He stared in surprise at the glass of wine thrust into his hand, the man who had placed it there.
"Sit down," said Dumarest. "Sit and drink your wine."
A kindness, the consideration of the victor for the vanquished; would he have been capable of such a gesture? Adara sat and drank and said, "Earl, I think there is something you should know."
"Adara! You-"
"Be quiet!" snapped Dumarest, not looking at the woman. To Adara he said, "Why were you so insistent that Eloise should not order more wine?"
"It is noted. Everything you order is noted. If anyone is considered to be guilty of too great an excess, it tells against them."
"And?"
"I can answer that." Eloise stepped forward with a delicate chiming of bells. "Drink too much, use too many drugs, eat like a pig, have too much sex, pick a fight or fail to cooperate-it all tells against you. Do it too often and you'll draw a low number at the Knelling. You know what the Knelling is? Hasn't anyone told you yet? It's when the unfit are culled. The unfit according to Camolsaer, of course; that damned god in a box who rules this jail. And it is a jail, Earl; surely you have discovered that for yourself by now. A prison from which there is only one way out." Her lifted hand made a cutting gesture at her throat. "Curtains. Finish. Food for the worms."
Arbush said, dryly, "A pleasant prospect. Is there anything else?"
"When you get too old. When you fall too sick. When you become too anti-social, whatever that means in this godforsaken place. When you don't fit the nice, neat, tidy pattern laid down by God knows who." She glared at him. "You won't last long. You like wine too much, have too many girls. You dodge work and go your own way. And you're too fat."
"I like my comforts."
"Sure, and you'll pay for them. With your life."
As she would also, of that she was certain. Again, she had allowed emotion to ruin the carefully maintained appearance of calm. But now, at least, there was a hope.
"Earl, please, you've got to get me away from here."
"Got to? Why?"
"Because I love you." It wasn't reason enough; she had given him words, nothing else, and how many other women had told him the same? Too many others. Enough for him to have learned that what is said and what is meant are not the same thing. She added, "And, because in a way, I saved your life. If I hadn't been watching and spotted you against the barrier, the Monitors could never have reached you in time."
"Is that true, Adara?"
"Yes, Earl. I was with her at the time. I-she reported it to Camolsaer and insisted that aid be sent."
"Insisted?" If Dumarest had noticed the slip, he gave no indication of it. "Can anyone insist?"
"No, but you can make a point on the basis of logic. Camolsaer stated that, as you had come from the ice, you had to be Krim and therefore destroyed. I pointed out that the Krim are animals and animals do not use ropes to descend a cliff. Therefore, you had to be men and should be rescued."
Rescued and healed; but where was the logic in that if he was fated to be selected for death?
"We've got to escape, Earl." Eloise was insistent. "You've got to find a way." And then, as he remained silent, she added, "Are you wondering why Camolsaer saved you? I'll tell you-for raw materials. The fabric of your brain can be used to build more Monitors. That's what conversion means. Your body reduced to basic elements to be used as fertilizer; your brain trimmed and fitted into a machine. The fools here think they move on up to a higher level of existence, but they're wrong. The ego doesn't remain, it can't. Would you ever take a Monitor for a man?"
"Eloise!"
"Shut up, Adara! I've told you this before and I thought you believed me. But you're weak. You know what must happen and yet do nothing about it. Remember the last Knelling? I saw your face and knew what you felt, but afterwards? You did nothing. You just slipped back into the routine. Acting a part, pretending to be a good little boy so as not to be punished. And yet you have the gall to call yourself a man."
"That's enough!" Dumarest stepped between them as Adara rose, his face flushed at the insult. "Eloise, Adara is your friend. You should remember that."
"Earl!"
"A friend," he repeated coldly. "Not a toy to be thrown aside at a whim."
A rebuke which she deserved and, looking at him, she guessed why Dumarest had made it. Adara was a resident of the city, a source of information and a potential enemy. A rejected lover who could ruin any plan they chose to make. Elementary caution dictated that he be treated with consideration. Why hadn't she thought of that?
Brooding over his gilyre Arbush said, "I think we are becoming excited without need. Eloise has drunk too much wine. You have done nothing to offend Camolsaer, Earl. You are not old or fat or greedy. You are not, as I am, tempted by the hires of the flesh. There is no reason why you should be chosen." He plucked a string. "I think that the woman is more concerned for herself than for you."
"Yes," she admitted. "I am concerned for myself. And so would you be, in my place. But you're wrong about Earl not being in danger. Among these people he is a wolf among sheep. A source of contamination. How long will it be before he gains a following? A man who could survive as he has done will never willingly submit to the Knell. He will fight and, if nothing else, set an example of resistance. If I can see it, then so must Camolsaer."
"True." Arbush thoughtfully plucked another string. "Earl is a most unusual man."
"And because of that most likely to be chosen." said Adara. "Eloise is right in what she says. There is every-" He broke off, turning, his face suddenly haggard as a Monitor strode into the room. "What do you want?"
The thing ignored him, coming to a halt before the little group; the head moving from side to side, a ruby glow behind the elongated planes of crystal which were its eyes. The paint on its metal mask was a parody of a human visage.
"Man Dumarest, you will take this." It extended an arm, a slip of card held in the hand; an appendage larger than normal, made of overlapping plates, the ends of the fingers tipped with a grey plastic. "Man Adara. Man Arbush." Two other slips. "Woman Eloise."
The fourth and last. As the Monitor left the room she looked at it; her laughter hard, brittle, taut with incipient hysteria.
"Number nine. The last time it was number twenty-two. Adara?"
"Thirteen."
"I'm number seven," said Arbush. "How about you, Earl?"
Dumarest looked at the slip. It held an abstract design over which was printed a bold figure one.
"The prime!" Eloise. sucked in her breath. "I told you, Earl. You'll be the first to go!"
Chapter Eleven
For a long moment there was silence and then Arbush rose, crossed to the serving hatch and, placing his hand flat on the plate said, loudly, "Arbush. Wine to room 638. Four decanters."
He carried them, two in each hand, back to where they sat; Dumarest thoughtful, the woman excited, Adara slumped in resigned despair.
"Drink," he said. "It is an unusual occasion. Not every day does a man receive official notification of his impending demise." The wine made liquid gurglings as he poured. Handing each a glass, he raised his own. "A toast. To optimism!"