"They'll need feeding," said Neary. "If they don't they'll go comatose and sporifulate. If that happens they won't be worth the atoms used to move them. Lost profit always makes me angry. Need I say more?"
"I get the picture."
"And your friend?" Neary grunted as Angado nodded.
"Good enough. It'll cost you two hundred." He paused for a moment then added, "Each."
"We don't have to dodge the gate."
"So?"
"So we can afford to haggle." Dumarest reached for the flagon and poured all goblets full. "How many mikha are you carrying? A full load? I thought so. You know how much blood they're going to need? I see you do." He lifted his goblet. "Your health, Captain. Now let's start talking sense."
The drum began to pulse again as they left the tavern, the deal made, the wine finished. Angado staggered a little as he stepped into the open air; with Dumarest doing the talking he'd had nothing to do but sit and drink. Now he halted and stared at the field.
"Why not go aboard now, Earl? Neary wouldn't mind."
"We've things to do." Dumarest led the way back into town. "We need plasma," he explained. "It'll eke out our blood. Some frozen whole-blood too. We can get it at the infirmary."
"Why couldn't Neary?"
"He'd have to pay," said Dumarest, patiently. "This way he gets paid."
Together with free labor to handle the cargo. Angado smiled as he thought about it then lost the smile as he tripped and almost fell. Standing beside Dumarest, motionless, he heard a soft scrape of boots.
"Earl-"
"Be quiet!"
Dumarest had heard it too; the grate of soles on the grit deposited by the wind. It came again from a point behind and was echoed from a point ahead. The sounds of wayfarers making their way home or crewmen heading for the field and their vessels. But few roamed the streets of Yuanka at night and crewmen had no reason to creep through the darkness.
"Thieves," whispered Angado. "At least two of them. Waiting for us, Earl?"
If so they wouldn't wait for long and there would be more than two. Dumarest sniffed at the air and caught the scent of sweat and wine coupled with another, unmistakable odor.
The stink of Lowtown and, smelling it, he knew the danger they were in.
"Move." He touched Angado on the arm. "Slowly. Stagger and make noise. Pretend we're together. If anyone comes at you don't hesitate. Hit out and run."
Dumarest crossed the street as Angado began to sing, the noise covering the rasp of his own boots. Shadows swallowed him as, staggering, the younger man lurched down the street talking as if to a companion.
"Good wine, eh? And that dancer was really good. I'd like to know her better. Have her dance just for me." A pause then, "Why not? My money's good. I bet she'd agree if I asked. Damn it, Earl, let's go back and put it to the test. Five hundred. I'll give her five hundred if-" A rattle as Angado walked into a garbage can. "What the hell is that?" And then, louder, "Who the hell are you?"
They came running from either end of the street, four shadows which solidified into men. Shapes which carried lengths of pipe which whistled as they cut through the air.
As the bottle Angado had snatched from the garbage whistled to land with a soggy impact on the pale oval of a face.
Dumarest was running before he hit the ground, his hand moving, the knife it held giving it heft and weight, the pommel smashing against a temple to send a second attacker down. A third followed, screaming, hands clutching his groin and Dumarest turned to hear the gong-sound of beaten metal as the pipe the remaining man held slammed against the garbage can Angado had lifted to use as a shield. One blow and then the pipe fell and the man was running to vanish in the darkness.
"Come on!" Dumarest ran, halting as a whistle broke the silence, turning to head back in the opposite direction. "Quick!"
The four would not have been alone. Others would have been placed as lookouts, the whistle a signal from one of them. Hunting packs followed a pattern the same if animal or human. To surround, to run down, to attack, to kill and then to feed.
Dumarest slowed as he reached the mouth of an alley, speeded as he found it innocent, slowing again as he neared the end of the street. Another crossed it forming a junction restricting his choice to a right or left turn.
As the whistle came again from behind, louder, more imperious, he headed toward the left, Angado following.
To the men waiting with flashlights and guns and nets which caught them both like flies in a sticky web.
Chapter Ten
The cell was a box ten feet long, eight wide, eight high. One fitted with a double bunk and primitive facilities. The door was a barred grill, the window another. Through it Dumarest had seen the dawn come to lighten the sky, the blue shimmer as the Audran had headed into space. At noon a guard took them to an office.
It was as bleak as the cell, holding little more than chairs, a desk, the terminal of a computer. The official seated at the desk was old, tired, heavy lines marring the contours of his face.
"Be seated." Inspector Vernajean gestured at chairs. "I think this can be kept informal. But before we begin do either of you have any complaints as to how you have been treated?"
"No." Dumarest had a bruised cheek, Angado a cut lip and a welt on his forehead. "None at all."
"Good." Vernajean relaxed a little. The injuries could have been accidental but the older of the two had the sense not to make an issue of them. "Last night we received reports of prowlers in the Voe district of the city. A patrol was sent to investigate and you were apprehended. Apparently you were running from the scene of a crime. Other men were also seen but managed to elude arrest. Well?"
Dumarest said, "It was a coincidence."
"Explain."
"We were making our way from the field and heard someone cry out for help. There were too many for us to handle so we ran to get assistance. That's when you caught us."
"Can you describe the men?"
"No, it was dark."
"How many were there?"
"About six."
"Four attacking two others?" Vernajean didn't wait for an answer. "In a way you were lucky to be caught. The patrol disturbed men who had been waiting for you. Scum of Lowtown who had broken curfew as had the others. Does the name Birkut mean anything to you?"
"I've seen him."
"And Yuli?"
"No."
"Gengiz's brother. He's sworn to kill you but you know that. He's taken over and maybe he's getting impatient. That attack could be repeated and the next time you needn't be so fortunate. You appreciate my position?"
Angado said, "We were attacked and had to fight for our lives and all you worry about is your position? How about doing your duty? If you know who was responsible then go after them and make them answer. Why are-"