"There is no doubt?"
"None." Icelus lifted Elge's arm and released it. The limb stayed where he had left it. "You see? He has relinquished all mental control. The autonomic system of his body continues to function, naturally; if that had ceased he would be dead."
A word-Elge breathed, his heart beat, blood flowed through his organs but, as far as a living creature was concerned, he was dead. Without a mind he was little more than a vegetable.
"How?" Icelus looked at the attachments which Jarvet had removed and which now lay on the desk. "I see. You warned that something like this could happen. Did he leave notes?"
A tape to which they listened then; as it fell silent, Jarvet said, "It is obvious he became a victim of the same malady which had affected so many units of Central Intelligence. However he was certain that the condition was not caused by any disease or sickness. That it is, in effect, an acute heightening of the perceptions leading to an alteration in the viewpoint which leads to a change of mental frames of reference which had little or no association with the universe as we know it."
"A good definition of insanity," said Icelus. "What happened to his theory that the derangement was due to sensory deprivation?"
The tape gave the answer, Elge's voice coming in its even modulation from the speaker as Jarvet found the place.
"As a theory it has served its purpose and can now be discarded. From our experiments we have learned that there is a close correlation between catatonic withdrawal and mental ability. The higher the intelligence and the more disciplined the mind the greater is the ability to survive sensory deprivation. All cybers have a trained and finely edged mind. All suffer from some form of sensory deprivation for the major part of their lives. All anticipate the total cessation of bodily stimuli as the reward for dedicated obedience to the Cyclan. The laws that apply to emotionally crippled organisms do not apply to those free of such handicaps. The conclusion, therefore, is that the apparent derangement must be due to a growing awareness of mental capability on the parts of the units affected. To discover the real nature of this development is the basis of my experiments."
The tests and trials had ruined his mind, leading to the subtle addiction to madness that had brought him to his present condition. Jarvet looked down at the man whom he had served since his elevation to the highest office the Cyclan had to offer. Elge had failed, as his predecessor had failed, to find Dumarest and the cure of the affinity twin-who now would take his place?
Ysanne was restless, pacing the salon like a caged tiger, snapping at Batrun when he tried to offer condolences and reassurances.
"The old bitch has him fast and doesn't want to let him go. Soon it will be dark-another night and how many yet to come?"
"Probably none. Earl will be here as soon as he can."
"If he wants to come. If she hasn't bribed him with soft-bodied women-God knows she has enough at her disposal. Money too and-oh, the hell with it. I want a drink!"
She found it in a bar at the edge of the field and stood in a corner sipping a thick wine which tasted of oil and grease. Imagination, probably, but she forced it down hoping to numb her senses and quiet her nerves. She was acting the fool and knew it but the knowledge didn't help. Dumarest would come to her when he was ready and she had no right or reason to act like a jealous idiot. No wonder Batrun had thrown up his hands and gone to help Craig with the generator. Shandhar, too, had stayed well out of her way. He was a fool like the rest-couldn't he see she was concerned for them all?
The bar began to get crowded, workers coming in from the field, eager to shelter from the rain. A couple of guards entered, shaking rain from their capes, followed by a man who stared at her with frank admiration, another, more bold, who halted to take her arm. His companion drew him away at her frown; older, he knew what could happen to an impulsive male on a world ruled by women.
When the music blared from a machine, she'd had enough and went outside to feel the drizzle on her face. The wine hadn't had any affect and she guessed it had been watered or the pills Batrun had given her after the ball were still negating the alcohol. The palace drew her toward it and she was facing the door when Dumarest emerged. For a moment she stared at him and then was running to clasp him in her arms. "Earl! I was getting worried!"
"No need. How are things at the ship?"
"As you might expect." She was chilled by his attitude. "The Hausi cooperated once the old cow met her obligation and met that note." She saw the ring on his hand. "A bonus?"
"You could call it that."
"Or a love-gift? I could call it that too."
"You can call it anything you want." Dumarest lifted it to look at the stone. "I call it fuel when we need it and supplies and stuff to help us on our way." He smelled her breath. "What have you been drinking?"
"They called it wine. I got it in that place at the edge of the field. Starrest, I think, some name like that."
"A dive." He took her by the arm. "Let's find somewhere decent so as to dodge this rain."
It was large, the room low-roofed, set with tables and benches. A tavern which held a warm comfort with windows that showed the darkening sky. A good place to be- compared to the other it was a palace against a slum. A youngster brought them a bottle dusted with sparkles and glasses engraved with interwound figures engaged in an ancient pastime. Pouring, he stirred the air with empty chatter.
"Did you see it? A public burning-I tried to get away but the mistress is strict and said I was too young and anyway, the place needed cleaning. I think she was afraid of my finding a better situation. The talk is that there could be more executions and if there are I'm going to attend no matter what. Not that there's much danger of losing my job. Once the word gets around we'll be run off our feet with the extra trade. A spectacle like that is bound to bring in the tourists. One thing you've got to hand to the matriarch she knows how to rule. Once let a rebel get a step out of line and who knows where things will end?"
"Bodies on every standard," said Dumarest. "Burnings every night. In a year you'll be famous."
"That's right." The youngster missed the irony. "Anything else, my lord?"
Dumarest said, "What have you to eat?"
"Some shredded meat roasted before an open fire and dusted with spice. Marinated fowl. Three kinds of bread and a soup so thick you could float a ship on it. If you want the full meal I could arrange a table in the restaurant or if you only want a snack you could have it here."
"A snack," said Dumarest. "Meat and some bread. Serve it here."
Ysanne laughed as the youth hurried away. "He must have heard of you, Earl. He acts as if you're his hero."
"No, he's afraid of displeasing you. Watch his eyes when he returns."
They flickered from her face to Dumarest and back again as if he waited a clue before speaking, as he put the food on the table and looked at the tip Dumarest had given him.
"Thank you, my lord. If there's anything more you want just let me know. We've fine rooms upstairs if you've the need for a soft bed and a bit of privacy." His eyes moved to Ysanne. "My lady?"
"Later, maybe. I'll let you know." Her smile widened as she followed the youth with her eyes. "I could enjoy living on a world like this. At least women aren't treated as chattels." She frowned. "Earl?" He had turned away from her to stare after a retreating figure. "Earl, is something wrong?"
"That man."
He frowned, trying to remember the fleeting glimpse he'd caught of the face. With deep lines and beetling brows, the cheeks blotched with purple scars, the face was not easily forgotten.
He'd last seen it on Zabul!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN