"You-not I!"
"Eloise! Please, I need you."
A cry from the heart, a man faced with the sure knowledge of oblivion and not knowing which way to turn. A child reaching out for a familiar comfort.
Dumarest said, "Go with him, Eloise. Take him to his room. Put him to bed."
"Earl! You ask me to do that!"
"That and more if necessary," he said harshly. "He saved your life, remember? You owe it to him to provide what comfort you can."
"But, Earl, I love you."
"And what does that mean?" He met her eyes, saw the bruised hurt they contained, the bafflement. "Does it mean that, because you say it, I must love you in return? That I have to make an enemy of a man who has done me no harm? Damn it, woman, grow up!"
She stiffened, face reflecting her anger, her hurt pride; and then, glancing at Adara where he sat, she softened and rose.
"You're right, Earl. Adara has been good to me. But I meant what I said. I love you. I shall always love you. I don't want you ever to forget that."
* * * * *
The room was a clot of shadows; pale starlight, coming from the window in the other chamber, doing little more than haze the darkness; making the bed a darker mound among others, the door itself a pale oblong in which something stood.
Dumarest rolled, one hand slipping the knife from his boot; rising poised to strike.
"Please!" The voice was a high, breathless whisper. "Earl, is that you? Please say something if you're awake."
It was the woman from the party, the one who had invited him to her room. She stepped back as he drew near, her eyes wide, terrified as they looked at the knife. She gulped as he slid it back into his boot.
"You-I thought you were going to kill me!"
"Is it allowed?"
"Not yet. Not until dawn. But you wouldn't kill me, Earl, would you. Not when there are other things to do. So much more pleasant things."
She had retreated at his advance to stand before the window, pale starlight on her hair, the blonde tresses shimmering as if dusted with silver. A tall, proud, sensuous animal; he remembered how her eyes had clung to him, the naked invitation she had offered.
"What do you want?"
"You, Earl. You can stay with me in my room until the Knelling. You are the prime and deserve the best. I shall give it to you. Anything you want will be yours. All I can offer will ease those last hours until the bell."
Her face held an expression he had seen before. The feral anticipation of sensuous delight; the titivation of yielding to the demands of a man who would no longer have cause to restrain his appetite. Such creatures were to be found at every arena, harpies feeding on overstimulated emotion; willing to be degraded, humiliated, eager to pander to every bestial desire.
"Earl?"
He said, coldly, "I'll take you to your room. If I see you again I'll kill you. You had better believe that."
"You filth!" Anger thinned her lips, tightened the skin of her face so that it looked like scraped bone in the cold light of the stars. "You-"
"Get out! Now!"
A woman scorned, the second in a few hours; but where she could be ignored, Eloise could not. Outside in the corridor Dumarest tensed, listening. He heard the soft pad of running feet, a cry, the sound of a scuffle. Turning a corner he caught a glimpse of a running shape; another lying on the floor, groaning, blood making a pool beneath the shoulders.
The woman had lied. The first day had passed, already the violence had begun.
As he stepped towards the groaning man, a Monitor stepped before him.
"Man Dumarest, this is not your concern."
"The man is hurt."
"The man is dying. He will be attended to." Other Monitors joined the first, stooping to pick up the injured man. Dumarest followed them to where a passage slanted towards the lower levels. It opened on a chamber containing a closed door. As he watched it swung wide, to reveal a corridor bright with a pale blue luminescence. Before he could enter, the door slammed in his face. One of the ubiquitous Monitors appeared at its side. "Man Dumarest, this area is forbidden. Return to the level above."
Up past the assembly rooms now deserted, the pool filled with idle water, the gymnasium empty of exercising men.
Dumarest reached a door, knocked, waited, knocked again.
"Who is it?"
"Arbush, open up!"
The minstrel was cautious. From behind the closed panel came the sound of scraping, then the door cracked open to reveal an eye.
"Earl!" He swung open the door. "Eloise lied to us," he complained. "She said there would be a day of calm. Calm, hell! A bunch of young thugs tried to jump me. I got one and the others ran. What happened to you?"
"I've been resting. Asleep."
"Thinking?" Arbush was shrewd. "Earl, did you-"
"Bring your gilyre," interrupted Dumarest. "I think Eloise would like to hear you play."
Like the minstrel she had blocked her door, opening it only when she was certain of who stood outside. Adara was with her, his face pale, his eyes haunted with inner trepidation. A decanter of wine, untouched, stood on a small table at his side.
"Earl!" He rose, hands extended, the palms outward to be touched. "It's good of you to call. This is a bad time to be alone."
"I thought you'd like some music," said Dumarest. "Arbush, play something loud and cheerful. Very loud and very cheerful."
"Something like this, Earl?" The minstrel's fingers danced on the strings, notes rising, high, shrill, seeming to hang and quiver in the air; resonance building so that the glasses on the tray rang in sympathy.
"A neat tune, is it not?" Arbush winked as he played. "I composed it during a time on Helada when I was invited to stay as a guest at the court of King Swendle. There was a girl, a veritable flower, but the old man was jealous and had set electronic guards. Even so, we managed to talk and arrange an assignation. I learned later that his electrician had been whipped for his failure to maintain his equipment." His voice lowered, became urgent. "Talk, Earl. While I play, nothing can overhear us." Dumarest wasted no time.
"Adara. When you went out to rescue Eloise, how did you travel? Did you walk or fly?"
"Fly, but why do you ask? What-"
"Never mind the questions. You flew. With the same attachments as the Monitors use?"
"Yes."
"Where did you get them?"
"The Monitors provided the unit. They got it from a store close to the northern exit."
"And the weapons they use against the Krim? The missile launchers. The same place?"
"I'm not sure. I-" Adara frowned, then his face cleared. "Yes. I remember now. The Monitors armed themselves before we set out They took the weapons from the same store."
Eloise whispered, her breath warm against his cheek, "Earl! Do you have a plan?"
A bare idea formed while he had lain resting, thinkings correlating every scrap of information he had gained about the city and its occupants.
"A chance," he admitted, "but the only one we've got. We can't cross the ice on foot. Even if we could cross the ground beyond the city, we could never scale the barrier. And if we could do that we'd never make it to Breen. There could be tunnels running from the lower levels, in fact there have to be; but we'd still have to dig our way to the surface. Flying is the only way out."
"Simple," she said, disappointed. "All we have to do is to get the units and go. But what about the Monitors? Camolsaer? As soon as we touch the store, it would know about it."
"Perhaps."
"It can't be done, Earl." Adara shook his head. "The Monitors would order us away."
"What if they do? Do you have to obey?" Dumarest saw the man blink, as if at an unheard of concept. "Listen, Adara, unquestioning obedience is the badge of slavery. If ever you get away from here, you'll have to learn how to be free. You may as well start now. I suppose you do want to get away?"