Jack of Swords

Chapter Sixteen

The line had been extended and was firm about his waist. The others were watching, aside from Embira who was still asleep, but Dumarest didn't turn to look at them. Marek held the line and a loop was attached to a pillar. Sulfan had been full of instructions, heard and ignored. Dumarest would operate in his own way.

Beneath his feet the ground held a gentle slope, checked by a glance at the colonnade to one side. A saucer like depression, not a hemisphere or the ground would have held a sharper gradient. A shallow bowl then, why hadn't he noticed it before?

Around him the mist began to thicken.

It held a trace of pungency, an odor not unpleasant, slightly reminiscent of the fur of a cat, the tang of spice. It filled his nostrils as he breathed and stung his eyes a little, a discomfort which passed as soon as noticed. He had expected to be blinded by the mist but always, as he walked, it seemed to open before him. An area of visibility a few yards in diameter. The ground was smoothly even, yielding like a firm sponge beneath his boots, which left no trace of their passage.

"Usan!" The mist flattened his call. "Usan!"

She could be anywhere and finding her would be a matter of luck. Already he had lost all sense of direction, only the line offering a guide.

"Usan!"

A woman, old, sick, dying, but with greater courage than most. Kalin had been like that. Kalin, who had gained what Usan most desired, a new and healthy body, living as a host in another's shape. Using the secret he carried, the one given to her by her husband before he died, passing it on in turn.

Kalin-could he ever forget her?

And then, incredibly, she was before him.

"Earl! My darling! My lover-I have waited so long!"

She came from the mist, tall, her hair a scarlet flame, eyes wide, lips parted, hands lifted to grasp his shoulders. Against his chest he could feel the pressure of her body, her sensual heat.

"Earl, my darling! My darling!"

He felt the touch of her lips, her hands, the swell of breasts and hips, the long, lovely curve of her thighs. All as he remembered-but Kalin was dead. Kalin, the real Kalin-not the beautiful shell she had worn.

"Come with me, Earl." She took his hand and led him to a room bright with sparkling color. A wide bed rested on a soft carpet, flowers filled vases of delicate crystal, perfume hung on the summer air. From beyond the open window came the sound of birds. "Rest, my darling, and talk to me. But first-" Her kiss was warm with promise, her flesh inviting to his touch. "Again, my darling. Again!"

Dumarest drew a long, shuddering breath. He was a man and within him was sensual yearning, little desires and hopes building into fantastic imagery, the biological drives inherent in any normal human. To love and be loved, to need and be needed, to have and to hold. And yet-

"Is something wrong, Earl?" The woman looked at him, her eyes filled with stars. "Earl! Don't you remember me?"

Too well and in too great a detail. The line of her chin, the tilt of her head, the little quirk at the corners of her lips. He studied them again, his eyes dropping to the gown she wore, short, cut low, shimmering emerald belted with a band of scarlet the color of her hair. All real as the room was real, the flowers. He picked one, the crushed bloom falling from his hand.

"Earl?"

"No," he said. "No."

And was again surrounded by mist.

It looked as before, a swirling, bluish gray fog, smoke in constant motion as if with a life of its own. The smoke of fires remembered from earlier days when as a boy he had crouched over smoldering embers cooking the game fallen to his sling. A lesson learned then never to be forgotten. Eat or die. Kill or starve. Survive or perish. Childhood had not been a happy time.

But Earth was his home. Earth!

The mist parted and he stood on a meadow. The softness of lush grass was beneath his feet and trees soared in ancient grace to one side. A moment and he was among them to walk among the boles of a natural cathedral. The trunks were rough to his touch, the leaf he thrust into his mouth succulent with juices, the little wad of masticated fiber falling to the soft, rich soil.

The trees yielded to a clearing slashed by a stream fringed with willows, the tinkle of water over stone a somnolent music in the warm, scented air. In the azure sky hung the pale orb of the Moon, a silver ghost blotched with familiar markings.

Home. He was home!

Not the one remembered from boyhood, the bleak area of ravaged stone and arid soil, the haunts of small and vicious beasts, of poverty and savage men, but the one he had always been convinced must lie over the horizon. Earth as it had been. Earth as it should be. Warm and gentle and filled with enchantment. A paradise.

The only one there ever was or ever could be. "You like it?" A man rose from where he had been sitting at the edge of the stream. His face was shadowed by the cowl of his brown, homespun robe, his hands thrust into its sleeves. His voice held the deep resonance of a bell. "You?"

"A friend. An ear to listen and a mouth to talk. Each man needs a friend, Earl. Someone to understand."

A need supplied as soon as felt. Dumarest said, "This is Earth? There can be no mistake?"

"This is Earth, Earl. How can you doubt? Your home, the only world on which you can feel whole. Can you understand why? Every cell of your body was fashioned and shaped by this place. It is the only planet on which you can feel wholly in tune, to which you can ever really belong. Look around you. Everything you see is a part of you; the grass, the trees, the creatures which walk and swim and fly. The water, the sunlight, the glow of the Moon. Only here can you ever find true contentment, Earl. Only on Earth can you ever find happiness."

And he was happy with a pleasure he had never before known or had even dreamed could exist. An intoxication of supreme bliss which caused him to stoop, to fill his hands with dirt, to lift them and let it rain before his eyes.

Earth!

His home now and for always.

The days would shorten and winter come with snow and crisp winds. There would be growth and harvest and the regular pattern of life to which he would respond. And there would be others, of that he was certain. Men and women to offer him a welcome. A wife, children, sons to teach and daughters to cherish. An end to loneliness.

"Earl!"

He frowned at the sound of his name. Who could be calling him?

"Earl. I need you. Please help me. Earl!" A woman's voice holding pain and terror, things which had no place in this ideal. It came again, louder, "For God's sake where are you? Answer me, Earl. I need you. Earl. Earl!"

A flash of movement. Derai? But the hair was gold, not silver, and the eyes were blind.

"Embira!"

She came to him from the mist, hands lifted, groping, her face dewed with sweat which carried the scent of her fear. A woman alone, blind, and afraid, walking into the unknown. The line firmly knotted around her waist trailed behind her. His own, Dumarest noticed, was gone. When had he freed himself from its restraint?

"Earl?" Her hands caught his own, the fingers closing with an iron grip. "Thank God I've found you! We waited so long and your line was cut and-Earl! Don't leave me!"

"I won't, Embira."

"It hurts," she said dully. "The pain, the hunger and fear. I'm so afraid. Take me back, Earl. Take me back."

Freeing his hands, he turned her, clamping his left arm around her shoulders, catching up the line with his right. He pulled, drawing in the slack and, when it was taut, jerked three times. An answering jerk and the line tightened, dragging at the girl's waist.

Marek was at the far end, Pacula and Sufan at his side. As Dumarest reached the edge of the colonnade and guided the girl into Pacula's waiting arms, Marek said, "So she found you. Thank God for that. I'd about given up hope. When we pulled in your line and found it cut-"

Sufan interrupted, his voice impatient. "What did you find, Earl? What is the treasure of Balhadorha?"

Dumarest answered in one word. "Death."

The food and water were getting low but Dumarest had no need of them and neither did the girl. The mist had taken care of them both, removing toxins, nourishing tissue, maintaining life in its own fashion. But while Dumarest had suffered no apparent ill effects the girl had collapsed. She lay on the floor of the far side of the chamber, her face drawn, stamped with signs of anguish despite the drugs which dulled her senses.

"She volunteered," said Marek quietly. "When you didn't return and we found your line cut she insisted on going after you. She said that she alone could find you."

"She was right."

"As events proved, Earl. Her talent, of course, it makes her something other than normal. But you were in the mist for a long time. Long enough for Sufan to make a circuit of the area."

"I found nothing." The man came forward, eyes darting. "And you, Earl?"

"I told you."

"Death-what answer is that? Did you find anything beneath the mist? Artifacts? Gems? Anything at all?"

"I found everything the legends promised. Wealth beyond imagination, pleasure unexpected, the answers to all questions, the solution to all problems. It's all there in the mist." Dumarest stared toward it, the swirling vapors edged by the openings set in the wall of the chamber. "The rumors didn't lie. Everything you could hope for is there, but at a price."

"Death," said Pacula, and shivered."Earl, what is it?"

"A symbiote."

"Alive?" Marek was incredulous. "After so long?"

"Time is different within the mist. An hour becomes a minute. Perhaps the colonnade has something to do with it, or the city. It isn't important. But that mist is alive. It takes something, a little blood, some bone marrow, the aura of emotion, perhaps, but feeding, it gives. Each thought and wish becomes real. The host is maintained in a world of illusion. One so apparently real that it is impossible to escape."

"But you escaped, Earl."

"With Embira's help, Pacula. If she hadn't come looking for me I would be there still."

"And you long to return." She looked at him with sudden understanding. "Earl-"

"I must try it," said Sufan. "I must experience it for myself. If I am tied to a line I should be safe."

"You would free yourself from the line," said Dumarest. "Nothing would stop you. If you were locked in steel it might be possible, but we have no metal straps and chain. If you go in you'll stay in."

"Maybe it's worth it." Marek looked at the mist, his eyes thoughtful. "What more can life offer than total satisfaction? If what you say is true, Earl, then here we have found happiness."

"And Embira?"

"What of her?"

"She can't share that happiness, Marek. Do you want to leave her here, alone, blind, terrified? She needs us. We must take her back to the ship. And we need you to help guide us through the Cloud."

"Need," said Marek bitterly. "What is another's need to me?" But he began collecting the packs, the weapons and supplies.

Pacula said, "Earl! What of Usan Labria?"

"We leave her."

"Usan? But-"

She was at the heart of the mist, lying on the softly firm ground, tended by the alien organism in return for what she could give. The very substance of her body, perhaps, disintegrating after death to culminate the bargain. But while alive, she was freed of pain and locked in a world of fantasy. Perhaps she ran light-footed over emerald sward or acted the queen in some luxurious palace. Around her would be attentive lovers and, in mirrors, she would relish the sight of her lovely young body. Happiness would be here-what more could life offer?

"We have no choice," said Dumarest. "We can't find her, and even if we could, to rescue her would be cruel. She'd be dead before we left the Cloud and without money what can she hope for? Now she is happy." He said again, harshly. "We leave her."

Leave! To turn his back on paradise!

He felt a touch on his arm and looked down to see Pacula's hand. Her eyes, inches below his own, were soft with concern.

"You don't want to go, do you, Earl? You're doing this for Embira. If you were alone would you stay? Would you go back into the mist?"

To Kalin and others he had known. To the planet of his birth and the incredible pleasure which had filled him, the content and utter satisfaction.

He said unsteadily, "If I went again into the mist I'd never return. Now, for God's sake, woman, let's be on our way!"

As she went to lift the girl to her feet Dumarest looked at the others. Both were ready. Sufan Noyoka stepped to the near edge of the colonnade, breathing deeply, taking a final look at the treasure he had spent his life to find.

Dumarest had expected him to argue, instead he accepted the departure, his face calm as he led the way from the chamber.

The women followed him, Pacula supporting the girl.

"So it's over, Earl." Marek shrugged and adjusted pack and gun. "For now, at least, but Sufan will be back. I'm certain of it. Nothing will keep him away and his friends will help him."

"Has he any left?"

"I use the word in its general sense, Earl. The Cydan is the friend of no man, but they will be interested in what he has to tell them. This place could be put to use and they will be happy to learn of it-if a cyber can ever be happy. They will stake him on a second expedition."

To investigate the mist. To take samples, to test, perhaps to breed fresh organisms. To create new centers and so gain another weapon in their war to dominate all Mankind. A bribe or a gift to those who were loyal. The old and sick and miserable given paradise. The rich and jaded offered a supreme thrill. Once established each center would dominate a world.

Dumarest said bleakly, "Will the Cydan listen to him?"

"Why not? They are old associates." Marek was bitter. "Didn't he tell you? That's where we first met, in the laboratory which gave me the thing to kill my wife and child. He was asking advice or something, but he was there."

As associate of his enemy-no wonder he had been followed to Chamelard and beyond. The vessel chasing them must have been lost in the Cloud, but there would be others, more cybers waiting to plot his movements, waiting where they would know he would be.

"Earl?"

"Nothing," said Dumarest. "Let's get after the others."