He stepped into the open, one hand lifted, a ruby beam guiding the fury of the laser. Dirt smoked to one side and a bush flared into burning life as Dumarest threw himself to one side beneath the shelter of a boulder. He heard the pound of running feet and turned to see two men running from where they had lurked. One carried a crossbow.
"Hurry!"
The man with the laser was impatient and so was careless. He came to join the others, the weapon lifted in his hand, overconfident of the advantage it gave him and forgetting that a gun is only as good as the man using it. Crouched against the dirt, Dumarest heard the pound of the man's footsteps as they neared his hiding place. A stone rested beneath his free hand and he lifted it, threw it far to one side, slipping to the other side of the boulder as it landed. The men fired as he rose, standing awkwardly, aiming too high and trying to correct his aim. He was still trying as Dumarest, coming from behind him, drove naked steel into his spleen.
A blow which killed as quickly as a bullet in the brain. The man slumped, soundless, the laser falling from his hand to hit the boulder and go tumbling down the slope. Dumarest followed it, hearing the spiteful hiss of an arrow and feeling something hard slam hard against his thigh as, catching up the laser, he rolled and turned to fire.
"Masak?" A voice from higher up the slope. "Is that you, Masak?"
Another voice, higher, younger. "Masak is dead."
"Dead?"
"Knifed." A pause and then, "Let's get out of here! Move!"
An old trick to persuade an enemy to reveal himself and Dumarest waited, immobile where he sat, only his eyes shifting as they searched the silvered gloom. Finally he moved, diving into patches of darkness, moving as silently as starlight, as fast as dancing flame. Stealth and speed which carried him down the slope to where a house sat like a gem in a cup of tended greenery. To a woman who had waited too long.
She was like a tigress, a barely contained creature of seething emotion, pride and dignity alike affronted by his apparent indifference.
"You are my guest, Earl. As such you have certain obligations. If they do not please you then be honest enough to say so. An arrangement can be made."
She was cold and it was hard to think of her as the passionate woman he had held in the turret, yet beneath the icy chill he could sense the masked fires she fought to control. Fires of anger and revenge rather than those of desire and all the more dangerous than those of simple need.
"I beg your pardon, my lady, I was detained."
"Do you mock me?" She had been striding across the floor, moving with a lithe grace, turning to move again. Now she halted and stared her accusation. "I am not your lady. I am your hostess."
"And I was detained."
"Tending the Ohrm. Nursing men who deserve to be eliminated. What did you hope to gain, Earl? Another woman to fall into your arms? Another victory?"
"Information." He was curt. "Doing the job you should have done and should be doing. You, the Choud, your guards. Guards!" He made no effort to mask his contempt. "Where are they when needed?"
"When needed they are summoned."
"By whom? The Choud?" Dumarest looked down at his soiled clothing, the place on his thigh where the arrow had ripped the plastic from the protective mesh. "A pity none of you were around earlier this evening. They could have saved some lives."
"You were attacked?" Abruptly she was concerned. "When? Where?" She tilted back her head when he'd told her then blinked. "Guards have been alerted and will comb the area. It is monstrous that the Ohrm should have the temerity to venture so close to the city when they have no duties here. And to have attacked you-Earl, doesn't that show you what manner of creatures they are?"
"I know what they are," he said coldly. "Human beings."
"Animals."
"Servants through no fault of their own."
"Slaves who want to be free."
"What?" She stared at him then shook her head. "Earl, for a man who has traveled you are strangely innocent. Isn't it obvious to you that some people are more gifted than others? That some are meant to rule, and others are destined to serve? It is the natural order of things and has been so on this world since the First Landing. The Choud make the decisions and the Ohrm, obey. Anything else is unthinkable."
"To you, perhaps, but others may have more active imaginations." Dumarest looked at the laser he had found then handed it to the woman. "Do you recognize this?"
"A standard pattern," Ursula barely glanced at it. "The same as used by the guards." Then, as she recognized the implication, she added emphatically, "No, Earl, you were not attacked by the Choud."
"Then how explain the gun?"
"It was stolen or-" She broke off as her eyes misted. "No, that is not the explanation. No weapon, has been stolen either from the individual or the armory." Blinking, she explained, "This is a small world and we have only one city. There is no need of a large stock of armaments and none are missing. Hury is certain of that."
He frowned, recognizing the word, the second time he had heard it. When had been the first? At the dinner before the women had danced when someone had mentioned Debayo who sat before Hury.
Remembering, he said, "Ursula, when you mentioned Debayo, you said he sat before Hury. Where is it?"
"Don't worry about that now, darling." Her smile was warmly possessive. "We are to visit for dinner and you have yet to bathe."
A change of mood but warmth was better than hostility and far more welcome in someone from whom he needed to gain information. Soaking in steaming, scented water, Dumarest reviewed recently acquired items of knowledge. The Ohrm, Pellia, the men who had attacked him for reasons he could guess. He had asked too many questions or those of the wrong kind and they had taken him for a spy. A natural mistake-but one which had almost cost him his life.
"Earl?" Ursula had come to join him and stood at the edge of the tub dressed in nothing but a thin robe of shimmering azure. It fell to reveal the unadorned lines of her body as she leaned toward him. "I've come to massage your back, do you mind?"
For an answer he extended his arms.
Chapter Eleven
The dinner was held at the house owned by Etallia and this time Renzi was invited. He sat with his hostess at a round table dressed in the center with a mound of succulent dainties served to add climax to the meal.
"Food!" Tuvey puffed out his cheeks as he selected a fruit with a striped rind. "That's the trouble with being guested on Ath. A dinner every night and food enough for an army. Better than the basic most of us grew up on, eh, Earl?"
"That's right, Captain."
"Food and more food." Renzi was becoming expansive though he had said little during the meal. "Things to eat and things to taste. Nice things which come in decorated boxes. Nice women who provide them. Gorgeous ladies like my Lathrynne." His hand fell from her shoulder to glide with slow deliberation over her breast. "To live on this world would be a pleasure. To die on it-"
"Would be a pain," snapped Lathrynne. "As you are getting to be." She pushed aside his crude embrace. "Is there nothing else, Etallia?"
"A novelty Lon bought me. Not the music cube- that has been handed to the victor of our recent little contest-but something as amusing. A globe of living motes which fight and die to breed again on the bodies of the fallen and so wage perpetual war. A gambling device, so I understand, no one can guess the ultimate end of any combat. Come and see it. And you, Rattalie? Cominaria? Wynne? And you, naturally, Ursula." Her smile held pure venom. "As a compensation. Perhaps you can win on something which requires no personal effort."