"It must have got mislaid," said Dumarest. "I had better go and collect it myself. Are you sure the fried wobart is the best on the menu?"
"You have my word on it, sir."
"Then I'll have it. Together with appropriate wines and liqueurs, naturally. I leave the selection to you and you will not find me unappreciative of any care you may take."
"I understand, sir." The voice held a smile. "Until this evening, then. I do hope that you find your luggage."
Time, thought Dumarest lowering the receiver. Everything was a move to gain time. Keron had acted fast and he was in a trap. The talk of the meal was to reassure the receptionist. A man on the run would hardly concern himself with details of food. But it was a meal he would never eat.
And where would he sleep? With every hotel checked a man without credentials would be investigated and it would be risking too much to book in as the officer. A bordello, perhaps? They would be among the first to suffer investigation. To walk about? The streets would be thick with watchful guards.
Outside he looked at the sky. It was heavy with cloud and the air held a rising chill. A garbage can swallowed the wallet and laser and he bought a top coat from a store. With the temperature falling a man without a coat would be suspect.
As he paid for the purchase Dumarest said, "Where is the station?"
"Which one? The monorail or the subterranean?"
"The monorail."
"Five blocks north and three east. You a stranger?"
"Landed yesterday." Dumarest picked up his change. "A fine city you've got here."
"This?" The clerk pursed his lips. He was a young man with definite ideas. "This is nothing, mister. You should see the capital. Technos is a real city. This place is more like a barracks. Soldiers everywhere, you can't move without bumping into a uniform. You a military man?"
"No, just here on business."
"You're lucky. I'm getting drafted next week. Two years without option and for why? Because that creep on Cest won't grow up. It stands to reason that the place will be better off accepting our rule. But do they admit it? Like hell they do. So I'll be off to stand guard and maybe collect a knife in the back while I'm doing it."
"Tough," said Dumarest. "But sending you off doesn't make sense. Why don't they use those men from Loame."
The youth blinked. "What men?"
"You don't know about them? The tribute?" Dumarest shrugged as the man remained blank. "Well, never mind, I probably got it wrong. You can never trust rumor."
The monorail stood on a rise of ground from which it was possible to look over the city, a suburb really, clustered about the landing field. It was thick with the expected guards. Dumarest walked among them, not looking around, striding directly to an information board. It was a loop system, a train running directly to the capital to the east, another heading along to the west, skirting the coast and joining a branch leading back to Technos. No man in his right mind would take that route if going to the capital.
Conscious of the guards, Dumarest walked to the ticket office.
"One to Farbein."
"Single or return?"
"Return."
The clerk reached for a ticket, thrust it into a machine and looked at Dumarest. "Identification, please."
Dumarest produced Keren's card.
It was a gamble. As yet they couldn't know he had changed the color of his skin and a partition between himself and the clerk blurred details. The man picked up the card, added it to the ticket in the machine and pressed a lever.
"All right. Major," he said handing over both ticket and card. "Platform two. You've got twenty minutes to wait."
He didn't even look up as he said it.
Chapter Six
FROM HER WINDOW Mada Grist stared at a dancing swirl of snowflakes and felt an unaccustomed pleasure in watching the steady fall. It had begun an hour ago and now the woods and hills, the logged outhouses of the hotel were covered with a fluffy white blanket, bright in the light of the beacon rotating on the roof. There was a random charm about the flakes, she thought, each holding its own pattern, each drifting to the vagaries of the wind, to settle and add to the thickening blanket.
Like people, she thought, pleased with the analogy. Born to drift and then finally to settle. But the comparison was incorrect. People, unlike flakes of snow, could determine their direction and choose their own place of landing.
Musing she turned from the window, polarizing the glass to insure her privacy, the interior lights brightening as she touched a control. A mnemonic clock whispered the time, adding that she had only thirty minutes before the time set for dinner. She ignored it, concentrating instead on her reflection in a long mirror.
The body was superb.
Fabric rustled as she eased the thin robe from her shoulders, bright synthetics falling to mound at her feet. They were slender, high arched, without blemish. Long legs rose, tapering, from fine ankles and shapely calves. The hips swelled beneath a narrow waist, the waist rising to high breasts and rounded shoulders. Her hands touched the thighs, rose over the cage of her ribs to cradle the molded fullness, rose higher to pause at the base of her throat.
The clock whispered again, this time adding that the council was due to meet in a couple of hours. Trust Vargas to choose such a peculiar time. He was growing more irrational every day, but it wouldn't be the first session she had missed and she doubted if it would be the last. And, tonight, there were more important things to do.
Reluctantly she turned from the mirror, recognizing the narcissus complex and a little amused by it. How many women, she wondered, were in love with their own bodies? How many had cause?
Dressing, she left the room. Krell, his face anxious, met her in the passage outside. It was paneled with dark wood carved with depictions of the chase, men hunting beasts with primitive weapons. Against the implied virility of the motifs he looked diminished and insignificant, an illusion heightened by the furtiveness of his eyes.
"I'm worried, Mada," he said. "I think we'd better call the whole thing off?"
"The meeting? Why?"
"Brekla hasn't arrived. Marmot called to say that he's been delayed. Dehnar-"
"Is a coward," she interrupted. "And so are you, Eegan. Sometimes I wonder how you ever managed to win your seat on the council."
"And that's another thing. There's a meeting called and we shall be missed. I honestly think that we'd better leave it until a later occasion."
He meant it, she decided, searching his face. He wanted to abandon the whole enterprise and run back to what he imagined was safety. To bow and cringe and hope to be overlooked in what was certain to come. To hide like a rabbit-and to scream like one if caught. It was hard to remember that they had once been lovers.
"You're a fool," she said flatly. "You're letting your imagination run away with you. So what if the others can't come? We are here to enjoy a private dinner, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"But-"
"What are you afraid of? We intended to talk about the Technarch-is that a crime? We are members of the Supreme Council and have the right to discuss anything we want wherever we want. But now we won't even do that. We will simply enjoy the evening and that is all."
"We could be watched," he said miserably. "Vargas has spies everywhere. If he knew that we had gotten together he would be immediately suspicious."
"He's that already." Firmly she tucked her arm through his and led him to where a waterfall of stairs fell to the dining area below. "But if we suddenly leave for no apparent reason he will have grounds for thinking the worst. Now smile," she ordered. "You are the host, remember? Look as if you're enjoying yourself."