He fell silent as the raft began to drop, the antigrav units humming as the driver manipulated the controls.
Without turning he said, "Phindarl get your team and gear ready. You're first to go."
"This the right place?" A man at the front of the raft sounded suspicious. "I want to be set down right."
"At the foot of Peak 17. Right?"
"That's about it." The man rose, sealing his helmet, his voice booming from the diaphragm. "Come on, boys, we can't afford to waste time."
The raft settled, the canopy opening, the men jumping out after their packs. Without looking back they trudged toward the foot of the hills, sand pluming from beneath their boots. Dumarest knew that, as soon as the raft was out of sight, they would change direction. Favored spots and entries into the hills were closely guarded secrets.
As they rose from dropping the other team, Hine pointed at the desert. "There! See?"
A ripple ran over the sand. A line which wavered, lengthened as they watched, then abruptly curved to vanish.
"A big one," said the guide. "And close to the surface. One scouting for a mate like as not and all the more dangerous because of it."
"Not a female, then."
"No." Hine looked at Dumarest. "You know as much as most. A female would be looking for a cavern to lay her eggs. They run at times but not as often and usually go much deeper than the males. The bulls run wild when they're in heat or affected in some way and then the entire surface gets covered with trails. When that happens a storm is certain." He glanced at the range passing to one side. "Much farther to go?"
"Worried?"
"No, Earl, but the main finds are made back there." He jerked his head toward the rear. "Closer to the city."
And so all the more searched. Dumarest said nothing as the raft moved on, only speaking when it began to drop.
"Not there! Drop us on the summit!"
"You said to drop you at the foot of Peak 86."
"I've changed my mind. Take us lower down and set us on a flat space close to the upper peaks. There! See? Drop us there!"
"It's your funeral." Shrugging, the driver obeyed. "But if you find anything here I'll eat it. Got all your gear? Right. Be seeing you-maybe."
He hadn't wished them luck as he'd done the others and Hine stared after the retreating raft. "The bastard! Earl, you upset him."
"Too bad." Dumarest stood, waiting. Only when the raft was a tiny mote lancing toward the city did he move. "Right, get the gear. We'll rope together and head down that ledge. I spotted a cave down there and it could lead into others. What do you think, Zarl?"
The guide hesitated, pleased that his opinion should be asked but doubtful as to what his answer should be. He decided to be honest.
"I think we could be wasting our time. The sannaks dont run up into the hills. They burrow deep and feed on outcroppings below the surface. That's why the others asked to be dropped where they did. They walk a way then find a mouth and enter to search. This way-" He broke off, shaking his head. "I don't know, Earl, and that's the truth of it. This is new to me."
And to most as Jwani had explained. Those who searched for trannaks followed a predictable pattern but he had worked out new methods based on the habits of the beasts. Dumarest was basing his actions on what he had learned.
He explained, "If we do what the others are doing well have no better chance than they have. Less as only one of us is experienced. This way, if I'm right we can move fast and cut down the risks. If I'm wrong we can go back to the old way. Now, Zarl, it's up to you."
Only a fool would hire an expert and then ignore his advice. Dumarest had deliberately placed the man in charge and would obey him unless and until he made obvious mistakes or showed too much reluctance.
The guide said, "Right The first thing we do is to seal up and stay sealed until we tent. Out here a sudden flurry of wind can drive grit into your eyes and before you could get it out you could be dead. Down under you'll be sending out signals all the time and it's suicide to amplify them."
"Signals?"
"Vibrations." Zarl looked at the mercenary. "Each time you take a step you send out vibrations. Each time you move or talk. Old hunters use sign language but we haven't time for that. And there's body heat and humidity. Even with the suits tight-sealed some gets through. To stay alive you must never forget what it is we're up against." He turned, looking at the desert rolling away from the foot of the range, the sky resting like a clear bowl of tinted azure above. A mote showed, falling in a shimmer of blue from its Erhaft Field, sound echoing as sonic waves signaled its descent. "Hell," he said. "It's a ship."
There would be a storm, Ellain was sure of it. All afternoon she had sat at the window looking toward the distant loom of the Goulten Hills, feeling the constriction of her stomach as the tension mounted. And yet the day had remained calm, the surface of the desert undisturbed aside from the thin, whipping lines which broke the surface far away lines which her imagination multiplied with dire foreboding.
The hum of the phone caused her heart to pound.
"Yes?" It was Yunus, smiling, smoothly bland. "I thought you had died," she snapped at the screen. "How long has it been?"
"Too long, my dear, and I am touched that you have missed me. But surely you did not lack companionship?" His smile was the bared snarl of a feline. "Am I to believe that you have waited patiently for me to call?"
He knew, she could sense it, and cursed the spying maid and her love of money. She must have informed him of all that had happened. Well, what of it? He didn't own her and had only himself to blame for having neglected her. If he had been at her side would she have found Dumarest so attractive? She knew the answer-always she would sense his appeal.
She said, harshly, feigning anger, "Are you questioning me?"
"My dear, I am merely calling to ask if you will accommodate me. A small favor I am sure you will not begrudge. I want you to appear at a dinner I am giving this evening for a very special guest. Later, naturally, we can talk."
A threat? It was like him and she was uneasily aware of how vulnerable she was. More now than before and if he should turn vindictive-
"A guest? One just arrived?"
"Yes, my dear. Cyber Tosya."
He was tall, thin to the point of emaciation, his shaven head giving his face a taut, skull-like appearance. He wore a robe of shimmering scarlet the great seal of the Cyclan glowing on its breast. His sleeves were wide, his hands long-fingered, smooth, the ends rounded, the nails filed to slender points. His eyes were large and held the glow of trained intelligence. His voice was a clear modulation carefully enunciated and eliminate all irritant factors.
Meeting him, Ellain shivered.
There was something inhuman about the man, a cold, hard, inflexible core which she with her woman's intuition both resented and feared. A creature of emotion herself she lacked any empathy with another to whom emotion was an aberration. Tosya could never feel as she did. Never know hate and love and anger and joy. Training and an operation at puberty had divorced reason from glandular influence.
Food, to him, was fuel and a body overburdened with unessential tissue was an inefficient machine. Pain was foreign to him as was desire. His only pleasure lay in intellectual achievement.
Tosya, like all cybers, was a living robot of flesh and blood.
Now he sat in the place of honor at the table and listened to the ebb and flow of conversation. The heaped dishes and various wines left him unmoved as had the entertainment provided. If anything they proved the inadequacy of those who were slaves to emotion. But the conversation held interest; much could be learned from a few idly related facts.