Nectar of Heaven

Chapter Ten

It was a place filled with mirrors, the bedroom itself covered one floor, walls and ceiling with reflective panes, the wide bed reproduced endlessly in every direction. A chamber for exhibitionists and voyeurs. For lovers who needed to see and be seen; adding a new dimension of visual stimulus to an ancient art.

Lying on the bed, Dumarest looked at himself in the ceiling, the woman lying naked at his side. Her hair covered the pillow with a golden sheen, matched by the small glints from the soft down on her limbs and body. Her skin held the rich glow of studied care, the muscles beneath the fat firm with massage and exercise. A creature feline in her grace who now stretched and turned to look at him with warm, satiated eyes.

"Earl?"

"You are beautiful," he said. "Beautiful."

She almost purred. "You really think so?"

"Can there be any doubt?" He turned to meet her eyes, to smile into them, to touch gently the firm contours of her body. "You do me more than honor, my lady."

"You're strange," she said as again he looked at the mirrored ceiling. "Such odd terms of address. Have you known many highborn women? Loved them, even? Held them as you held me? Used them-Earl!"

Passion flowered, to turn into demanding flame, to fill the mirrors with writhing images. A time which was beyond measurement, terminating in a period of relative calm.

"A man," she whispered. "My darling, you are such a man." Her fingers traced the scars on his torso, lingered on the wound above his ear, almost healed now with the aid of chemical magic, dropped again to the pattern on his chest. A woman entranced by the proximity of passion and pain, of death and desire. "My man," she said softly. "All mine and such a wonderful asset. One I have been waiting for. A man I can love."

For the moment, the hour, the day. For as long as the whim would last-but the mirrors had told their story; Dumarest knew she could love none other than herself. Even in the heights of their passion she had sought the mirrors of his eyes.

Now, reaching, she touched a button and as soft melody stirred the air with the throbbing susurration of muted drums she said, "You have nothing to worry about, Earl. I want you to know that. As long as you are mine I will protect you."

He knew she wasn't talking about a shared passion.

"Yours, my lady?"

"Still the caution, Earl?" She smiled then became serious. "Didn't Tobol explain? To safeguard you from certain others you had to be registered as a resident of the sector. That binds you to the holding. I own the sector-you see?"

Facts he knew but it was as well to expose the threat if one existed.

"So you own me."

"Not as a slave, Earl," she said quickly. "Never that. But I am responsible for you as you are to me. A matter of resident fee and other charges and in return you gain my protection and certain amenities-just details, Earl. Don't let them concern you."

"But you can sell me?"

"Sell the holding," she corrected. "I can do that, yes, and you will, naturally, go with it. All residents do. A formality," she added. "A change of holder means almost nothing."

To others, maybe, but they lacked his value. In the overhead mirror Dumarest saw the woman's face, the sudden alertness revealed in the tautness of skin, the tension of the eyes.

He said with deliberate casualness, "Has anyone made you an offer for the holding?"

"The Maximus. A good offer but I refused it." Her face had sharpened even more. "Should I have?"

"Not if it made you a profit." Dumarest reared to sit upright on the bed. "Why did you refuse?"

"A whim." She rose to sit beside him, legs crossed, the mane of her hair hanging like a curtain over her shoulders and breasts. "I have no love for Kalova so why yield to his demands? In any case delay will make him the more eager to close a deal. Who knows? He may offer double again." And then, with transparent motive, she added, "Would it matter to you, Earl?"

"If you sold? No."

A lie she chose not to question. The music died as she again touched the button, warm air wafting, heavy with pungent scents to fill the chamber with exotic perfumes. Leaning back she stared at the mirror, the twin reflections so close above.

"Life," she mused. "Why must it always be struggle? To spend it with someone special, to eat and drink and have a soft bed-how can there be more? Tell me, Earl, have you never wanted to settle down? To marry, rear sons, watch them grow? To belong to a family of note and walk with pride? To know real security. Real happiness?"

"A dream," he said. "Always there is the need to struggle. Always someone hungry for what you have. Willing to kill for it. Or are you saying that Sacaweena is a world different from the rest?"

"You should know, Earl. What brought you here anyway? A promise, you said. A name. The promise of what? Great wealth? The eggs you stole from Kalova?"

"Stole?"

"Of course. You raided his holding." She shook her head in mock reproof at his ignorance. "Did your friend mislead you? Didn't you know you were stealing from the Maximus? Perhaps that's why he's so eager to gain this special sector. You and what you stole and, without doubt, a bloody revenge. You and your friend both, but he looked to be dying, so it all falls on you." Her hand reached up to caress his shoulder, golden hair clothing his arm with a mantle of silk. "You see how much you need me, my darling?"

The threat exposed-if she sold it would cost him his life. Not from the Maximus, though she believed him to be the enemy, but from the cyber at his side, Zao who would stop at nothing to achieve the capture of himself and his secret.

His real worth-if the woman guessed it how safe would he be?

The answer lay in the mirrors all around; for her there could be only one person of any importance. As yet she had tried to manipulate him to learn what she could-the truth would condemn him.

How to escape the trap?

"Earl?" Her hand ceased its movement, hair whispering as she pulled away from his body. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Of course not."

"You sat so still-did my stupid words worry you?"

"I was thinking of what you said. About a wife and family and the security it could bring. Yet you are alone, uncle dead, father dead, mother?"

"Dead too." She. sounded bitter. "Suicide. When I was five. Emil-" Irritation edged her voice. "He-well, never mind. That was twenty-five years ago."

"Emil?"

"My elder brother. He was drowned on an inspection tour of undersea installations. So I'm all alone, Earl. But it isn't so bad-at least I haven't hungry dependents and stupid advisors to contend with and there are no Family Councils." She forced brightness into her voice. "And the rest? The name?"

He smiled to match her own expression. "Name? Oh, what brought me to this world. Erce." He watched her in the mirrors. "I was told that used to be its name. Erce. You've heard of it?"

"Sacaweena was called that a long time ago. Before the Orres took over from the settlers they found here. A problem, Earl, one they solved in their own way. To be known as the Original Residents was a contradiction if they bought the world from others so they changed the name. A new world and so new settlers. No contradiction."

"And the others?"

"Those here before?" She shook her head. "Who knows? They couldn't make a go of it and were happy to sell."

With guns to help them make up their minds, threats added to bribery or it could have been a plain, simple massacre. Such things had been common in the past-had the name been changed to dilute the guilt?

Even if they had been allowed to leave peacefully it didn't help. How to follow them? Where to go? And if they had left anything of value behind them it must have long since been sold or broken for basic worth. And nothing would have been able to exist in the hills.

"So they had an entire world," mused Fiona. "A whole damned planet to call their own. One to hold and share out and play with just as they liked. One to keep all to themselves just as we keep it now. Just as we share it now. Hoarding it, you might say. But what makes you so interested in a name?" She frowned when he told her. "Earth? You're looking for Earth!"

She could have heard something, learned something-the chance had to be taken. A hope which died as she laughed.

"Earl, you're joking or crazy! The place doesn't exist. If it did it would be listed in the almanacs and navigation tables. With enough money you could hire a ship or buy a passage. It's a myth, I tell you. A legend!"

It was real and Dumarest knew it. He had been born on Earth, had left it as a boy, had spent years now searching for the way back. A way lost as he had traveled deeper into the galaxy, the very name a subject for amusement. Yet the planet was there, waiting for him and, one day, he would find it.

The soft voice said, "Maximus, Cyber Zao asks for audience."

The man could wait! Leaning back in his chair Rham Kalova scowled at the dancing lights on the relay and felt anger at the interruption. The plan needed careful preparation; every diversity and potential fluctuation had to be assessed before the first attack was undertaken. A diversion, he'd decided, one to forestall potential defenses, allow him to move in subtle ways and then, at the last, to win him the prize.

He'd have Fiona Velen groveling at his feet before it was over!

"Maximus?" The soft voice held a note of interrogation and he realized he hadn't answered the original announcement. For a moment he was tempted to vocalize his immediate reaction then thought better of it. Not that he needed Zao-for once he would act on his own, yet to insult the cyber would be to act with stupidity.

He said, temporizing, "I am engaged. Ask him to have patience and wait."

"For how long, Maximus?"

An hour? Two? How to tell how long it would take?

"I will summon him later." He looked again at the screen, frowned as again the voice broke his concentration, "What is it now?"

"Cyber Zao asks that you be notified that he will be unavailable for three hours, Maximus."

A snub and later he would decide what to do about it but for now let the man think he had asserted his authority.

"In three hours, then."

"Yes, Maximus."

Again he concentrated on the pattern of lights. All was relatively calm; only slight activity from a few minor holders maneuvering for advantage, as was to be expected. The large holders were quiescent, probably studying the situation and waiting for an opportunity. Arment would need to consolidate his recent gains and Helm must realize how dangerous it was to expand too fast. Bulem was easy meat and could be vanquished at a touch but would that be to his benefit? Reed held a flexible position and Lynne Oldrant's aspirations were obvious.

A pact? The woman was ambitious and noted for her greed. As was Myra Lancing. A moment and he had passed on to study other facts, other possibilities. The screen of lights changed as he moved to a closer study of any other variables. The weed in the installation held by Chargel- would that affect the value of Lobel's holding? Would the man again come to another's rescue? A possibility to be negated and for long minutes Kalova searched for a way to combat the event should it threaten. Time which joined that already wasted.

Again the soft voice broke his concentration. "Maximus. Cyber Zao has arrived."

So soon? Kalova blinked as he turned his head from the dancing, hypnotic glow of the lights. Should he send the man away or yield and allow him to enter? To work alone or to ask for aid?

Alone, he decided. His would be the labor and his the reward all the more sweet for having been gained by his own skill. A sweetness strengthened by another's respect and regard.

"Maximus?"

"Have him enter."

He chose to ignore the man, concentrating again on the signals, assessing streaming facts and feeling himself expand with recaptured ability.

"My lord?" Zao stepped to where Kalova was sitting. "You know that the woman Fiona Velen has taken Dumarest to her house? The prediction that they are now lovers is of the order of ninety-nine percent."

"An advantage, Cyber." Kalova looked at the tall, robed figure. "One I recognized as soon as the information was received. Let her use him; once she tires of her new toy she will be eager to sell."

The assessment of an amateur but Zao made no comment.

"Not that I will wait," snapped Kalova. "My plans are being formulated at this very moment. Pressure on Reed and Traske so as to apply a pincer movement on the holdings adjacent to those held by Barracola. The result will be a flurry between Judd, Vanderburg and Prador. While attention is diverted I will snap up Bulem and force the woman to sell in order to protect her eastern holdings. A good plan, you agree?"

A complicated one and it would not work as intended- Zao could tell it at a glance. Kalova was too blinded by his anger toward the woman to be able to assess clearly the situation. He ignored factors which had to be taken into account in his determination to ruin Fiona Velen who had dared to defy him. A weakness and one he failed to recognize. The fact alone proclaimed his failing abilities as did his insistence on working alone.

Megalomania, now clearly obvious, a disease which threatened the stability of Sacaweena.

"Well?" Kalova was impatient. "Your comments?"

"I would advise a delay, my lord. Nothing is to be gained by undue haste."

"You talk of delay? What of the punishment you wish to inflict on Dumarest?"

"You confuse determination with revenge, my lord. Haste can lead to error and confusion. The delay I speak of is a matter of a few days. Time to wait until the situation is more favorable."

"You doubt my plan, is that it?"

"My lord-what if it should fail?"

"It will not fail!" Kalova's hands were quivering with rage, an anger reflected in his eyes, the savage compression of his lips. Abruptly he rose to pace the floor with quick, impatient strides. "I am the Maximus," he snapped. "I am that because I won the majority holding years ago. The skill which served me then is still with me. You have helped, Cyber, that I agree, but this is one thing I will do alone. That bitch will have cause to regret her contempt!"

"Even so, my lord, I-"

"No!" Kalova was curt in his interruption. "I will hear no more. Why did you want to see me?"

"A matter of your authorization on this order." Zao produced it. "For the. guards at the field," he explained. "Under no circumstances must Dumarest be permitted to leave this world without your approval."

An irksome formality and already he had given the instructions but the fierce pride of the Orres demanded such rituals. Each held complete autonomy over his holdings; to violate their rights would be to risk losing all.

"Here!" Kalova threw back the signed order. "Your man is trapped-I trust the Cyclan will be grateful for my cooperation."

Risan was busy when Zao returned to his quarters, a sheaf of papers strewn on the desk before him, the compact keyboard of a computer at his side. On a relay the dancing lights flashed and glowed with shifting color, each change bringing action, fingers tapping the keys, checking, moving again.

As he went to rise Zao said, "Continue."

He took a place behind the acolyte, watching, making his own assessments. For some it was necessary to isolate each facet, to evaluate it, to fit it into an overall pattern. One which changed under the impact of newly received data to form new probabilities. The computer Risan was using was an aid he must learn to do without; no man wishing to run should practice on crutches.

"Well?"

Risan leaned back as the lights steadied. "The situation shows the effect of the northern storms on three communes. They will all need importations of food and water and, if to regain viability, new deposits of soil. The mines in the Tanaya sector are hitting narrowing seams. The weed from three undersea farms has been spoiled and must be used as fertilizer instead of basic food."

"Three major influences," said Zao. "How many minor?" He nodded at the answer. "Fifteen-that is correct. Seven of them are relevant to the main situation and the others can be assessed at a low order of importance. Your summation?"

Risan said, "Master, events are moving toward a nexus in which it is possible the present Maximus could be seriously weakened. A cabal has formed against him and he underestimates the potential danger."

"Your recommendations?"

"It is not for me to recommend, master."

The correct answer; a cyber did not take sides, back causes, uphold falling rulers. To advise was the full extent of their duties-all else was for the Cyclan not for those employing their services. Risan was ready for the final step and he would propose it as soon as the present situation had been resolved. In the meantime he had reason to make his report.

"Private seal," he ordered. "Total seclusion."

As the acolyte bowed Zao made his way to his private room. It was stark, bleak in its Spartan simplicity, the cot the only item of relative luxury, but even so the soft mattress was for functional use not for personal comfort.

As the door closed behind him Zao activated the thick band he wore around his left wrist. Electronic emissions created a zone of privacy against any spying device and the locked door and acolyte protected him from physical intrusion. Twin safeguards used when communicating with Central Intelligence. The rest was a matter of training and adaptation.

Lying supine on the cot, Zao relaxed, closing his eyes and concentrating on the Samatachazi formulae. Gradually he lost the use of his senses; had he opened his eyes he would have been blind. Locked in the prison of his skull his brain ceased to be irritated by external stimuli. It became a thing of pure intellect, its reasoning awareness the only thread of continued existence. Only then did the engrafted Homochon elements become active. Rapport followed.

Zao expanded with the sense of it.

Each cyber had a different experience; for him it was as if he had gained insight into every corner of the universe. He saw it and knew it and was of it as it was of him. Nodes of light bright with the shine of naked truth, marching in ordered array to the edges of infinity and, at the center, the massed intelligences of those who had served and continued to serve the Cyclan.

There was no verbal communication, only a mental communion, quick, near-instantaneous, organic transmission against which the speed of light was a crawl. Faster than ultra-radio. Faster even than thought.

Doubt

His verification.

Urgency

His understanding.

Insistence

His assurance.

Emphasis

The rest was euphoria.

It was always the same after rapport. A period in which the Homochon elements sank back into quiescence and the machinery of the body began to realign itself with mental processes. Zao hovered in an illuminated void filled with strange memories and alien concepts, dreamlike experiences and flashes of hallucination touched with disorienting vistas-scraps of overflow from other intelligences, the throw-away waste of other minds.

Opening his eyes he looked at the bare whiteness of the ceiling, assessing the information given even as his own had been sucked from his mind as if it had been water placed against a sponge. To capture Dumarest was a matter of prime urgency-Central Intelligence had left him in no doubt. The man must be taken and held at any cost. Against that directive the needs of Rham Kalova held little weight and he and his entire planet could be sacrificed should the need arise.

How best to obey?

The field was sealed and no ships were expected for at least a week, nor were any waiting to depart. Men in rafts watched the holding and reported on Dumarest's every movement. Soon Kalova would commence his plan to wrest sector D 18 from the woman's possession and with it Dumarest, who was resident. He would hand the man over to Zao as promised.

Or would he?

The ceiling was marred with small, almost invisible cracks, a tracery which spread in interwound convolutions like the distorted web of a spider. A mesh which resembled the problem and which Zao assessed even as he considered the variables open to those on whom he must rely. Dumarest was clever and shrewd as he had proven more than once. A man with a seemingly uncanny ability to escape from traps and snares as if sensing their presence; able to manipulate circumstances to his own advantage.

Against him the Maximus had nothing but the power bestowed by the peculiarities of this world's culture.

Already he had shown himself less than able to assess a given situation; the woman was not the dominant factor in her relationship with Dumarest no matter how it might appear. Kalova was basing his assumption on her reaction to men of his own culture but Dumarest was a stranger. She would be slow to tire of him if she tired at all and, long before that, Dumarest would have made his own arrangements to survive.

The pattern of cracks led nowhere, lines merging to meet and branch in an elaborate maze which held no meaning. Zao turned his attention from them, unwilling to spare even the little it had demanded. This time, as never before in his entire life, he must not fail.

What if Dumarest should confide his secret to Kalova? The man would be unable to resist the promise of what was offered, yet even to hint a warning against it would be to arouse his curiosity and turn him against further help to the Cyclan. To kill him would be easy but what would it gain? To replace him? To threaten him with ruin?

How to use what was to gain what needed to be?

A problem which Zao pondered as he lay staring at the ceiling, at the pattern of thin cracks which spread like the skeined threads of a person's life. Factors considered, assessed, evaluated. Others formulated and all woven into bars of metaphorical steel, forging a trap from which Dumarest could never escape.