A man lying pale and limp and apparently dead. A man who dissolved and rose and stood tall and menacing in a scarlet robe.
Cyber Broge, his face like a skull, bone which smiled.
"There's no escape, Dumarest. We are too powerful. You can never hope to elude us for long. We shall find you and, when we do, you will pay." The even tones echoed as if rolling down a corridor. "Pay… pay… pay…"
His arm lifted and Dumarest sprang to one side, hand dropping to his boot, the hilt of the knife carried there, rising with it gleaming naked in his hand, lunging forward to send the steel whining through the air in a vicious cut which drew sparks from stone, ripped at fabric-and sent Roland Acrae falling back with a rip on the sleeve of his blouse.
"Earl! No!" Lavinia came running towards him as again the blade rose. It halted in its driving lunge to fall inches from the ruined blouse, light turning the steel into a purple shimmer, luminescent blurs riding the honed edge and point.
"A mistake." Dumarest lowered the knife. "I thought-it was a mistake. I apologize, my lord."
"So fast." Roland lifted fingers to the ripped sleeve. "You moved like the wind."
"A mistake."
"The mistake was mine." Incredibly he was calm. "I should have known, have warned you, at least. Look at the suns."
They were very close, edges almost touching, flares of magenta and violet filling the air with a purple haze.
"I could have killed you," said Dumarest. And would have done if something, instinct perhaps, had not stayed his hand. Lavinia added to the strangeness of the moment with her smile.
"You could have done, I suppose, and if you had I would have regretted it. But it would not have been the tragedy you seem to think."
"My lady?"
"He would have moved on but he wouldn't have wholly gone. At times of delusia he would have returned. We could have spoken to him and he to us."
"Delusia?" Dumarest looked again at the suns beginning to understand. "Is that when the dead come back to life?"
"We can see them and talk to them and they to us. Is that what disturbed you? The presence of an old enemy who threatened you? One who wanted to hurt?"
"One who wanted to kill."
"And so you tried to kill him." Slowly she nodded, her eyes wide, the lift of her breasts prominent beneath her gown as she drew in her breath. "Do you find it easy to kill, Earl?"
He thought of Chagney. "No."
"But, if you are threatened, you will?"
"It is the way of life." Dumarest looked at the knife and thrust it back into his boot. "You breed animals and must know that. The strongest are those who perpetuate their line. To do that they will fight and win. They have to win."
"Animals are not men."
"Perhaps not, my lady, but the same rule applies. A man is nothing if he is not alive-dead he can only feed the ground."
"On Zakym men do not truly die," said Lavinia swiftly. "No human dies. They are changed. Delusia is proof of that."
"Proof?"
"You have seen it, Earl. You know."
He said, dryly, "You believe the dead return to confer with you. That, at certain times, you break some barrier or that some barrier is broken. But always those you see are those you remember. Always, am I right?"
"Yes, but-what has that to do with it? They are real. They talk and smile and listen. You have seen them for yourself. That man you tried to kill-proof, Earl! Proof!"
He heard the conviction in her voice, saw it in her eyes, the stance of her body. To argue against faith was to try and blow out a sun. The evidence was there, to her beyond question, a comfort she could not reject.
"Earl?"
"My lady, I am a stranger to this world, alive only because of your hospitality. Who am I to question your ways?"
"But-"
"Lavinia!" Roland rested his hand on her arm. "You upset yourself without cause. Not all worlds know what we know. Delusia is unique to Zakym. It takes time to understand."
The man had traveled and would know more than he said. Dumarest glanced at the sky, at the twin suns with their tremendous energy-potential, solar furnaces blasting radiation into space. A flood which was subtly altered when the suns merged to become a pattern of forces which distorted the micro-currents of the brain and so create hallucinations. Fragments of memory, revived, projected, given attributes which existed only in the minds of the beholder.
Delusions which would form the basis of a religion, a faith, a way of life.
"Earl?" Lavinia took a step towards him, her eyes searching his face. "You understand?"
A person who communed with the dead. A tall and lovely woman whose hair glowed with the lambent sheen of purple light from the setting suns. One who flushed a little as she felt her body respond to his masculinity.
Roland, watching, said abruptly, "It's getting late. We had best go below."
Chapter Twelve
The room was similar to others he had known; the walls of stone softened with hanging fabrics, the floor of polished wood, the bed soft and the covers delicately embroidered with a variety of hues and patterns. Dumarest lifted one and let it run through his fingers. It held an engaging primitiveness and, on more sophisticated worlds, would have commanded a high price.
Letting it fall Dumarest crossed to the window. It was small, fitted with hexagonal panes, looking on to a shaft faced with white stone. Reflected light from one side and above revealed another chamber, more lay to the sides and lower down. No window faced another. The panes, locked in their frame, were impossible to open.
A knock, and a servant entered bearing a lighted lamp. Setting it on a small table the girl curtsied.
"My lord, your bath is ready and soon it will be curfew."
"Thank you." Dumarest had heard the throb of the gong before. "Does it always sound at night?"
"At dark, yes, my lord. The castle is sealed then."
"Totally?" He smiled at her blank expression. "If I wanted to go out could I?"
"Out, my lord?" the concept was beyond her comprehension. "Go out? But why?"
"To take a walk, maybe. Could I? Is there a gate?"
"No." She shuddered a little. "Not open, my lord. But it would be madness to go out after dark. Madness!"
"Why?"
"The-my lord, you must excuse me. I have duties to attend to. Things to be done before curfew."
He gestured dismissal and returned to the window. Leaning against the panes he stared up at the sky. Only a little was visible, a deep indigo in which shone fitful gleams, the patch edged with a rim of stone. As he watched shapes appeared; men who lifted something to let it fall and block the opening. A seal of some kind which shut out the world beyond.
The throb of the gong came as he entered the bath. It thrummed through the building, creating tintinnabulations on all sides so that the very air quivered to the solemn beat.
Dumarest ducked his head, felt the vibration through the water and rose to see Roland standing beside the tub. He handed Dumarest a towel, watched with envious eyes as he dried himself, the fabric rasping over the firm muscles of shoulders and back, the lean lines of hips and waist.
Without preamble he said, "On the promenade, when you tried to kill me, what did you see?"
"An enemy."
"And you struck out like that? Without thought or hesitation?"
"Should I have waited for him to kill me first?"
"Perhaps not." Roland found a chair and sat, thoughtful. "As you may have noticed, Earl, we are a peaceful race. The thought of violence is strange to us. We live now as we have lived for centuries-in common harmony. There are minor frictions, of course, we are individuals and that is inevitable, but the turning to violence which is so common on other worlds is not in our nature. You-" He broke off, looking at his hands. "You are a stranger among us-do you understand what I am trying to say?"