dumarest took the paper when Angado had finished. He folded it, opened it, dropped it on the ground and trod on it. Picking it up he scuffed the sheet and stained it with tisane. Folding it again he tucked it under his tunic and rested it beneath his armpit. "How did they treat you in there?"
"The bank?" Angado scowled. "Like dirt!"
"I want the truth."
"They were cold. Hostile, even. They just said there was no account and no funds for me. I argued but got nowhere. The instructions had been revoked and no money would be paid."
"Did they check you out? Your thumbprint or-"
"No. Nothing. They just weren't interested. I can't understand it. Perotto swore that-what the hell's gone wrong?"
"Think about it," advised Dumarest. "Now let's see if I can cash this note."
The man behind the counter was snobbishly supercilious. He picked up the paper with caution, nose wrinkling at the odor of human perspiration, unfolding it as if it could bite.
"Yours?"
"It's mine." Dumarest leaned over the counter thrusting his face toward the other. "A bearer promissory note, right? You pay whoever presents it. I'm presenting it."
"I meant was it issued to you?"
"It's a bearer note." Dumarest let impatience edge his tone. "What the hell does it matter who it was issued to? I've got it. Check it out and give me the money."
"If you'd like to wait? Come back later-"
"Now!" Dumarest looked beyond the man. "You the boss here? If you can't handle the job maybe I'd better speak to someone who can."
He relaxed as the man hurried away to confer with others. The note was genuine, drawn on the Credit Debutin, carrying Angado's signature, code number and thumbprint. Those details could be checked against the computer data in the bank. He straightened as the cashier returned, another man at his side. One who waited until they were alone.
"Mister-?" He shrugged as Dumarest made no answer. "No matter. I'm the manager here and I'm afraid I have bad news for you. This note of yours cannot be met."
"You mean it's a fake?"
"No, I'm not saying that. It seems genuine enough and normally I'd accept it but there are no longer funds to meet it."
"He's broke?"
"Not broke-dead. The account has been closed." Frowning the manager added, "It's odd. You're the second man who's come in asking about that account. The other claimed to be the person himself."
"Maybe he was."
"Impossible. The report from head office was most explicit. That's why no money can be paid against that note. Of course you can make due representation to the estate for settlement but that will take time. My advice to you is to sell it. You'll have to take a loss, naturally, but-"
"Sell it? Who the hell would buy junk like this?"
"At a quarter face value?" The manager met Dumarest's eyes. "I would for one-the Karroum own most of Lychen."
Chapter Nine
Angado had gone when Dumarest emerged from the bank, the monk seated in his place. Brother Lloyd looked tired, grateful for the tisane he had been given. As Dumarest approached he looked up and began to rise from his chair.
"Sit down." Dumarest dropped into the space facing him. "Did he leave word?"
"Yes. He's in there." The monk gestured toward the casino. "He said to be sure and tell you where he had gone."
A fool unable to restrain his impatience and seeking novelty to pass the time. Dumarest helped himself to some of the tisane and leaned back in his chair as he sipped the fragrant brew. Thoughtful as he reviewed the situation.
Angado was a liability and yet it was hard to think of him as such. A danger; those who wanted him dead would try again and to be close was to invite disaster. A man now without assets and only one proven skill. Yet he held potential value; the resources of his House and Family. Wealth, influence, power-things Dumarest could use in his search for Earth and that search could begin on Lychen where Angado belonged.
He stood at a table, face flushed with excitement as he watched the bounding progress of a ball. One which bounced at the edges of ranked divisions to hover and finally come to rest.
"Red. Even. Eighteen." The croupier's voice was a drone. "Place your bets."
Angado had lost. He lost again. As he went to put more coins on the board Dumarest caught his arm.
"We need to talk."
"You're back! Good!" Angado smiled his pleasure. "One more turn and I'll be with you."
"Now!"
"One more turn."
He played and lost and ordered wine as he led the way to a table set in an alcove flanked with mirrors. The girl who brought it was young, enticing in her slit gown, smiling as she saw her tip.
"Anything else, my lord?"
"Food. A plate of delicacies. The best."
"No food." Dumarest was harsh. "Not yet." Then, as Angado made to protest, he added, savagely, "Do as you like after we've spoken. Now we have things to settle. Why didn't you tell me you were rich?"
"I'm not. I told you about the arrangement. Anyway, what does it matter?" Angado sipped, drank, refilled his glass. "Drink up, Earl, enjoy yourself. We can afford it."
"No."
"Why not? You got the money, didn't you?"
"A quarter of face value." Dumarest stacked coins on the table. "Your share. All you're going to get. If you want to squander it go ahead. It's your money."