"The enemy? None were found alive."
Or if alive had not lived long. That was a possibility but Dumarest discounted it; the Terridae were too gentle for ruthless murder. "Their bodies?"
They were down near the reclamation plant, stretched in a ragged line, stripped of their suits and looking like broken and discarded dolls. A half-dozen of them, more than Dumarest had expected. Hard-faced men bearing a common stamp. Mercenaries, trading in war, selling their skills and obedience to any willing to pay. Vellani lay to the far end, his hair cropped to form a dark cap over a peaked skull. His face was broad, the mouth cruel, a scar running over one cheek. A proud man who wore his name blazoned on the black and gold of his uniform. A wolf and the leader of wolves.
"From Sorkendo," said Althea when Dumarest glanced at her. "We searched them and found papers from that world. Some bills, a program to a local spectacle, some stamped photographs of women."
"Vellani?"
"Nothing. His pockets were empty aside from a medical pack containing a variety of drugs and some packs of narcotic gum." She added, "He carried a Taser in a sleeve holster and wore heavy rings."
The mark of a professional. Dumarest said, "He was the leader and the others must have been recently hired for the job. From Sorkendo?"
"According to their papers. It's a world lying toward the Zaragoza Cluster. I could find out how far if you want."
But that was academic. The men had come and been defeated; now other problems remained. Had they comrades in space? How long would they wait? Who had hired them and why?
The last question at least he could answer. Who but the Cyclan wanted to hunt him down?
Althea said, "One other thing, Earl. Those ships we saw which vanished-they've come back. Volodya has invited one to land."
It hung in space inching gently toward the port, smooth, sleek, obviously well-maintained. A free-trader which had been adapted and Dumarest could guess why. At his side as he watched it in the screen Volodya said, "The Moira commanded by Captain Pendance. I thought it best to permit him to land and discuss the situation."
"You must have had a long talk."
"Long enough."
"For what? To be conned? Where is the other ship? Waiting out there ready to blast Zabul to scrap if the Moira is threatened?"
"There is no other ship," said Volodya. "It's gone. We deal with Captain Pendance alone."
An illusion and he was a fool if he believed it, but Dumarest sensed that Volodya was acting with calculated intent. Sensed too the augmented aura of power he wore, which was betrayed in his stance, the tilt of his head, the tone of his voice-the trappings of arrogance bora of the knowledge of total command.
Volodya had gained that command while Dumarest had been under sedation and, with a gambler's instinct, Dumarest knew he held a losing hand.
"I think we should greet them," said Volodya as the ship reached the lock. "It would be a courteous gesture and I do not want them in Command. Major!" He looked expressionlessly at Dumarest as Medwin entered and snapped to attention. "Is the lock area sealed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then conduct us to meet our visitors." An illustration of power neatly done. Dumarest looked at the young man now wearing the uniform of Volodya's guards.
"So you're a major now. Congratulations on the promotion."
Medwin stared past him, his face twitching. "Don't feel bad about it." Dumarest adjusted the sling on his left arm. "We all have to look after ourselves and a smart man knows when it's time to change sides. Keep going as you are and, soon, you may even reach the top." He added, looking at Volodya, "That's when your troubles really begin."
"The door," snapped Volodya. "Hurry, Major-our visitors will be waiting."
They stood within the lock area, five of them, four wearing tough, practical clothing, the other dressed in ornate finery. He stepped forward as Volodya approached, lifting a hand heavy with rings, gems catching and reflecting the light in dancing shimmers as, gesturing, he smiled.
"This is a pleasure, sir. Captain Pendance at your service. And this is the gentleman we spoke of? Again my pleasure. I am certain we can all be friends."
Dumarest said, "What do you want?"
"Want?" Pendance glanced at Volodya then back at Dumarest. "Why, just to talk a little. To clear up certain misunderstandings To share a rare and costly wine. Bisdon! The wine for our hosts. Use the special glasses. Made of Surrentian crystal," he explained as one of his men produced a box and took out a bottle. "It touches the lips like a passionate kiss. I bore you?"
"No wine," said Dumarest. "Not for me." Then, speaking to Medwin and the other guards rather than the visitors, he said, "I assume you've come to discuss the matter of compensation and to make apologies for your wanton and unprovoked attack on this world and its people. How many died, Volodya? I'm sure you have the figure. Something like six dozen, wasn't it? And another score badly injured. Call it a hundred casualties. How much a head do you offer, Captain Pendance?"
The figure was exaggerated but the captain couldn't argue and for Volodya to protest would make him appear to be diminishing the importance of the losses.
Pendance said, "Offer? I fail to understand."
"Then start with an apology. At least pretend to regret your men attacked Zabul."
"You assume too much!" For a moment Pendance's facade dropped to reveal a little of the true man beneath. Not a decorated fop but someone who was cruel and vicious and a stranger to mercy. Then he was smiling again and the moment had passed. "I understand your attitude but, believe me, I am innocent. It was the other ship which launched the attack. It was their men you killed-they are dead, are they not? A pity. Under interrogation they would have cleared me of suspicion." Then, to Volodya, "But to get back to the matter at hand, sir. Shall we drink a little wine to seal our bargain?"
"No wine." Volodya looked at Dumarest. "I've no choice," he said. "Surely you can see that?"
"A man always has a choice."
"Not in this case. Captain?"
"The weakness of a man lies in love," said Pendance. He accepted a glass from his aide and lifted it to show the golden fluid it contained. The wine was held in the glass shaped like an upturned hand, which seemed to quiver as if with a life of its own. "Beautiful, is it not? The work of genius and the wine matches the glass. If you knew me better you would realize how high is my regard for you that I offered to share it. To your health, sir." Looking at Volodya he took a sip. Then, to Dumarest, "To your health."
"You spoke of love."
"Ah, yes, so I did." Pendance touched a scrap of fabric to his lips. "The love of things, Earl. The love of a woman. But, above all, the love of authority. For such a love a man will forget his pride. He will kill, steal, betray a friend. How much easier, then, it would be for him to rid himself of a rival."
"Me?"
"You are a man of discernment. But can you blame him? You, the victor of the recent unpleasantness, must surely pose a threat. The young love courage and acts of heroism performed under staggering difficulties. We know better but we have had time in which to learn. Time, the enemy of us all." He lifted his free hand as, again, he sipped at his wine. A gesture which seemed to command silence as it drew attention. "A rare moment," he said as he lowered the glass. "Good things should be savored to the full. Wine, a meal, a woman." He laughed with a strange cacophony. "Even a fight. At times I think combat alone can teach what lies within a man. The scent of blood, the touch of pain, the sight of death-and the weaklings run."
They change sides as Medwin had done, persuaded by Volodya's arguments, Thome's hatred of violence and, even, his own fears. The reality of war had changed more than one strutting braggart into a wincing coward.
How many of the Corps had followed his example?
Dumarest turned, fumbling with his sling but keeping his free hand in full view. The guards ringing the area contained faces he recognized but to appeal to them would be a waste of time. They would accept Volodya's authority. Obey his orders. Carry out his commands. Later, as he must have told them, he would lead them to the Event.
Later-a thousand years, perhaps. He would be in no hurry.
"The wine," said Pendance. "I really must insist you take some wine. Bisdon! Give him a glass-and make sure he holds it in his left hand."
Dumarest waited until the man came close then drew back the sling to show his empty fingers. They rested lax in the fabric and the man had to push the glass between them.
"That's better." Pendance smiled his satisfaction. "Who knows what a hidden hand could hold? I have no wish to harm you, Earl, but-"
"I know. Try anything and you'll burn my legs off at the knees. My arms at the elbows. I've heard it all before."