Jack of Swords

Chapter Seventeen

They walked through silent chambers, following the upward path of the spiral, reaching the one stained with a pool of dried blood. Marek had taken the lead and guided them through the brooding maze back to where a dead man lay on a bed of dust. Through the circular openings streamed the light of the yellow and crimson suns, warm swaths which touched the sunken cheeks and rictus of the smile.

Captain Cleeve Inchelan seemed amused.

"His raft," said Marek. "If we could only find his raft." If there was one at all. If the structure was undamaged and the power intact-a small hope after so long.

To Pacula, Dumarest said, "How is the girl?"

She sat with her back against a wall, her face dull, her hands lying listlessly in her lap. Not once had she spoken during the journey, walking like a person in a daze, one semi-stunned or drugged. But the sedatives she had been given would have lost their effect by now.

Touching her cheek, Dumarest said gently, "Embira?"

"She's in shock," said Pacula. "That damned mist!" The impact of the alien organism on her mind. Her talent strained by its aura, her ego withdrawing to a place of imagined safety. Looking at her Dumarest could appreciate what she had done. To walk into the glare of burning magnesium, eyes forced open, tormented yet searching for the flicker of a candle which had been himself. Conscious of the hunger of the thing, the danger.

"Embira?" His hand stroked her cheek. "Embira, talk to me."

"Earl?" Her voice was a whisper. "Earl?"

"You're getting through," said Pacula. "Try again." Her own hand gripped the girl's. "You're safe now, Embira. Safe."

"My head-it hurts. I can't-Earl!"

She clung to him like a child.

Sufan Noyoka said, "Can she guide us? Lead us through the chambers back to the door? Ask her, Earl. Ask her!"

"If she can't we're stuck," said Marek. "With luck I could find the door, but how to pass through it?" Looking at the dead man he added bleakly, "It might be that the captain will have company soon."

"Ask her!" snapped Sufan again. "Make her guide us!"

"She can't be forced." Dumarest rose, the girl's hands falling to lie again in her lap. "It will take time before she recovers, if she ever can within the city. We'll have to find another way out."

"How? The wall can't be climbed."

"From the outside, no," Dumarest admitted. "But from the inside? Well have to find out. Marek!"

He led the man to one of the openings and together they climbed to the lower edge. It was set high on the curve of the chamber and, thrusting his head and shoulders far out, Dumarest turned to study the slope above. If the material was the same as that of the outer wall they had no chance, but if it was like that of the smaller chambers there was hope.

"Pass me a gun, Marek, and hold me firm."

Dumarest leaned back, his legs held by the other man, lifting the gun and aware of the danger inherent in the recoil. Aiming he fired, a long blast which left a scarred gash, shallow but deep enough to offer a precarious hold. Lifting the muzzle he fired again, again, blasting a ladder in the smooth surface.

As he ducked back through the opening Marek said, "Can we climb it?"

"Yes. I'll go first and drop a rope. We can pull the women up behind us."

"And after?"

"We'll see."

The roof was long, rounded, curved like the back of a whale. It ended at one of the mounds, a curved rainbow of shimmering, refracted light, which swept up and to either side.

Marek said, "Earl, the gun?" He grunted when the roar of the weapon died, leaving the surface unscarred. "Well, we were lucky once. What now?"

"We climb." Dumarest narrowed his eyes as he studied the barrier. They were high against the curve, another dozen feet and they would be able to crawl, fifteen and they would be relatively safe. How to gain those fifteen feet?

"Pacula, lift your skirt up around your waist and tie it. Bare your legs and arms, those of the girl also. Marek, don't move!" Light flashed from the knife he lifted from his boot. With the edge he roughed the clothing the man wore, doing the same to Sufan, ending him himself. "It'll give extra traction," he explained, sheathing the blade. "Remember to lie flat and press hard against the surface. Use your flattened hands, a cheek, the insides of your legs."

Dumarest set the example, leaning to face the slope, straddling his legs as Marek climbed to his shoulders. Sufan followed, then Pacula. She inched forward, providing an anchor for Sufan, the two of them drawing up Marek to lie beside them.

"Embira." Dumarest fastened her to the rope and explained what had to be done. "You can manage?"

"If you're with me, Earl."

"I'll be with you." He guided her to the slope. "Up now."

He lifted her, his hands firm around her waist moving to her thighs, her knees. His palms made cups to support her feet, the extension of his arms holding her high. With the others she would lie flat, providing an anchor to take his weight.

A procedure repeated as, like flies, they crawled over the mounds to the wall.

It rose ten feet against the sky, featureless, a blank expanse which ran to either side on its long circle about the city. Without hope Dumarest blasted it with a hail of bullets, the roar of the gun muted in the brooding stillness of the air.

"Now what?" Marek shook his head. "We could reach the summit but what will it gain us? There's a hundred-foot drop the other side."

"We have a rope."

"True, but how to hold it? There's nothing to tie it to, Earl. One could let down the others but how can he escape?"

Dumarest said, "Empty your packs. Drop the canteens and guns, all the weight you can. Now, you first, Pacula. Free the rope when you land."

"Embira?"

"Will follow, but she will need you to guide her. Now hurry, woman! Move!"

Quick action to save the need of thought, the realization of what would happen if she should fall. With the rope firmly knotted Dumarest took the slack, a loop around his waist, watching as Pacula climbed on Marek's shoulders. Turning to look at him she said, "Earl! What-"

She cried out as she slipped on the yielding surface, the rope streaming through Dumarest's hands, checking as he strained against it, slipping smoothly and easily through his hands. It slowed as he tightened his grip to lower the woman gently through the last stage of descent.

A moment, then a jerk and Dumarest drew back the rope.

"Embira!"

Sufan Noyoka followed leaving Marek and Dumarest alone.

"Your turn. Earl."

"Yours." Dumarest kicked at the empty packs. "Take those with you. Fill them with dirt and stone, anything which has weight. Tie them to the rope."

"I'm lighter than you are, Earl."

"Which is why you're going first. You may not be able to take my weight."

"The Knave of Swords," murmured Marek. "I was a fool. Not the Knave but the Lord. Without you-" He broke off then said flatly. "Earl, you realize you're trusting me with your life?"

There had been no choice-only he possessed the bulk to take the strain of the rope, the knowledge of what to do. Alone Dumarest checked the weight of the discarded equipment. The guns, the ammunition, the canteens, now almost empty, the food and other supplies. It wasn't enough. Without friction it could never hold his weight, and unless he had enough to anchor the rope, death was inevitable.

Death or the mist. A return to the heart of the city if he could make it. Injury and the torment of thirst if he could not.

Had the captain died trying vainly to reach paradise?

A tug and he hauled up the rope. It held only half the packs, each heavy with dirt. A second haul and he had enough. Dumarest lashed the packs, the guns and other things together, fastened them to the end of the rope, wrapped more around his waist. The loose end he threw over the wall, and without hesitation, followed it.

Timus Omilcar came running as Dumarest landed. The engineer was panting, sweat dewing his face. His voice boomed through the air as he came to a halt before the little group standing before the wall.

"You're back! Thank God for that! I was about to give up hope when I heard the gunfire. What happened? Where is the treasure?"

"There is no treasure," said Marek. "None we could carry and not what you hoped for."

"None? Nothing at all?" Timus searched them with his eyes. "Where's Usan?"

"We left her. We had no choice." Pacula added bleakly, "But she, at least, got what she came to find. The only one of us who did."

"No," said Dumarest. "Not the only one. You've been lucky, too."

"Lucky? How?"

"You came for money in order to search for your daughter. Haven't you realized yet that she stands at your side?"

"Culpea? No! Where-" She turned to stare at the girl. "Embira? Impossible!"

"Is it?" Dumarest stepped closer. Sufan Noyoka, he noticed, had backed a little, one hand fumbling at his wrist. "Think about it. Who was close when you lost her? You told me that Sufan Noyoka was in the area. Did you search his raft?"

"No. Of course not. He didn't-he wouldn't-Earl, she's too old!"

"Slow-time," he said. "Under it she would have aged a month in a day. Look at her arms. The elbows are scarred with inserts used for intravenous feeding. And remember how you felt when you first saw her, how you were drawn to her." And then, as still she stared her disbelief, "Look in a mirror, woman! Study her bones! You could have been sisters, you said, but the relationship is closer than that. She is your daughter."

"This is stupidity!" Sufan Noyoka's voice was brittle with anger. "Why are you talking like this, Earl? What is in your mind? What are you trying to do?"

"You deny it?"

"Certainly I deny it. Don't listen to him, Pacula. You have known me for years. Are you going to take the word of an adventurer against that of an old friend?"

She said uncertainly, "I don't know. I-how can I be sure?"

"You can be sure," said Dumarest. "There are tests which will prove it. We can do them in the ship. Sufan knows how to conduct them. He has biological knowledge and can settle the matter one way or the other."

"You're mad! Insane! Why should you think I have such skill?"

"Didn't the Cyclan teach you? Isn't that why you attended their laboratory? Why else did you visit them? Don't trouble to deny it, Marek saw you. You met there. Well?"

"I wanted advice. It had to do with Balhadorha. Earl, I warn you. Keep silent or-"

"You'll kill me as you did Jarv Nonach?" Dumarest shrugged. "You had to kill him, of course. He intended to leave and you couldn't allow that. Even less could you allow him the chance of being able to return. He could have charted a course and robbed you of your discovery and so he had to die. It was simple, a poison in his pomander, and how could you be blamed? And now that you know what lies in the city how many others do you intend to kill? Pacula? She isn't necessary. Marek? Perhaps, after he has helped to guide you. The engineer later-they come cheap. The only one you really need is Embira." Pausing, Dumarest added bitterly, "The girl you stole and had changed in the laboratories of the Schell-Peng. Blinded and trained, taught under slow-time, artificially aged, robbed of her childhood-and you call yourself an old friend!"

"You did that!" Pacula's face was that of a savage beast. "Sufan, you filth!"

"He's lying! Don't you understand? He's lying! Why should I do a thing like that?"

For answer Dumarest gestured at the city.

"For this. The dream of a lifetime, you said, and I believe you. As I believe those who called you mad. A madness which stopped at nothing. You needed the girl because of her genetic trait, one inherited from her father. He could see in the dark, you said, Pacula, but what more? Would you have known? Would he? But Sufan guessed and the Cyclan confirmed it. They told him what must be done if he hoped to fashion her into an instrument with which to navigate the Hichen Cloud. Eight years ago. Marek, when did you meet? Eight years ago? Nine?"

"About nine, Earl. Yes."

"And the land you went to examine, Sufan's land. A trap into which you fell, Pacula. He had the child drugged and hidden in his raft. Later he took her to Chamelard. If you doubt me the tests will decide."

Sufan Noyoka said, "That will be enough." His hand rose from his sleeve, metal glinting in the light. A laser, small but powerful enough to burn and kill. "A mistake, Earl. I was careless. I should have left you behind on Chamelard."

After he had won possession of the girl-but he could have had another reason and Dumarest suspected that he had. One which had determined his choice of action.

Pacula said, "Sufan, are you saying-"

"But of course, my dear. Earl is shrewd and has guessed the truth, but why be so upset? What is a single child worth against what we have found? And she is here, handicapped a little, perhaps, but with a unique talent."

He stepped back as she lunged toward him, hands extended, fingers reaching for his eyes. The laser blurred as he lashed out with its weight, the impact of metal against her temple loud in the heavy air. It lifted as she fell to lie twitching on the dirt.

"Move, Earl, and I fire. Not to kill, naturally, but you could do little with crippled legs. In fact it would be a sensible precaution. The knees, I think, and the elbows." The laser leveled in his hand.

Marek said, "No! Sufan, you can't!"

"You hope to stop me?" The weapon swung in Sufan's hand. "I need you, Marek, but can make do without you. You too, Timus. Stand back the pair of you. And think of the treasure-what is one man's life worth against what the city contains? I promised you wealth, and you shall have it, more than you can imagine. The Cyclan can be generous when it suits their aims. And now-no!"

Too late he realized his mistake, the lapse of attention which was all Dumarest needed. His hand dropped to his boot, lifted with the knife, steel hurtling as Sufan snouted, the blade turning as he fired, one shot which seared the tunic at Dumarest's shoulder.

Then he was down, blood streaming from his, eye, staining his face, the dirt, the hilt of the knife buried in the socket and penetrating the brain.

"Earl!"

"I'm all right." Dumarest felt his shoulder, his fingers red when he lifted them from the shallow wound. "See to Pacula."

She rose as Marek reached her, her temple marred by an ugly bruise, her hands reaching toward the girl.

"Culpea! My child!"

"Shell be all right," said Marek. "We'll see to that, Pacula. If you will let me?"

The way of life, need meeting need, each recognizing the emptiness of the other, each ready to fill it, both to take care of the girl.

With time she would be herself again and more. New eyes could be grown from cell tissue to replace those deliberately blinded by the Schell-Peng in order to concentrate her mind on her talent.

"Earl?" Timus Omilcar looked at the dead man, the gleaming bulk of the city. "I suppose there's nothing more we can do here?"

"Nothing. Get back to the ship now. We leave as soon as the girl has rested."

Up and back through the Cloud, the ship sold and the money divided. Timus to go his own way, the others to return to Teralde, perhaps, the security of land and family, himself to move on.

Stooping, Dumarest jerked free his knife. Sufan Noyoka was dead and with him had died the immediate danger of the Cyclan. Had he known the value of the stranger he had carried? Dumarest thought it possible, but he could never have realized his true worth. More even than the fabled treasures of Balhadorha.

He looked for the last time at the city. It lay like a gem in the cupped palm of the hills, a cathedral or a tomb? Had those who built it lived to worship the mist? Had they, finally, succumbed to its attraction? Or had it been nothing more than an elaborate prison? A housing for paradise?

Dumarest turned and headed toward the ship. The city held nothing but illusion, and Earth, the real Earth, had yet to be found.