Jack of Swords

Chapter Thirteen

They stood in a vast chamber, the curved roof high above suffused with an opalescent sheen of light; colored gleams which filled the place with broken rainbows. The floor was smooth, polished, made of some adamantine material, seamless and traced with a pattern of sinuous lines. The curved wall was pierced with a rounded opening several times the height of a man.

"The entrance hall." Marek's voice was clear, the place devoid of echoes as it was of shadows. "The area beyond the door, and we're in it."

But not all. Dumarest said, "Where's Timus?"

"He was behind me." Sufan Noyoka looked up, around, down toward the floor. "I felt his hand slip from my shoulder. I don't know just when."

Before he had reached the wall, his own eyes and disbelief maintaining the barrier. In Dumarest's arms Usan Labria stirred, muttering, still fogged with sleep-inducing drugs. Her eyes cleared as he held a vial beneath her nostrils, crushing the ampule and releasing chemical vapors to clear her blood.

"Earl?"

"It's all right," he soothed. "We're in the city."

"The city!" She freed herself from his support and stood, looking around. "Yes," she whispered. "We must be. You kept your promise, Earl. My thanks for that. But how?"

"Embira guided us."

"Blind, she couldn't see the wall," explained Marek. "But she sensed the presence of a force field of some kind. A means to open the matter of the wall, perhaps, while maintaining the illusion it was solid. A door built on a unique pattern. One which-" He broke off, shrugging. "Does it matter? We're inside, that's all that counts."

"Inside!" She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, summoning the dregs of her energy. Impatiently she brushed aside Pacula's hand. "Don't coddle me, girl, I'll be all right. Stay with Embira, she'll need a guide." She frowned, aware of the absence of the engineer. "Timus?"

"He isn't with us," said Sufan. "He must still be outside, but it is of no importance. Alone he can't handle the Mayna. All he can do is wait."

Wait as the colored suns traced their path across the sky, alone in the brooding silence, faced with the blank enigma of the city. How long would he remain patient? Dumarest lacked Sufan's conviction that the engineer was helpless. A clever man could rig remote controls and, desperate, Timus might try to navigate the Cloud on his own. A gamble which he couldn't win, but one he would try given time enough.

Stepping to the wall, Dumarest rested his hand on the surface. It felt as before, neither hot nor cold, the material solid against his pressure.

"Embira, has anything changed?"

"The aura has gone, Earl." She faced him as he stood against the wall. "I can krang another, more distant."

The bulk of the vessel containing the residual energies of the field. While she could discern it they had a point of directional reference-but until the door opened again they were trapped unless they could find another way to leave the city.

Sufan shrugged when Dumarest mentioned it.

"We'll find a way, Earl. Now let us see what is to be found."

"But with caution," warned Marek. "The door could have given an alarm and the city might still contain some form of life. It would be as well to move carefully."

A conclusion Dumarest had already reached. All, aside from Embira and the old woman, carried packs, canteens, and were armed. He checked the gun hanging on its strap from his shoulder.

"If we see anything hold your fire. If we are attacked wait until I shoot. Marek, you take the rear, Sufan, you stay with the women."

"I will-"

"Do as he says, Sufan," snapped Usan. "One of us at least must keep a clear head. We've come too far to be beaten now and an error could cost us all our lives." She sucked in her breath and fumbled at her locket, slipping a pill between her lips. "But hurry, Earl. Hurry!"

They moved toward the opening, feeling like ants in a cathedral, stunned by the vastness of the chamber. Another opened beyond, smaller, set with an opening through which smooth ramps led up and down. Their roofs were of some lustrous substance which threw a nacreous glow. The air was thick, slightly acrid. Dumarest could see no trace of dust.

"An entrance hall," mused Marek. "Ramps which must lead to other chambers. Assuming this place held life similar to ours there will be living accommodation and recreational areas."

"Up or down?"

"Up, Earl. Below must lie machines and storerooms, cess pits, perhaps, a means of sewage disposal. Already the pattern begins to take form. Give me time and I will draw a map of the city."

"We want the treasure," said Usan Labria. "Just the treasure."

"Then we must head toward the central spire." Marek stepped toward one of the openings. "This one, Earl."

A guess, but it was as good as any, and Dumarest led the way toward it. The ramp rose steeply after a hundred feet then leveled as it broke into another chamber also set with openings. A series of them so that, within minutes, they passed through a maze of connecting rooms all appearing exactly alike.

Pacula said uncertainly, "We could become lost. How can we be sure of finding the way back?"

"We're not lost." Marek was confident. "Always we take the central opening and climb upward."

"This reminds me of something." Usan looked around, frowning. "A bee hive? No. An ant hill? An ant hill! Earl! This place is like an ant hill."

Short passages and endless chambers all alike, none with distinctive characteristics. A prison was like that, a place built for a strictly utilitarian function without concession to artistry. The mere fact of living in such a place would mold the residents into a faceless whole, all individuality repressed by the endless monotony of the surroundings. Men, held in such an environment, would become abnormal.

Had the city been built by men?

There was no way of telling. A single chair would have given a clue as to shape and form, a table, a scrap of decoration, but the chambers were devoid of all furnishings, the openings providing the only break in the seamless construction, the sole decoration that of the sinuous lines.

They ran thin and black against the pale gray of the floor, following no apparent order, twisting to bunch into knots, opening to splayed fans.

Directional signs? A means to tell the inhabitants exactly where they were in the city?

"It's possible, Earl," admitted Marek when Dumarest spoke of it. "We have street signs and numbers, insects have scent-trails; whoever built this place could have had their own system. But to break the cipher would take too long. And it isn't necessary. All we have to do is to reach the spire."

And the treasure if treasure was to be found. But five hours later they were still no closer to where it might be.

"We're lost!" Sufan Noyoka glared his impatience. "So much for your skill, Marek. Give me time, you said, and you would produce a map of the city. Well?"

"A delay." Marek spread his hands, smiling, but his tone was sharp. "Do you expect a miracle? Those who built this place were clever. The chambers, the passages, all follow a mathematical precision designed to confuse. There are subtle turns and windings."

Dumarest said, "How far are we from the gate?"

"Who can tell? Without any point of orientation-"

"You don't know." Dumarest turned to Embira. "Can you krang the ship?"

"It lies in that direction." Her lifted hand pointed to an opening to the right of the one they had used.

"And the other?" Dumarest caught her shoulders and gently turned her to face in the opposite direction. "Can you see-krang anything?"

"Yess." She shivered, suddenly afraid. "Earl, I don't like it. It's strange, and somehow, menacing. Like some of the auras in the Cloud."

"A force field, Embira? An entity?"

"I'm not sure. Earl! Hold me!"

"Stop tormenting her!" said Pacula. "You know she is upset. We should have left her behind in the ship."

"We had no choice," said Dumarest. "Without her we would never have passed through the wall. And, without her to help us, we may never be able to leave the city."

"Earl?"

"Think about it," he snapped. "We are lost. The chambers form a maze and Marek admits he can't find his way back despite what he said at first. Only Embira can guide us."

"To the ship?"

"That and more." Gently he said to the girl, "Now try, Embira. Tell us in which way to go. Point with your hand and aim at the aura you see ahead."

"Earl! It hurts! I-"

"Try, girl! Try!"

Stare into the glow of a searchlight, the glare of a sun- how could he tell what it was like? But he had to use familiar analogies in order to even begin to understand her attribute.

"Earl! Don't! You can't hurt her like this!"

"Shut up, Pacula!" snapped Usan, and caught at her arm as she lunged forward. "Don't interfere! Let Earl handle things."

He said soothingly, "Just point, Embira. Just show us the way. Can you stop looking-kranging, if you want?"

To drop a mental shutter as a man would close an eye against too bright a light. An ability she must have if not to be driven insane by the pressure of surrounding auras.

"Yes, Earl. I have to concentrate. I-sometimes-there!" Her hand lifted, aimed at a point ahead and down. "There!"

"Is it close?"

"Closer than it was, Earl."

So Marek had not been a total failure. Dumarest stepped to the opening closet to where the girl had pointed. Beyond lay another chamber, more openings, one with a ramp leading downward. Again a featureless room, more openings, another extension of the maze.

He pressed on until he felt confused. "Embira?"

"There." More calmly now she lifted her hand. "That way, Earl."

They had diverged from the path. Dumarest found it again, striking out and down, finally coming to a halt before a blank wall. Openings ran to either side, one ramp leading up, the other down. A hundred feet down the slope Embira paused.

"We're going the wrong way, Earl. The aura lies behind us."

"The passage could turn." Sufan Noyoka was impatient.

"There could be another junction lower down. Hurry, let us find it."

"We're running like rats in a sewer," said Usan irritably. "Slow down, Sufan. Earl?"

"We'll go back."

"And waste more time?" Sufan bared his teeth. "The girl can guide us once we reach another chamber."

"She is guiding us. We'll go back."

Facing the blank wall, Dumarest said, "Point again, Embira. Marek, mark the direction of her hand. Good. I'm going to try something." He lifted the gun to his shoulder, aimed at where the girl had pointed. "Maybe these walls can be penetrated. The rest of you had better leave the chamber in case of ricochets. Pacula, warn the girl what I am about to do."

Marek said, "Two gun could be better than one, Earl."

Twice the fire-power, but twice the risk from wildly ricocheting bullets.

Dumarest said, "I'm protected, you're not. Go with the others."

As he left Dumarest opened fire.

The gun kicked against his shoulder as a stream of heavy slugs blasted from the muzzle to slam against the wall. Some ricocheted to whine like angry wasps through the chamber, one catching his back to rip his tunic, bruising the flesh, only the metal mesh buried in the plastic saving him from an ugly wound. Beneath the storm of metal the wall crumbled to show a small, jagged opening. Again Dumarest fired, swinging the barrel in a rough circle. A kick and shattered fragments rained to lie in a heap on the floor.

"Did it work?" Marek came running as the gun fell silent. He glanced at the opening. "Earl, you did it! I thought-"

"The wall would be as adamantine as the one surrounding the city?"

"Yes. A natural assumption. How did you know it would yield?"

"I didn't, but it was worth the chance." Dumarest fitted a fresh magazine to the gun. "Let's see what lies beyond."

They stared at a long, oval chamber, the roof softly glowing, the walls pierced with circular openings bright with red and yellow sunlight. The floor was thick with a heavy layer of dust, and on it lay the body of a man.

He rested as if asleep, one arm extended, the fingers curved. Only one cheek was visible, the face sunken, wreathed with a short beard. The eyes were open, glazed, the lips parted to show blunt and yellowed teeth. He wore a uniform of dull plastic, touches of green bright against the dark maroon, the colors barely visible through a coating of dust.

"A man," said Usan Labria. "And dead-but for how long?"

"Long enough." Marek stooped and brushed away the dust.. More had drifted to form a low ridge around the body. "Centuries, perhaps. He's mummified."

"How did he die?" Pacula stepped close to the girl and threw an arm protectively around her shoulders. "Are there signs of wounding?"

"Does he carry papers?" Sufan Noyoka frowned as he stared at the corpse. "Look, man," he snapped as Marek hesitated. "He's dead. He can't hurt you."

"Maybe not." Marek was acid. "But what killed him could. Disease, perhaps?"

"Not disease," said Dumarest. "My guess is he died of starvation or thirst." Turning the body over he searched the pockets. "Captain Cleeve Inchelan," he read. "His ship the Elgret. The date-" He looked up at the ring of attentive faces. "Three hundred years ago."

"And his crew?" Usan looked from one to the other. "What happened to his crew? His ship? We saw no ship."

"Lost in the Cloud, maybe," said Marek. "Or maybe they managed to get back and spread rumors. The treasure planet," he added bitterly. "The Ghost World. Well, there is one ghost at least, if such things exist. That of Captain Inchelan."

A man who could also have followed a dream, searching for a fabled world and the treasure it was reputed to hold. Or had he given birth to the legend? His crew making a safe landing there to spread rumor and wild imaginings?

Dumarest said, "How did he get into the city? How did he get here?"

"A raft?" Marek was quick to catch the implication. "Of course, Earl! How else? But why here?" His eyes searched the dust, lifted to one of the circular openings. "They must give to the open air," he said. "How else the dust? Maybe the raft is outside. If it is we could use it."

"After three centuries?" Usan Labria shook her head. "No."

"Why not? From the look of the dust there is little climatic variation here. The raft could be unharmed. If we could find it-Earl!"

Together they reached the circular window. Dumarest jumped, caught the lower edge, hung while Marek swarmed up his body, heaved himself upward in turn. Beyond lay a level area, the surface of the dust unbroken.

"The other side, perhaps?" Marek dropped and crossed the oval chamber. Again they looked through an opening. "Nothing. He didn't leave it here, Earl."

Dumarest said, "He needn't have come alone. There could have been others."

"Who left him to starve?"

"Why not-if they had found treasure."

"Earl, you are a man with little trust in human nature, or perhaps one with too much knowledge of the power of greed. Is that what you think happened?"

"There is another possibility," said Dumarest. "He could have got lost. The raft could be somewhere in the city. He could have been looking for it and died before he found it." He added grimly, "As we could die. Our food and water is limited."

"You're worried about us being able to leave the city," said Marek. "You're concerned about the women. You surprise me, Earl. I would not have thought you afflicted with such hampering considerations. What will happen if we can't escape? Will you give them our rations? If that is your intention you could be due for a struggle. Sufan will let nothing stand in his way. Their lives mean nothing to him against the treasure."

"And you?"

"Earl, I will be honest. I came to find the treasure."

"And we may find it," said Dumarest. "But first we rest and eat."

The blue sun had risen when again they moved, a violet light blending with that of dull ruby, streamers of brilliance shrouding the dead man and reflecting from his staring eyes. His hand, extended after them, seemed to hold a silent plea, an appeal for help they could not give. The aid they carried had come centuries too late, the food and water which could have saved his life.

"That poor man," said Pacula somberly as they walked toward the end of the oval chamber. "Dying like that, alone on an alien world."

"Left by his crew." Usan paused, coughing, flecks of red staining her lips. "Damn this dust. Earl, will it be long now?"

"Not long. We must be close to the central spire."

"And after? When we've found the treasure?" She coughed again, then said, "I'm not a fool. We're in the city but how do we get out? The girl can guide us back to the wall but how do we get through it?"

"We'll get through it," said Dumarest. "The same way we came in."

"By waiting at the right place for the right time. And when will that be? A week? A month? I-"

"You worry too much," he said curtly. "Just think about staying on your feet. Can you manage?"

"I'll manage," she said. "I'm going to find that treasure even if I have to crawl. What will it be, Earl? Gems? Ingots of precious metals? Some new device? A fortune anyway. We'll all make a fortune and I'll-take care of the girl, Earl. Without Embira we're lost. Take damned good care of her."

"I will."

"Yes," she said, and then flatly, "are you in love with her?" Her smile was a grimace as he made no answer. "She's in love with you, Earl. The poor, blind bitch, I feel sorry for her and yet-" She broke off, looking at her hands. "And yet," she whispered, "I'd give my soul to have her body."