"Mada," she interrupted. "How can we be formal now?"
"It is not always wise to build a future on events of the past," he said quietly. "It is a mistake often made and one for which many men have suffered."
Had he? She studied him over the rim of her glass, resentful of his calmness while appreciating his tact and diplomacy. He was telling her that the incident could be forgotten. It made it easier for her to guide the conversation.
"You are a traveler. It must be wonderful to visit new worlds and see different cultures. Are most of them barbaric?"
"No, Mada. Usually a world when colonized falls into a definite pattern. Great houses rise to control government and industry. But others are based on different forms of society. Kren is a world in which democracy has been carried to the ultimate. Nothing can be decided until a referendum has been taken. Computers, naturally, make this simple. Pharso, on the other hand, is a dictatorship with supreme authority vested in one man who is chosen by lot each five years. Charos is a world devoted to athletic prowess. Status is determined by victories scored at games and combats. The old and those unable to compete are relegated to the status of servitors."
"An interesting system," she commented. "Those once in power inevitably wind up as demoted citizens. It should make them consider the welfare of the servitors if nothing else. They would be safeguarding their own future."
Dumarest poured them both more wine, wondering at the woman's motives. "And Technos?"
"A meritocracy based on educational attainment." She sipped at her wine. "To you it must seem a strange culture. There is small chance for individual freedom of the type to which you must be accustomed. Technos was a bleak world. In the beginning everything had to be subordinate to the common welfare. There was no room for wasted effort, even the unfit were culled at birth or shortly afterward. Now citizens are allowed to breed only if they reach a certain mental level. The dream was of a continually rising spiral of intelligence governed on scientific principles."
"An ambitious undertaking," said Dumarest. "Why did it fail?"
"Fail?"
"Technos is at war. War, by definition, is a confession of failure. It requires little intelligence to beat a weaker man with a club."
"And much to persuade him to do what you want while letting him think he wants to do it?" She nodded. "You are right, but one mistake doesn't make a failure."
"You have made more than one. A viable culture should not erect barriers to prevent the free passage of visitors or residents. Technos is a hard world to reach. Science should not be afraid of the truth."
"And travelers carry truth?"
He smiled. "Not always. Most travelers simply want the chance to work and accumulate enough money to buy another passage. Is that possible here?"
"No." She paused, watching him, gauging the moment. "You acknowledge the fact that you owe me your life. Do you consider the debt paid?"
Dumarest met her eyes. "No."
"You want to leave Technos, to continue your search for Earth. I can help you."
"At a price, my lady?"
"Money and a High passage," she said quickly. "All made easy for you to go. In return I want you to do one thing." She drew in her breath. "I want you to kill the Technarch!"
* * *
The silence grew, deepened by the drifting shadows from the open door of the bedroom, the glow of artificial moonlight from the vaulted roof. Dumarest looked at his hands, raising his head to meet the woman's eyes.
Quietly he said, "I am not an assassin, my lady."
"You are a fugitive, on Technos without legal right, subject to punishment when caught. Hard punishment." she emphasized. "Interrogation and, perhaps, death. Unless I aid you, capture is certain. And you admit that you owe me your life."
"Is that why you saved it, my lady?"
"No," she spoke without thinking, but it was true enough. At first she had obeyed the promptings of a whim and the desires of her body. But then had come the interview with Brekla, the thinly disguised threats, the knowledge that she stood alone against Vargas and his ambition.
Shergan, Alica, Marmot, Dehnar, all had turned against her. The Supreme Council were rats each scuttling for safety. Or, perhaps, they had formed a cabal from which she was excluded. With the Technarch dead they would think again, and at least she would have time to secure her position.
Dumarest had to agree!
Leaning forward she spoke quickly before he could refuse. "Vargas is an old man, terrified of his shadow. He trusts only a single guard. I can arm you and guide you to his chamber. Two shots and the thing is done. In return I will give you money and arrange a passage." Her voice rose, grew thin and querulous. "Why do you hesitate? What have you to lose? Your mind carries the knowledge of violence. You have killed before so why not again? It is such a little thing I ask. Two shots and you will have repaid your debt. Do it, Earl. For me. Please!"
A little thing! To kill the head of a state! And afterward would she keep her part of the bargain or would she arrange to have him killed so as to close his mouth? And when he refused, what then? Poison in the wine?
Slowly he said, "My lady, you are distraught. You cannot realize what you ask."
"I ask you to kill a man," she said. "A mad dog who will drag us all to ruin. An ambitious fool blind to everything but his own lust for power. Kill him and Technos will have cause to be grateful."
"I have little cause to trust the gratitude of princes," he said dryly. "And less to rely on the thanks of a nation. What you propose, my lady, is unwise."
"You refuse?"
"To kill a man I have never seen? Yes, my lady. As I said, I am no assassin."
Dumarest rose, stiffening as a sudden knocking came from the door, seeing by the woman's eyes that the interruption was unexpected. It came again, sharp, imperious.
"Hide," she said quickly. "In there." She gestured toward the bedroom. "Make no sound."
The knocking increased as he stepped into the room, closing the door all but a crack. Through it he saw Mada cross the chamber and open the door. A flood of light from the corridor beyond lined her figure with a halo of brilliance.
"Your pardon, madam," said a familiar voice. "I crave your indulgence on a matter of planetary security. Have I your permission to enter?"
Keron! And from the sound of his voice, he would brook no refusal. Dumarest turned and ran toward the bathroom. Inside he scanned the walls. They were solid, broken only by grilles too small to allow the passage of his body. A disposal chute opened at his touch and he stared into darkness. It would lead to a shaft, dropping to the lower levels and ending, perhaps, in a furnace. As he hesitated he heard the sudden rise of Mada's voice.
"How dare you! To burst into my apartments! Have the members of the Supreme Council no rights?"
Keren's answer was firm. "Not when planetary security is at risk, madam. I must insist that you allow me to search your rooms."
The chute bent at a sharp angle two feet from the opening. Dumarest felt the scrape of the rim against his back as he wriggled around the bend, elbows extended to brake his passage. His legs dangled free and he followed them, hanging by his hands at the lower edge of the bend, reaching back with one foot to find the extent of the shaft. It was about four feet wide, narrow enough for him to press his feet against one side, his back against the other, lowering himself with cautious motions.
From above he caught a flash of light and heard a muffled voice.
"Nothing here, Major."
The light vanished and the darkness was complete. Cramped in the chimney Dumarest cautiously eased his way down. To return to the woman's apartment was to take an unnecessary risk. Keron would have stationed a guard in the corridor if nowhere else and the man would probably have orders to shoot on sight. And the woman was another problem. His refusal would not have endeared him to her, and if she was wise she would kill him to close his mouth.