Dumarest had expected him to argue, instead he accepted the departure, his face calm as he led the way from the chamber.
The women followed him, Pacula supporting the girl.
"So it's over, Earl." Marek shrugged and adjusted pack and gun. "For now, at least, but Sufan will be back. I'm certain of it. Nothing will keep him away and his friends will help him."
"Has he any left?"
"I use the word in its general sense, Earl. The Cydan is the friend of no man, but they will be interested in what he has to tell them. This place could be put to use and they will be happy to learn of it-if a cyber can ever be happy. They will stake him on a second expedition."
To investigate the mist. To take samples, to test, perhaps to breed fresh organisms. To create new centers and so gain another weapon in their war to dominate all Mankind. A bribe or a gift to those who were loyal. The old and sick and miserable given paradise. The rich and jaded offered a supreme thrill. Once established each center would dominate a world.
Dumarest said bleakly, "Will the Cydan listen to him?"
"Why not? They are old associates." Marek was bitter. "Didn't he tell you? That's where we first met, in the laboratory which gave me the thing to kill my wife and child. He was asking advice or something, but he was there."
As associate of his enemy-no wonder he had been followed to Chamelard and beyond. The vessel chasing them must have been lost in the Cloud, but there would be others, more cybers waiting to plot his movements, waiting where they would know he would be.
"Earl?"
"Nothing," said Dumarest. "Let's get after the others."
Chapter Seventeen
They walked through silent chambers, following the upward path of the spiral, reaching the one stained with a pool of dried blood. Marek had taken the lead and guided them through the brooding maze back to where a dead man lay on a bed of dust. Through the circular openings streamed the light of the yellow and crimson suns, warm swaths which touched the sunken cheeks and rictus of the smile.
Captain Cleeve Inchelan seemed amused.
"His raft," said Marek. "If we could only find his raft." If there was one at all. If the structure was undamaged and the power intact-a small hope after so long.
To Pacula, Dumarest said, "How is the girl?"
She sat with her back against a wall, her face dull, her hands lying listlessly in her lap. Not once had she spoken during the journey, walking like a person in a daze, one semi-stunned or drugged. But the sedatives she had been given would have lost their effect by now.
Touching her cheek, Dumarest said gently, "Embira?"
"She's in shock," said Pacula. "That damned mist!" The impact of the alien organism on her mind. Her talent strained by its aura, her ego withdrawing to a place of imagined safety. Looking at her Dumarest could appreciate what she had done. To walk into the glare of burning magnesium, eyes forced open, tormented yet searching for the flicker of a candle which had been himself. Conscious of the hunger of the thing, the danger.
"Embira?" His hand stroked her cheek. "Embira, talk to me."
"Earl?" Her voice was a whisper. "Earl?"
"You're getting through," said Pacula. "Try again." Her own hand gripped the girl's. "You're safe now, Embira. Safe."
"My head-it hurts. I can't-Earl!"
She clung to him like a child.
Sufan Noyoka said, "Can she guide us? Lead us through the chambers back to the door? Ask her, Earl. Ask her!"
"If she can't we're stuck," said Marek. "With luck I could find the door, but how to pass through it?" Looking at the dead man he added bleakly, "It might be that the captain will have company soon."
"Ask her!" snapped Sufan again. "Make her guide us!"
"She can't be forced." Dumarest rose, the girl's hands falling to lie again in her lap. "It will take time before she recovers, if she ever can within the city. We'll have to find another way out."
"How? The wall can't be climbed."
"From the outside, no," Dumarest admitted. "But from the inside? Well have to find out. Marek!"
He led the man to one of the openings and together they climbed to the lower edge. It was set high on the curve of the chamber and, thrusting his head and shoulders far out, Dumarest turned to study the slope above. If the material was the same as that of the outer wall they had no chance, but if it was like that of the smaller chambers there was hope.
"Pass me a gun, Marek, and hold me firm."
Dumarest leaned back, his legs held by the other man, lifting the gun and aware of the danger inherent in the recoil. Aiming he fired, a long blast which left a scarred gash, shallow but deep enough to offer a precarious hold. Lifting the muzzle he fired again, again, blasting a ladder in the smooth surface.
As he ducked back through the opening Marek said, "Can we climb it?"
"Yes. I'll go first and drop a rope. We can pull the women up behind us."
"And after?"
"We'll see."
The roof was long, rounded, curved like the back of a whale. It ended at one of the mounds, a curved rainbow of shimmering, refracted light, which swept up and to either side.
Marek said, "Earl, the gun?" He grunted when the roar of the weapon died, leaving the surface unscarred. "Well, we were lucky once. What now?"
"We climb." Dumarest narrowed his eyes as he studied the barrier. They were high against the curve, another dozen feet and they would be able to crawl, fifteen and they would be relatively safe. How to gain those fifteen feet?
"Pacula, lift your skirt up around your waist and tie it. Bare your legs and arms, those of the girl also. Marek, don't move!" Light flashed from the knife he lifted from his boot. With the edge he roughed the clothing the man wore, doing the same to Sufan, ending him himself. "It'll give extra traction," he explained, sheathing the blade. "Remember to lie flat and press hard against the surface. Use your flattened hands, a cheek, the insides of your legs."
Dumarest set the example, leaning to face the slope, straddling his legs as Marek climbed to his shoulders. Sufan followed, then Pacula. She inched forward, providing an anchor for Sufan, the two of them drawing up Marek to lie beside them.
"Embira." Dumarest fastened her to the rope and explained what had to be done. "You can manage?"
"If you're with me, Earl."
"I'll be with you." He guided her to the slope. "Up now."
He lifted her, his hands firm around her waist moving to her thighs, her knees. His palms made cups to support her feet, the extension of his arms holding her high. With the others she would lie flat, providing an anchor to take his weight.
A procedure repeated as, like flies, they crawled over the mounds to the wall.
It rose ten feet against the sky, featureless, a blank expanse which ran to either side on its long circle about the city. Without hope Dumarest blasted it with a hail of bullets, the roar of the gun muted in the brooding stillness of the air.
"Now what?" Marek shook his head. "We could reach the summit but what will it gain us? There's a hundred-foot drop the other side."
"We have a rope."
"True, but how to hold it? There's nothing to tie it to, Earl. One could let down the others but how can he escape?"
Dumarest said, "Empty your packs. Drop the canteens and guns, all the weight you can. Now, you first, Pacula. Free the rope when you land."
"Embira?"
"Will follow, but she will need you to guide her. Now hurry, woman! Move!"
Quick action to save the need of thought, the realization of what would happen if she should fall. With the rope firmly knotted Dumarest took the slack, a loop around his waist, watching as Pacula climbed on Marek's shoulders. Turning to look at him she said, "Earl! What-"
She cried out as she slipped on the yielding surface, the rope streaming through Dumarest's hands, checking as he strained against it, slipping smoothly and easily through his hands. It slowed as he tightened his grip to lower the woman gently through the last stage of descent.