"I don't know. I've only been in the capital a short time. I was studying and-" She drew a deep breath. "That doesn't matter. What can I do?"
"Fight, what else?" Dumarest paused, listening. From somewhere down the corridor he heard the muffled slam of a door. "You have access to some of the tributaries from Loame. Set them free, fill them with chemical courage and turn them against the palace guards. How well do you know Keron?"
"Very well. We are to be married."
"Contact him. Use hypnotics if you have to but get him to act. He is in control of armed and trained men. Once Vargas is dead he could become leader of the planet. Damn it, girl, think! A culture like this is brittle, the people conditioned to obey the man with the big voice, the officials terrified to act of their own volition. Act now and Loame is safe. Mada Grist will cooperate because she has no choice now that Vargas knows she asked me to kill him. With her on your side others of the council will fall into line. Keron can retain control in the name of security and from then on it's up to you."
"You make it all sound so very simple."
"It is simple. All you need to do is to think and act for yourself." Dumarest tensed as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. "The guard. Can you get me out of here?"
Elaine shook her head.
"Why not? He has to let you out and you can take me with you. Tell him that you have to conduct some special tests or something."
"It wouldn't work," she said regretfully. "You don't understand. They are afraid of you and there are guards posted beyond each end of the corridor. If we leave together they will incapacitate us both."
"Incapacitate? Why not kill?"
She glanced toward the medical trolley. "You seem to be very important and now I've a suspicion why. The samples I took are to confirm tests already made. Your tissues are sympathetic to those of the Technarch." She paused then added, "And Vargas is a very old man."
Dumarest said tightly, "Get me out of here."
"I can't. I told you, it's impossible."
"You've a stack of degrees and a headful of knowledge," he said sharply. "Use that intelligence you're so proud of. Help me or I'll ruin your life."
She studied his face, the hard set of his mouth, the savage determination of his eyes. "You mean it. You really mean it?"
"Yes," he said. "You'd better believe that."
* * *
The guard came running at her call. He halted beyond the bars, looking to where she stooped over Dumarest as he lay on the bed.
"Madam? Is anything wrong?"
"This man is ill," she snapped. "Dying. Summon help immediately. He must be taken to the hospital at once."
He hesitated. "My orders-"
"To hell with your orders! This is an emergency! Move!"
"I'll call a doctor."
"You stupid fool!" Her eyes blazed with impatient anger. "I am a doctor! I tell you this man is dying. He needs immediate surgery. Now do as I say. Quickly. If you delay and he dies, you will answer for it. Now hurry!"
Her tone, sharp with fear, spurred him to action. From the end of the corridor came a blur of voices and the sounds of movement. Elaine dropped her hands to Dumarest's chest, thrusting with the heels of her palms in the basic actions of heart massage. Her breath was warm against his cheek as she whispered quick instructions.
"Remain lax as if you were unconscious. Roll up your eyes in case anyone makes a simple test. Restrain your breathing if anyone comes close or, if you cannot hold your breath, make it ragged and irregular. It would be better if I drugged you. There will be other physicians."
"No. Have you slow-time?"
"Not with me. In the hospital, yes. Is that what you want?"
"Use it if you can. I-" He broke off, falling silent as men streamed down the corridor. They brought a wheeled stretcher, waiting as the door of the cell slid aside, entering to lift Dumarest on the vehicle. Continuing her massage Elaine walked beside him, shielding him with her body, maintaining the pretense, as they passed the guards. One of them busied himself with a phone as they headed toward an elevator, Dumarest catching his tone of frantic urgency.
Unable to hold his breath any longer he inhaled with a tearing rasp, forcing saliva into his throat to produce a liquid gurgling.
A man said, "He sounds bad, madam. What's the matter with him?"
"Syncopic failure coupled with internal seepage of lymphatic fluids into the lungs. Probably internal hemorrhage and a malfunction of involuntary muscular responses aggravated by extreme exhaustion and psychic shock."
The elevator came to a halt, doors opening, the wheels of the stretcher humming over a smooth floor. More doors, the sound of muted voices and the taint of antiseptics. The hands lifted from his chest and touched his mouth. Something hard and cold was thrust against his tongue.
Elaine whispered, "Yendhal is coming. I heard them notify him what happened."
Dumarest groaned and heaved on the stretcher. Through slitted eyes he saw the uniforms of watchful guards. Elaine stooped over him, the spatula hard against his tongue. Her eyes were anxious, afraid.
"What now?"
He relaxed, unable to answer, forcing the woman to think for herself. If she had sense she would think of an answer but it would have to be soon. At the moment she was operating on fear, caught in events over which she had little control, her intelligence numbed by the shock of recent disclosures.
The spatula left his mouth and he felt the touch of something cold on his chest. An electronic stethoscope? It rose and pressed against his throat. He spoke, sub-vocally, only a sighing murmur passing his lips.
"Get the guards out of here or get me somewhere out of sight."
The instrument left his throat, and he heard the sharpness of the woman's command.
"This man needs immediate operative surgery. You will leave the room while I have him prepared."
One of the guards said firmly, "We have our orders. He is not to leave our sight."
"I cannot work with you watching. For one thing you are medically unclean. If he should become infected because of bacteria carried on your persons I shall not be responsible." Her tone softened a little. "I appreciate your dilemma but he cannot walk let alone escape. You can wait outside. There is no other exit from this room. Now please hurry. Every second lost lessens his chances of recovery."
The door closed and she said faintly. "All right, Earl. You've had your way so far. Now what?"
He opened his eyes and rose from the stretcher looking around. The room was small and lined with cabinets containing medical equipment. The bright glitter of operating instruments shone from a tray: forceps, shears, scalpels of various sizes. He picked up the largest.
"You're a barbarian," she said contemptuously. "A savage. All you know is how to lie and kill."
"You think I lied?"
"I don't know. You threw me into a panic and I acted without due consideration. That was unscientific. I should have gathered more data, tested the truth of what you said, made my own judgments. I was a fool."
"You still are," he said harshly. "A fool and worse. You are a traitor to your own land."
"Loame-"
"Means nothing to you," he interrupted. "And it means even less to me. I came here to ask you for help and that is all. The rest simply happened. Now all I want is to get away from here. To take passage to another world. If I have to kill a dozen men to do it, I shall. The alternative isn't pleasant."