Parect said harshly, "Enough! Your teaching would ruin the structure of this world. Every serf would think himself equal to his master. Your creed holds the seed of rebellion."
"Not so, brother, it-"
"Do you dare to argue with me?" Anger suffused the lined face, sent the thin voice soaring high, shrill. "Do you?"
Dumarest felt Zenya's fingers dig into his arm, heard her whisper, breathless, afraid. "Dear God, don't let it happen again. Don't let him get into one of his rages!"
He realized the table had fallen silent, that each face bore the stamp of trepidation, realized too what should have been apparent before. Aihult Chan Parect was insane.
Chapter Three
The room was a cell. Despite the comfort, the softness of the couch, the tapestries, the items of price set on low tables, the sea-scented air, it was as much a cell as the citadel was a prison. A trap into which he had walked willingly, lured by a promise. And yet, Dumarest knew, he'd had no choice. The Aihult owned the field; guards would have been waiting to take him by force if necessary; following the girl had given him only the pretense of freedom.
Restlessly he paced the room. The window was an unbroken pane of thick crystal, unbarred but proof against the impact of missiles. Beyond it, as far as he could determine, the wall fell sheer to an inner courtyard. The roof, perhaps, might house a raft, but if so, it would be guarded. As everything in the citadel was guarded. As even this room to which he had been led after the meal must be watched by the order of Aihult Chan Parect.
He heard the click of a latch and stood, not turning, watching the reflection as Lisa Conenda entered the room and approached him, feet silent on the carpeted floor.
"You are dreaming, Earl," she said in her deep, almost mannish voice. "Of what, I wonder? The stars? The empty spaces between them? A woman you once had?"
She still wore the ebony gown, the elfin lines of her face accentuated with skillfully applied cosmetics. Her perfume was of musk and incense, heady, pungent. The fingers which she rested on his arm were long, the nails shaped into needle points.
"I understand that you are interested in old legends," she continued softly. "And there is one which you must surely know. A creature which spins a web and offers enticing invitations. It would be amusing, would it not, if the guest so invited should turn the tables and, instead of providing the meal, feasted instead?"
He said quietly, "Meaning what, my lady?"
"A thought, Earl, little more. Shall we pursue it?" The long fingers closed on his arm, her voice a bare whisper in his ear. "The house of Aihult is decadent. You have seen Zenya, Zavor, the others. Soon there will be a vacuum of power in which a strong, ruthless, and imaginative man could do well. All he would need would be a little help- some guidance and the support of one who has a legitimate claim to the chair that will soon be empty." The fingers tightened even more. "Are you ambitious, Earl?"
He said nothing, looking through the window. Others faced him from across the courtyard, some bright with illumination, shadows moving, blurred, oddly shaped by perspective and translucent hangings. Above, the stars shone bright against the sky, colorful motes winking against skeins and curtains of shimmering luminescence. Hot suns ringed with circling worlds.
"Earth," she said, her voice ironic. "Is that the sum total of your ambition, Earl? To find a dream world, a myth? Do you look at the stars and wonder if it could circle that one… or that one? So many stars, Earl. So many worlds. And even if you found it, what then?"
A question he would face when it came; for now, the search was enough. Turning, he faced her, catching her expression, a little surprised at what he saw. Not the mockery he had anticipated, but something else. Yearning, perhaps, bitterness.
"Do you think that others have never dreamed, Earl? As a child I longed to be adult so that I, too, could give orders and have them obeyed. I had a weakness for a fruit compote, chilled, iced, laced with cream. It was a special treat, and I swore that, when I grew big, I would eat it every day. Well, I am big now, and can get as much of the stuff as I want. And now, of course, I don't want it."
The compote and other things, he thought. Men, perhaps, power, fine gowns, with rich fabrics. Childish longings which turned to dust when attained. And now more ambitions, not childish this time, and far less innocuous. A game in which the loser would pay with life itself.
A game?
He looked into her eyes, seeing them change, veiled to hide innermost thoughts. A spoiled, decadent woman seeking amusement at the expense of a stranger? It was possible, the tempting bait dangled, rewards offered, plans made, and then, without warning, the abrupt end. And Chan Parect would not be kind to rebels.
But it was a game which two could play.
He said, "Tell me more, my lady. What would I hope to gain if…"
Her arms lifted, to close around his neck. The softness of her body pressed tight against his chest, warm flesh, succulent, yielding. The touch of her cheek against his own was scented velvet, as, straining upward, she whispered in his ear.
"Be careful, my darling. In this place, walls have ears. You want to know what you could gain? Myself and what I could bring. A position second only to my own. A seat at my side in Council, estates to rule, men to command. Under our guidance, the serpent would swallow all. The Zham, Elbe, Leruk-all would be ours, their men our serfs, their women our slaves. And our son, Earl. The child of our bodies. To him we would give an entire world as his heritage."
He sensed her tension, too intense to be contrived, and remembered her hands, the nails now resting lightly against the back of his neck. Remembered too the family to which she belonged, the contamination that was apparent and that the old man had betrayed.
Carefully he said, "My lady, you offer too much."
"There is no limit to the aspirations of an ambitious man."
"Aspirations, perhaps, but execution? How will all this be achieved?"
He felt her relax, confident that he had been won. Casually he lifted his hands, gripped her own, and lowered them to her side. With his cheek still pressed to her own he whispered, "We must talk again. In a safe place without attendants. If you could obtain the use of a raft… ?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Oh, yes. In the woods, where there will be none to spy. Earl, my darling, how long have I waited for a man like you. A real man who will give me the strength I need."
"The raft," he said again. "When?"
"Soon. I promise. Soon."
He stepped back a little, releasing her hands, knowing he had done all that was possible for the moment. If she would provide the raft, it could go to the field as easily as anywhere else, and with luck, a ship might be waiting, escape possible before guards could prevent it A thin chance, but, he thought grimly, better than none.
Wine stood on a table. As she poured and returned with filled glasses, he said casually, "My lady, do you know why I am being kept here?"
"As a guest, Earl, what else?" Smiling, she handed him a goblet. "And now let us drink to us, to the future, and to a happy life."
Raising the glass, he touched his lips to the wine, making a pretense of drinking. Beyond the woman stood the window, and he looked at it, seeing a pane on the opposite side of the courtyard suddenly become bright with a ruby glow. Against it a shadow moved, a tall, cowled figure turning, vanishing as draperies were pulled.
Frowning, he said, "Is the monk also a guest?"
"Perhaps."
"Don't you know?"
"Does it matter?" She was uninterested. "Who can tell what motivates the mind of Chan Parect? Maybe he intends to amuse himself further with the man. And he was amusing, was he not? How can anyone spend their lives dedicated to the service of others? To live unwillingly in such poverty? And those he claims to help, what do they really think of him? Do they laugh behind his back? I think they must. The insane are always objects of mirth."
"Of pity, my lady."
"Pity?" She frowned. "That is a form of weakness, Earl. I do not think you are weak."
"There is strength in compassion."
"So I have been told." She shrugged, setting down her goblet. "As an intellectual exercise, the concept is intriguing, but in the real world, it can be fatal. A fact of which you must be aware. Only a fool spares the life of an enemy."
"True," he admitted, "but first define what you mean by an enemy."
"If they are not with us, they are against us."
"Which must include a lot of people," he said dryly. "Does Aihult Chan Parect operate on that principle?"
"Naturally, Earl. What else?"