"Which I chose to ignore." Zao glanced at the display, noted the changes made while he had journeyed from his office. The space field had changed hands, sold to Fiona Velen for a handsome profit. Something Kalova had missed in his concentration on the northern attacks.
"Look at them, Cyber!" He gestured at the display with a trembling hand. "Like dogs snapping at a bone. All wanting holdings in the north. The north!"
"Why?"
"It's a plot, that's why. A device to attack me, to bring me down. But they'll pay for it. Every last damned one. I'll see them all down and out!"
As Cran and Sand and Bulem would be next. Sacrificed as a warning to others. Once he had gone they would see sense. Cease their attacks and give him time to rest and consider the situation. Give him a chance to take care of the woman.
"No, my lord! Wait!" Zao had seen what the other had overlooked. "Wait!"
Kalova resented the command and ignored it as he pressed home the attack, smiling as he used all his strength to crush the weakling, laughing aloud as he fell-a laugh cut short as the flashing lights ceased their dancing.
"What's wrong? The display-why has it stopped?"
The answer shone back at him from the steady signals; one too many had been eliminated. Cran, Sand, Bulem-and Kalman whom he'd forgotten. Trading had stopped-and Fiona Velen held the field.
Chapter Fourteen
There was wine but Fiona hadn't needed it; the euphoria of victory filled her with its own intoxication. Now, laughing, she lifted her glass to toast her success.
"To you, Earl, and you, Hart. Victory to us all!"
Wine added ruby to her lips, a moistness to their soft invitation, which was reflected in her eyes. Dumarest recognized the biological heat born of the end of tension, the reaction from strain.
He said, "What happens now?"
"Nothing." Fiona set down her wine. "Kalova made a mistake and so froze the situation. We must have the Gross. We started with one hundred and forty-seven. I took out one and the Maximus the other three. That leaves one hundred and forty-three. One short. There can be no trading, no exchanges, no auctions until the Gross has been restored."
"The way's open for challenges," explained Vardoon. "Usually one is picked but any can go forward. And any holder can be challenged. Of course they can use a champion, but the facts remain." He frowned, looking thoughtful. "You, Earl. Why not you?"
"I'm not of the Orres."
"No. I'd forgotten. A shame-you could have been the next Maximus."
"He still could be." Fiona came close. "Or her consort."
"You?"
"Why not? With your help, Earl. You've shown me how it can be done. Once things get back to normal we can really build up my holding. Kalova's shaken now and if Annent and Helm work with us he won't stand a chance." Her arms lifted to close about his neck. Below his eyes her face was vibrant with imagined power. "The Maximus," she murmured. "The Queen!"
Ambition displayed but he had no interest. His part was over; she retained the church and now held the field. Unless she prevented it there was nothing to stop him from leaving once a ship was available.
"Earl?" Her lips closed the space between themselves and his own. "You will work with me, darling? Advise me? Teach me more of your cunning? Earl, you know how I feel about you. Together we could go so far. Have so much. Stay with me, darling. Be at my side."
The chime of the doorbell saved him from the necessity of an answer. Melvin Bulem, face hard, eyes cold, followed Vardoon into the chamber.
Without preamble he said, "I am ruined-you know that?"
"Melvin, I'm so sorry!" Fiona gushed a false sympathy. "Kalova had no need to destroy you."
"It was your fault." His eyes rested on Dumarest. "You and your lies. Your hints and persuasions. I thought you a friend and treated you as such. Why did you do this to me?"
"You did it to yourself," said Vardoon. He stood a little behind and to one side of the visitor, his hands poised for action. "You let greed blind you. A mistake but you made it. Now stop crying like a baby and blaming others."
Without looking from Dumarest, Bulem said again, "Why did you do this to me?"
To him and to a dozen others, tempting them with the golden lure of ardeel, guiding them down the path he wanted them to take. Warriors persuaded to fight in his cause. Bulem was nothing but an unlucky casualty.
Dumarest said, "Reparation will be made. Fiona, will you see to it? My share of the eggs." To Bulem he added, "With money you can buy your way back. Obtain new holdings."
"I trusted you."
"That is why I'm making reparation."
The most he could do but Bulem's hurt was too deep to be assuaged with recompense. He said stiffly, "You are generous and it is appreciated, but you will understand why you are no longer a welcome guest. My house is closed to you."
His house, his brother, the book which could hold the secret he had searched for so many years. The wine Vardoon handed to him held a sour bitterness.
"A fool," said Vardoon as Dumarest lowered the goblet. "But at least he had the guts to meet you face to face. For a moment there I thought he was going to try to kill you."
"Would you have blamed him?"
"No. I'd have felt the same in his place." Vardoon scowled as, again, the door demanded attention. "Who the hell is it this time?"
Bulem had been tense, cold, determined; Kalova was seething with rage. It showed in every gesture, every move. In the darting flicker of his eyes, the continual flexing of the fingers. Small points of froth hung at the corners of his mouth and his eyes held traceries of red.
"You bitch!" He glared at Fiona as he thrust forward into the room. "You cunning, underhanded bitch!"
"Wipe your mouth, Maximus."
"What?"
"You heard what I said. Either talk like a man or get out of my house." She was smiling, confident in her power, the strength her companions gave. What could an old man do against Dumarest and his friend? "This house is my holding," she said. "You have no right here, no authority. If you can't act like a guest, Kalova, then leave."
He had not come alone. Behind him, standing like a tall and silent flame, Zao watched with burning, deep-set eyes. Like a shadow, his acolyte stood to one side. Three men but the cyber held the power.
Fiona sensed it as she had in Dumarest; a radiated aura which set him apart from others, but the two were not the same. Dumarest held the strength of an individual who had long learned to rely on none other than himself. Zao had the confidence of a tremendous organization at his back, the trust in his own abilities, the conviction that what he did was right.
He said, "My lady, I must congratulate you on your ability. The manner of attack was unusual and most effective."
"Lies," snarled Kalova. "The bitch cheated. The fools who attacked me were deluded as to the real worth of the northern holdings. I should have crushed them all!"
As he had crushed Bulem and so halted all operations-the mistake which would kill him.
"The signal, of course, was your own bidding for the selected holdings," continued Zao as if Kalova did not exist. "Those who had been primed followed your lead and the rest was inevitable." Emotive children driven by greed and imagination. The mere fact that someone wanted something was evidence to them that it had to be of value. Supply and demand. Crazed bidding and a form of hysteria too common to any society founded on financial manipulation. And Dumarest had instigated the debacle. "I have a suggestion, my lady, which you may find of interest."
Dumarest said, "Talk to him later, Fiona. After I have gone."