The field was heavy with dust, the Lucita a blurred shape to the edge and close to the fence. The ramp was down and Dumarest slowed as he neared its foot. At his side Ysanne glared her impatience.
"Hurry, Earl! The others are inside. If there's danger we've got to get in and seal the hull."
The obvious course, but Dumarest took his time. The ship seemed deserted, the area around devoid of life, if there was any threat at all it would be lying within the hull.
"You could have been mistaken," she said. "You only caught a glimpse of the man and he'd gone when I tried to spot him. At least I couldn't recognize anyone. Let's get inside and seal up."
"You go first," he said. "Give me three minutes then walk up the ramp. I'll use the emergency lock."
It engulfed him after she had entered to pass him through the hull and into the hold. It was deserted and he edged toward the engine room hearing small noises; the tap of metal against metal, the murmur of conversation. Sounds grew louder as he opened the door to show the newly assembled generator, the figures kneeling beside it. Craig and Batrun were apparently engrossed in their work, hands before them and hidden by their bodies. The tapping and murmur were as loud and as regular as before.
"Ysanne?"
"Here!" Dumarest tensed as he heard her voice. "I'm here-Earl! Be careful!"
The warning came too late. Dumarest heard the soft pad of a foot behind him, turned, felt the hard muzzle of a gun rammed against the lower region of his back.
"Move and you'll be a cripple," said Pendance. "Not really harmed but just unable to walk. Now do we talk like civilized beings or do I pull this trigger?"
He was as Dumarest remembered, suave, smiling, gems glittering on his hands, his clothing of expensive weave. A man who carried the odor of sweet flowers as if to disguise the stench of his chosen trade. He stepped from behind Dumarest as they entered the engine room to stand well to one side, Ysanne in the crook of his arm.
"That's better." His tone held a flaunting mockery. "You will never know how much I've missed you, my dear. The soft touch of your warm and demanding flesh. The pressure of your lips. Your words and passion." His free hand closed, fingers digging with sadistic pleasure into the mound of a breast. "Tell your new lover that, if he moves, I will turn you into a creature of nightmare." The gun moved to rest its snout against her jaw. "Do I make myself clear?"
A question Dumarest ignored as he looked around. At the generator the two figures remained as when he had first seen them. The noises he had heard came from a recorder, which fell silent as Pendance's companion touched a switch. Another he remembered from Zabul-how many more would there be?
"If you are hoping for the intervention of your steward then forget him." Pendance's voice held amusement. "Show him, Brice."
The man lifted a cover which rested close to the generator. Dumarest had thought it covered discarded components. Beneath it lay a huddled shape-Shandhar lying in the embrace of death, a small hole burned between his eyes.
"Was that necessary?"
Pendance shrugged. "Necessary? No. But he served as a convenient example to convince the others of the futility of resistance. And what need do I have for a steward? Steady, my dear!" His fingers dug deeper into the flesh beneath the beaded leather. "That's better. Just relax. Your turn will come soon enough."
"You followed us," said Dumarest. "How?"
"How could you think that I wouldn't?" For a moment naked fury blazed in the opaque eyes. "To destroy my men and steal my ship-did you think it would be forgotten? For that alone I would have hunted you as long as life remained. Add the fortune you will bring me from the Cyclan and my own interests and you need ask no more." For a moment he savored his triumph then condescended to explain. "A detector in the control room was activated when you left Zabul. I managed to convince the ruler of that delightful world that it would be in his best interests to cooperate with me to the extent of lending me a ship so as to rescue those left in the ship you attacked. A neat trick and you are to be congratulated-the damage was greater than you could have guessed. However, here we are and all debts can be paid."
As Shandhar had paid. Dumarest glanced at him then at the other two. They knelt like statues, the prisoners of quick time. Seeing them, hearing the recording, Ysanne had lost her caution and run into the trap. Now there seemed no escape.
"The knife," said Pendance. "The one in your boot. A small detail, I know, but I'd prefer it to be settled. Remove it, Brice, and bring it to me." He smiled as, freeing Ysanne, he took the blade and examined it. "A good weapon, my friend. It holds many secrets. I think I shall keep it as a souvenir."
As he tucked it beneath his blouse Dumarest said, "You've a good hand, Captain, but not the best. I hold the aces."
"What do you mean?"
"The Cyclan want me alive and unharmed. Kill me and you get nothing." He paused, then asked casually, "I assume you are working for a cyber? You did mention a reward."
"A large one."
"But not large enough. Throw in with me and I can guarantee you triple what they offered."
"Words."
"The truth. Check with the cyber. Where is he? Was he killed?"
"Hurt, but not killed. I left him on Zabul." The gun in Pendance's hand moved a little as it pointed at Dumarest. "And you won't be killed. How would you like a new job, Ysanne? That of acting as a nurse to your hero. You'll have to feed him and wipe his mouth because he'll have no hands. And you'll have to move him about because he'll have no feet. No legs either. No arms." His voice deepened into a snarl. "At this moment I think it would be worth killing him for the sheer pleasure of it. Can you guess at what he's done to my reputation? I'd like to burn him inch by inch-but no matter. We must not let personal irritations stand in the way of vast profits. Triple, you say?"
"At least." Dumarest took one step forward. "Let me tell you about it. It's a-"
The lift of the gun checked him as he took another step. Pendance said, "Don't make the stupid mistake of thinking me an amateur, my friend. And don't think I'm squeamish. I'd as soon deliver you a cripple as not. To be frank it would be easier and I'm a man who has a liking for simple things. Now, you were saying?"
"I'm important to the Cyclan, have you ever wondered why? Think about it for a while. If you were to hold out they would raise their offer, but why take a part when you could gain a quarter? Easy money, Captain, and just waiting to be collected. I've the knowledge and we have a ship and crew. Two ships-yours is on the field?"
"Keep talking."
He was being sadistic and Dumarest knew it; letting hope flower so as to increase the hurt when he cut it down. This warped sense of pleasure had led him to become a slaver, to enjoy what he did. Now he listened, apparently interested, as Dumarest spun a tale of a lost mine on an isolated world, filled with gems of price and with rare minerals lying in eroded veins awaiting collection.
"All this wealth," he said when Dumarest fell silent. "And you didn't bother to pick it up?"
"For another?" Dumarest shrugged. "Why make anyone rich when you can have it all. A quarter, Captain, all for yourself."
"A nice thought and a generous offer," admitted Pendance. "But why should the Cyclan want a mine? The thought intrigues me. A half, you say?"
"A quarter-there are others to be considered. Isn't that so, Ysanne?"
She nodded, barely understanding what was going on.
"Three of us," said Dumarest. "Me, my woman and-" He moved to stand beside her, reaching out, one hand patting her stomach. "-the one to come. A quarter is all I can offer."
A child? Pendance stared at the woman then at Dumarest. Where he stood to one side, Brice licked his lips at the picture of wealth he had heard painted.