"As you did Balain." Dumarest saw the captain frown, glanced at Renzi and saw his blank expression. "You know him?"
"No. Damn you, Earl, you-"
"I wasn't accusing you, just stating a fact. The Sivas is a prime factor in the revolution. It has been used to bring the insurgents arms and explosives. It could even have supplied their leader."
"Balain? No."
"How can you be certain, Captain? Men have been smuggled before."
"Not on my ship." Tuvey looked down at his hands, unclenched them, then halted the automatic movement of one toward his empty shoulder. He frowned, missing his pet, an irritation exploded into anger. "Damn you for a fool! Why can't you leave well enough alone? This is a nice, pleasant world and I want to keep it that way.
That's why I keep it secret and why I'm reluctant to carry passengers. Now you've spoiled it with your talk of revolution and arms and explosives. There was an accident, that's all, and-"
"Men tried to kill me."
"So you say. But what reason could they have had? A woman?" Tuvey glanced at Sardia then at Ursula. "Another woman? Didn't you have the sense to leave the Ohrm alone?"
"Did Balain?"
"To hell with Balain! He's just a name you picked up from somewhere. I've never seen him and wouldn't know him if I did. If he exists at all he's some crazy fool chasing dreams."
"No," said Dumarest. "He's not crazy and he's not chasing a dream. What he wants he can get. And what he wants is to end the rule of the Choud."
Casavet laughed. He laughed as he had at the first mention of the rebellion, jowls quivering, tears streaming from his eyes. A man convulsed with genuine amusement.
"Earl, my friend, you will kill me with your jokes. Balain destroy the Choud? One man?" He broke into fresh peals and ended gasping and dabbing at his eyes. "The thing is inconceivable. You don't know-how could you? You don't understand. If you did you would realize how incredible the concept is. One man, even the entire Ohrm, couldn't harm us. The Choud cannot be overthrown."
"You are wrong," said Dumarest. "And you are making the biggest mistake which could ever be made by a ruling class. You consider yourselves to be invulnerable and that your rule will last forever. If history has anything to teach us at all it is the fact that such conviction is the prelude to inevitable defeat."
"Nonsense!"
Dumarest shrugged. "It's your world."
"And a strong one."
"Strong?" Goblets stood on a nearby table; fine-stemmed containers of engraved crystal with fluted rims and delicate curves. Dumarest selected one and held it between his outstretched fingers. "Strong," he said. "I could stand on it and it would carry my weight if I chose how to position it. It's beautiful, too. As strong and as beautiful as your world." He opened his fingers and, as the goblet fell to shatter on the floor, added, "And as brittle."
Chapter Twelve
Tuvey was gruff. He said, "Here you are, my lady, safe to your door. No revolutionaries can get you now."
Sardia forced herself to smile at the weak joke. Cornelius, despite his promise, had failed to join her and the captain had escorted her home. Now he stood, a little awkward, arm lifted as his fingers searched for his missing pet. He noticed her eyes and lowered his hand.
"I miss him," he said simply. "Borol wasn't much to look at but he was company of a kind. The sort which doesn't make demands. You know?"
"Yes, Captain, I know."
"A man needs a companion in space. Something or someone who can be close. Some men travel together most of their lives but I've never met anyone with whom I could be that friendly. It makes a difference."
To a man and to a ship-the Sivas had been cold with a chill owing nothing to the lack of heat. Sardia said, "I mustn't detain you. Your hostess will be looking for me with daggers if she thinks I'm keeping you from her side."
"Etallia?" His shrug was eloquent. "We're used to each other and that's about all. She knows better than to be jealous."
"No woman knows that, Captain."
"And not all women can tolerate a man as ugly as I am." He was stating a fact, not fishing for a compliment. "I know it and she knows I know it. Knows, too, that I can't afford to be independent while on Ath. That's something Renzi has yet to learn. The stupid bastard!"
"His mouth?"
"His damned carelessness. Borol didn't like him-he used to tease the beast when I wasn't around. I would have kept him with me but Etallia wouldn't hear of it. So I left him in the control room. I guessed he liked to be put on guard and he was snug enough in his box but Renzi had to go after him. He must have tormented the poor creature and it tried to run." He added savagely, "He'll pay for a new radio and compensate me for the loss of my pet before I get rid of him. I swear to that!"
"The radio was Renzi's doing?"
"Yes. He confessed earlier this evening while we watched the gambling. The fool was high and thought it a joke. I'll give him a joke. If he ever lands on this world again it won't be on my ship." Tuvey swallowed and lifted his hand in a brisk salute; one learned half a galaxy away when young. "I've kept you standing out here long enough. Good night, madam."
"Good night, Captain."
Politeness which held a cold formality, the formality itself a sense of security. Rules by which people chose to live; a custom which could be appreciated and a discipline which provided support as well as barriers. Did the Choud have something similar? Were there areas of privacy into which none could intrude without condemnation?
Why had Cornelius broken his word?
The answer was in the studio and she paused at the door seeing the figure slumped in the chair before the easel and feeling a sharp anxiety before she noticed the rise and fall of his chest, heard the susurration of ragged breathing.
"Cornelius!" He was asleep, sunk in a numbing exhaustion, not even the slap of her palm against his cheek enough to arouse him. "Cornelius, wake up!" Again she slapped the flaccid cheek. "Wake up!"
"Who-" He stirred, one hand lifting, the fingers thickly smeared with paint. "What-"
"Wake up!" Spirit stood close at hand. She gushed it on a rag and held the rising vapors beneath his nostrils. "Cornelius! Please!"
He stirred again, the hand blindly groping, eyelids twitching. She thrust the rag beneath his nose, the sting of the spirit against delicate membranes an added stimulus, then, as he reared a little, kissed him full on the lips.
"Sardia!" He rose higher to sit upright, his arms closing around her. "Sardia, my darling!"
The kiss had been a wind kindling latent desire to a dancing flame. She felt it as she retreated, sensed her own response, and rose to step backward well away from his reach.
"You promised to join me. What happened?"
"I was working and must have lost track of time." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I feel exhausted. The box. Pass me that box."
She handed it to him and watched as he opened it to reveal swollen yellow pods. He lifted one and slipped it into his mouth, biting, leaning back as he chewed. The transformation was amazing, within seconds the muscles of his face had firmed, the flaccidity born of fatigue washed away together with his fatigue.
"Tekoa," he said. "At times it helps. Helps you to relax, that is. Helps you to drift and think and plan and see everything in bright colors." Fatigue had given way to euphoria and he sensed it. With an effort he added, "I don't use it often."
"Would it matter if you did?"
"Perhaps not but-" He broke off, giggling, becoming abruptly sober again. "I'm sorry. It hits you like this sometimes. The contrast-don't worry about it. I'll get over it soon."