"Think about it," advised Dumarest. "Now let's see if I can cash this note."
The man behind the counter was snobbishly supercilious. He picked up the paper with caution, nose wrinkling at the odor of human perspiration, unfolding it as if it could bite.
"Yours?"
"It's mine." Dumarest leaned over the counter thrusting his face toward the other. "A bearer promissory note, right? You pay whoever presents it. I'm presenting it."
"I meant was it issued to you?"
"It's a bearer note." Dumarest let impatience edge his tone. "What the hell does it matter who it was issued to? I've got it. Check it out and give me the money."
"If you'd like to wait? Come back later-"
"Now!" Dumarest looked beyond the man. "You the boss here? If you can't handle the job maybe I'd better speak to someone who can."
He relaxed as the man hurried away to confer with others. The note was genuine, drawn on the Credit Debutin, carrying Angado's signature, code number and thumbprint. Those details could be checked against the computer data in the bank. He straightened as the cashier returned, another man at his side. One who waited until they were alone.
"Mister-?" He shrugged as Dumarest made no answer. "No matter. I'm the manager here and I'm afraid I have bad news for you. This note of yours cannot be met."
"You mean it's a fake?"
"No, I'm not saying that. It seems genuine enough and normally I'd accept it but there are no longer funds to meet it."
"He's broke?"
"Not broke-dead. The account has been closed." Frowning the manager added, "It's odd. You're the second man who's come in asking about that account. The other claimed to be the person himself."
"Maybe he was."
"Impossible. The report from head office was most explicit. That's why no money can be paid against that note. Of course you can make due representation to the estate for settlement but that will take time. My advice to you is to sell it. You'll have to take a loss, naturally, but-"
"Sell it? Who the hell would buy junk like this?"
"At a quarter face value?" The manager met Dumarest's eyes. "I would for one-the Karroum own most of Lychen."
Chapter Nine
Angado had gone when Dumarest emerged from the bank, the monk seated in his place. Brother Lloyd looked tired, grateful for the tisane he had been given. As Dumarest approached he looked up and began to rise from his chair.
"Sit down." Dumarest dropped into the space facing him. "Did he leave word?"
"Yes. He's in there." The monk gestured toward the casino. "He said to be sure and tell you where he had gone."
A fool unable to restrain his impatience and seeking novelty to pass the time. Dumarest helped himself to some of the tisane and leaned back in his chair as he sipped the fragrant brew. Thoughtful as he reviewed the situation.
Angado was a liability and yet it was hard to think of him as such. A danger; those who wanted him dead would try again and to be close was to invite disaster. A man now without assets and only one proven skill. Yet he held potential value; the resources of his House and Family. Wealth, influence, power-things Dumarest could use in his search for Earth and that search could begin on Lychen where Angado belonged.
He stood at a table, face flushed with excitement as he watched the bounding progress of a ball. One which bounced at the edges of ranked divisions to hover and finally come to rest.
"Red. Even. Eighteen." The croupier's voice was a drone. "Place your bets."
Angado had lost. He lost again. As he went to put more coins on the board Dumarest caught his arm.
"We need to talk."
"You're back! Good!" Angado smiled his pleasure. "One more turn and I'll be with you."
"Now!"
"One more turn."
He played and lost and ordered wine as he led the way to a table set in an alcove flanked with mirrors. The girl who brought it was young, enticing in her slit gown, smiling as she saw her tip.
"Anything else, my lord?"
"Food. A plate of delicacies. The best."
"No food." Dumarest was harsh. "Not yet." Then, as Angado made to protest, he added, savagely, "Do as you like after we've spoken. Now we have things to settle. Why didn't you tell me you were rich?"
"I'm not. I told you about the arrangement. Anyway, what does it matter?" Angado sipped, drank, refilled his glass. "Drink up, Earl, enjoy yourself. We can afford it."
"No."
"Why not? You got the money, didn't you?"
"A quarter of face value." Dumarest stacked coins on the table. "Your share. All you're going to get. If you want to squander it go ahead. It's your money."
Looking at it Angado said, slowly, "What are you telling me?"
"You're dead. Officially dead. No cash and no credit. Your notes won't be met. From now on you make your own way." Dumarest picked up his glass, lifted it in a mock toast. "Freedom, Angado. Let's drink to it-you can't afford to waste the wine."
He watched as Angado obeyed, the truth swallowed with the ruby liquid, cold realization dampening the euphoria of alcohol. As yet life to Angado had been an adventure, one padded by the cushions of wealth, now those cushions had been tweaked away and he was going to get hurt.
Dumarest said, "Think of Lowtown. Remember it. That's where you could wind up unless you're careful. Bear it in mind, the dirt, the stink, the decay." The grinding poverty, the pain, the desperation. An alien world to one accustomed to riches. A hostile one to a man arrogant with the memory of wealth. "Do you still feel hungry?"
Angado shook his head, remembering the cost of the wine, the loss at the table.
"What are you going to do?"
"Get back to Lychen. There has to be some mistake. Perotto will correct it. He-"
"Wants you dead!" snapped Dumarest. "And you're a fool not to see it. Remain a fool and you'll die alone. I mean it."
"You'll leave me?"
"I've no time for a man who refuses to help himself. You're dead, Angado. It's only a matter of time before you're in the ground. That's just what will happen when you meet Perotto unless-" He broke off and waited for the other to recognize the obvious.