Nectar of Heaven

Chapter Fourteen

There was wine but Fiona hadn't needed it; the euphoria of victory filled her with its own intoxication. Now, laughing, she lifted her glass to toast her success.

"To you, Earl, and you, Hart. Victory to us all!"

Wine added ruby to her lips, a moistness to their soft invitation, which was reflected in her eyes. Dumarest recognized the biological heat born of the end of tension, the reaction from strain.

He said, "What happens now?"

"Nothing." Fiona set down her wine. "Kalova made a mistake and so froze the situation. We must have the Gross. We started with one hundred and forty-seven. I took out one and the Maximus the other three. That leaves one hundred and forty-three. One short. There can be no trading, no exchanges, no auctions until the Gross has been restored."

"The way's open for challenges," explained Vardoon. "Usually one is picked but any can go forward. And any holder can be challenged. Of course they can use a champion, but the facts remain." He frowned, looking thoughtful. "You, Earl. Why not you?"

"I'm not of the Orres."

"No. I'd forgotten. A shame-you could have been the next Maximus."

"He still could be." Fiona came close. "Or her consort."

"You?"

"Why not? With your help, Earl. You've shown me how it can be done. Once things get back to normal we can really build up my holding. Kalova's shaken now and if Annent and Helm work with us he won't stand a chance." Her arms lifted to close about his neck. Below his eyes her face was vibrant with imagined power. "The Maximus," she murmured. "The Queen!"

Ambition displayed but he had no interest. His part was over; she retained the church and now held the field. Unless she prevented it there was nothing to stop him from leaving once a ship was available.

"Earl?" Her lips closed the space between themselves and his own. "You will work with me, darling? Advise me? Teach me more of your cunning? Earl, you know how I feel about you. Together we could go so far. Have so much. Stay with me, darling. Be at my side."

The chime of the doorbell saved him from the necessity of an answer. Melvin Bulem, face hard, eyes cold, followed Vardoon into the chamber.

Without preamble he said, "I am ruined-you know that?"

"Melvin, I'm so sorry!" Fiona gushed a false sympathy. "Kalova had no need to destroy you."

"It was your fault." His eyes rested on Dumarest. "You and your lies. Your hints and persuasions. I thought you a friend and treated you as such. Why did you do this to me?"

"You did it to yourself," said Vardoon. He stood a little behind and to one side of the visitor, his hands poised for action. "You let greed blind you. A mistake but you made it. Now stop crying like a baby and blaming others."

Without looking from Dumarest, Bulem said again, "Why did you do this to me?"

To him and to a dozen others, tempting them with the golden lure of ardeel, guiding them down the path he wanted them to take. Warriors persuaded to fight in his cause. Bulem was nothing but an unlucky casualty.

Dumarest said, "Reparation will be made. Fiona, will you see to it? My share of the eggs." To Bulem he added, "With money you can buy your way back. Obtain new holdings."

"I trusted you."

"That is why I'm making reparation."

The most he could do but Bulem's hurt was too deep to be assuaged with recompense. He said stiffly, "You are generous and it is appreciated, but you will understand why you are no longer a welcome guest. My house is closed to you."

His house, his brother, the book which could hold the secret he had searched for so many years. The wine Vardoon handed to him held a sour bitterness.

"A fool," said Vardoon as Dumarest lowered the goblet. "But at least he had the guts to meet you face to face. For a moment there I thought he was going to try to kill you."

"Would you have blamed him?"

"No. I'd have felt the same in his place." Vardoon scowled as, again, the door demanded attention. "Who the hell is it this time?"

Bulem had been tense, cold, determined; Kalova was seething with rage. It showed in every gesture, every move. In the darting flicker of his eyes, the continual flexing of the fingers. Small points of froth hung at the corners of his mouth and his eyes held traceries of red.

"You bitch!" He glared at Fiona as he thrust forward into the room. "You cunning, underhanded bitch!"

"Wipe your mouth, Maximus."

"What?"

"You heard what I said. Either talk like a man or get out of my house." She was smiling, confident in her power, the strength her companions gave. What could an old man do against Dumarest and his friend? "This house is my holding," she said. "You have no right here, no authority. If you can't act like a guest, Kalova, then leave."

He had not come alone. Behind him, standing like a tall and silent flame, Zao watched with burning, deep-set eyes. Like a shadow, his acolyte stood to one side. Three men but the cyber held the power.

Fiona sensed it as she had in Dumarest; a radiated aura which set him apart from others, but the two were not the same. Dumarest held the strength of an individual who had long learned to rely on none other than himself. Zao had the confidence of a tremendous organization at his back, the trust in his own abilities, the conviction that what he did was right.

He said, "My lady, I must congratulate you on your ability. The manner of attack was unusual and most effective."

"Lies," snarled Kalova. "The bitch cheated. The fools who attacked me were deluded as to the real worth of the northern holdings. I should have crushed them all!"

As he had crushed Bulem and so halted all operations-the mistake which would kill him.

"The signal, of course, was your own bidding for the selected holdings," continued Zao as if Kalova did not exist. "Those who had been primed followed your lead and the rest was inevitable." Emotive children driven by greed and imagination. The mere fact that someone wanted something was evidence to them that it had to be of value. Supply and demand. Crazed bidding and a form of hysteria too common to any society founded on financial manipulation. And Dumarest had instigated the debacle. "I have a suggestion, my lady, which you may find of interest."

Dumarest said, "Talk to him later, Fiona. After I have gone."

Zao turned, met his eyes, looked again at the woman. "It would not be wise to delay. Opportunities should be seized when available or else another may gain the prize."

A threat she recognized and what harm would it do to talk?

"Later, Fiona. Talk-"

"Hush, Earl!" She smiled at him as if he were an impatient child then looked again at the tall figure in scarlet. "He is eager to celebrate my success," she explained, "but a pleasure deferred is a pleasure doubled-or so I have been told. Why don't you make some tisane, Earl? Take your friend with you-I'm sure that what the cyber has to say can be of little interest to either of you."

She frowned as neither moved-a reaction noted and assessed by Zao. As he had predicted, the woman relished the taste of power and was already forgetting who had given her the present victory. But for Dumarest she would have been in Bulem's position.

Kalova said, "I came to warn you, bitch! As Maximus I'm calling a full, extraordinary meeting of all holders to discuss the events of the past few hours. You are guilty of cheating, misrepresentation, collusion, conspiracy, the use of bribes and the employing of outside agents. I don't think there will be much opposition to my suggestion that the situation be restored to what it was before the last adjustments took place. A day," he added. "Perhaps two. We could even go back to the time before your lover took an interest."

"You can't do that."

"No? That's what you think."

"That's what I know!" Her tone was sharp. "You're talking of custom, not law. Just because it hasn't been polite to do what you accuse me of doesn't mean it isn't allowed. To win, Maximus, that's the only real law. To win!"

"And to continue to win, my lady." Zao's tone was a contrast to the raised voices. "That is what I'd hoped to talk about with you. A new Maximus will be subjected to tremendous pressures from other aspirants to the title and will need all the help available. You may, naturally, feel you do not need such help, in which case I will be free to offer my services elsewhere."

Another threat, this time more open; either she employed Zao or he would work for another and, if he did, what then of her power?

She said slowly, "Let there be no mistake about this, Cyber. You are offering to help me become the Maximus?"

"Exactly so, my lady."

"And Kalova?"

A fool who would have been dead by now if it hadn't been for the woman who'd guarded his office. Two deaths within minutes, both of apparent cardiac arrest, both with a common factor, was to invite unwanted suspicion. And, always, had been the chance of his making an adjustment with Fiona. One irretrievably lost as he grasped just what Zao was proposing.

"Her? That bitch in my place?"

Zao said, "I give you notice, my lord, that the Cyclan has terminated the services provided on your behalf as agreed. If you accept, my lady, I am now in your employ."

To stand at her side, to take what she had and use his talent to build it into a commanding whole. To make her the largest holder-the Maximus. But what would be his price?

He said, in answer to her blunt question, "The man at your side, my lady. Earl Dumarest."

The display had stilled but color shifted in the mirrors adorning the walls; the shift of scarlet as Zao turned, a gleam from the acolyte, the sheen of lavender and gold, of emerald and amber from Kalova, the dull hues of Vardoon, the gray of his own clothing. Tints which grew by repeated reflection. A frame for the golden mane of the woman's hair, the warm velvet of her skin, the ebon of her gown.

Death in a rounded form.

She wouldn't know it or care if she did. Dumarest had no illusion; the bribe offered was too tempting for her to resist. To become the Maximus! The ultimate achievement of her world.

Vardoon said, frowning, "You want Earl? What the hell for?"

"That is none of your concern. My lady?"

An illusion of dependence was skillfully maintained but Dumarest knew its real worth. One way or another Zao was determined to hold him fast. If he could continue in his position on this world then he would do so but, if he had to kill them all besides Dumarest he would do it without hesitation.

"My lady?"

"A moment," she said. "I need to think. You want Earl- but why?"

"A matter of justice, my lady. He needs to answer for crimes committed against the Cyclan."

That was the explanation given to Kalova, which he hadn't bothered to give Vardoon. But still Fiona hesitated.

"A prisoner? You want to lock him in a cage? I'm not sure I can let you do that. But-" Gold filled the mirrors as she shook her head, her hair falling from the restraining band. "Give me time."

Seconds which could stretch to minutes at the most. Time which must not be wasted. As she began to pace the floor Dumarest checked the room, the people in it.

The chamber was large and made to appear larger by the mirrored walls. Fiona took ten long strides to cover it from one end to another, the long, smooth contours of her thigh flashing through the slit in her skirt. Small tables stood by the walls bearing various ornaments. The furnishings were sparse, some chairs, a couch, a tall vase filled with crystalline blooms. Doors to the other rooms were hidden in reflective deception. A warm, snug, tight and windowless room. One turning into a cell.

Vardoon shifted a little where he stood behind Dumarest and a little to one side. The man would be neutral if not an active ally. The acolyte, watchful, had his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his robe. He was armed, one hand on a gun, ready to defend his master in case of need but he would hesitate before opening fire. Kalova stood with his back to a wall, mouth parted, eyes glazed. The sound of his breathing rose above the soft scuff of the woman's sandals; a ragged gasping with held liquid susurations. A man tottering on the edge of control, stunned by recent events, a victim of rage and fear about to collapse or explode. One of his hands was buried in a pocket, the other hung limp at his side. Fiona?

She turned and walked to the center of the room to pause and look at Dumarest.

"Earl-I'm sorry."

He said urgently, "Fiona, give me a chance. Wait for a few days. A ship's due and I can leave on it."

A plea to gain time and fire the Maximus's rage, so he could utilize to the full his one, single advantage. Zao did not want him dead and would have impressed that on his acolyte. Even so he could be maimed, burned, blinded and rendered helpless. But to determine that would take an extra split second of aim; force an added assessment.

Vardoon rumbled, "After what he's done, girl, it doesn't seem too much to ask."

"You'll be the new Maximus," said Dumarest. "With Zao to help you how can you fail? Kalova will be no problem. He'll be dead before we leave this room. Why leave him to make trouble? A few days, darling. Just give me a few days."

"Dead?" Kalova seemed to be choking. "Dead?"

"Shut up, you old fool!" In imagination she was already the Maximus and he just an irritating nuisance. "Earl, believe me, I'd like to help you, but-" Her shrug was expressive. "A chance like this comes only once."

"So you're willing to sacrifice me," said Dumarest. "Just as you're willing to see Kalova die. He's got to be killed, of course, I can see that. But I can't do you any harm. You don't have to send me to death as you do him. And he is going to die-you know that?"

"Like you said, Earl-there's only one law. To win no matter what the cost." She added, smiling, "And the winner never has to pay."

"You bitch!" Kalova exploded at last. "You'd kill me? Me!"

He lunged from the wall, his hand appearing from his pocket, the laser it held leveling, the guide beam a ruby sword which cut a flaming swath over the black fabric of her gown. To rise and slash at her face. To fall and cut at her breasts, the stomach below. To turn the golden mane of her hair into leaping scarlet and to puddle her thighs with blood as she lay screaming on the soft pile of the carpet.

"Fiona!"

Vardoon dived toward Kalova, his face a bestial mask of animal fury, hands reaching to grab and tear, to twist and break. Even as he called, Dumarest was moving, one hand snatching up a heavy ornament to send it like a bullet into the acolyte's face, to crush his temple and send him staggering backwards, his hand falling with the gun it had held, dead before he touched the floor.

"Hold!" Zao also was armed. The beam from his laser touched the floor and created rising smoke. "Move and I burn your legs!"

Dumarest froze, hand reaching to the knife in his boot. The cyber had moved faster than he'd guessed, anticipating Kalova's explosion, Vardoon's reaction. Now he glanced at the slumped body of the woman, the man crouched beside her, Kalova's body lying with a broken neck to one side. The laser, knocked from his hand, rested at the base of the tall vase of crystalline flowers.

"Lift your hand, Dumarest. Up. Higher." The muzzle of his gun emphasized the command. "I warn you against trying anything foolish. Your speed is well known to the Cyclan and I took accelerating drugs as a precaution. Reach for that knife and I will burn off your hand before you can touch it. Burn out your eyes too, if it becomes necessary. Now lift your other hand. Raise them both well above your head. Now move back against the wall and turn to face it."

He stood with arms raised to wait for the blast of the drug from the hypogun which would render him totally helpless. In the mirror he could see Zao as he produced it to hold in his other hand. A tall, scarlet shape reflected in the mirror, multiplied by added reflections from the mirrors to either side.

Mirrors!

Dumarest moved, throwing himself to one side, feeling the heat as the laser seared his thigh. Plastic burned to reveal the protective mesh beneath. A fraction of time and then the beam, reflected from the mirror, hit another, a third and bounced back toward its source. As the scarlet robe burst into flame Dumarest threw his knife.

It lanced through the air, a glittering extension of his arm, to reach the skull-like face, an eye, to bury its point deep into the brain. As Zao fell, Dumarest joined Vardoon at the woman's side.

"Earl!" The laser had slashed her face, blinding an eye, ruining the nose, the cheek, the edge of her jaw, but the untouched mouth managed to smile. "Forgive me, darling? Please forgive me."

"She's dying," said Vardoon. "Dying!"

The face could be healed, the breasts, but the beam had seared too deeply into her stomach. The spleen was damaged, the liver, the kidneys and spine. The intestines had been cut-only the cauterizing effect of the laser which sealed as it cut had enabled her to live so long.

"Earl!" The hand which gripped his tightened. "I had to do it. You understand? To win-nothing else mattered. To win at any cost. You taught me that, my darling. Earl! I love you!"

Blood reddened her lips as Dumarest lifted his free hand to touch her throat and search for the carotids. Vardoon knocked it away before he could apply merciful pressure.

"No, Earl, not that!" The box in his hand opened to reveal clustered golden pearls. "This!"

The nectar of heaven.

Vardoon gave it and Dumarest watched as, smiling, she died.

A wind had carried rain from the sea, a thin downpour which left sparkling droplets on the shrubs and trees, to hang like transient gems on the perimeter fence of the field. Underfoot the ground was dark with a rich, brown dampness which would soon dry beneath the heat of the sun. As the clouds to the north would thin and fray apart to reveal the distant loom of the storm-wracked hills.

Kicking a stone, Vardoon said, "You don't have to go, Earl. There's a home for you here for as long as you want it."

"I know."

"A safe place. If anyone comes looking for you they'll be wasting their time." He paused then said abruptly, "She loved you. I guess you know that. In her way she really loved you."

Dumarest looked at the sky, not wanting to answer.

"Not that it matters." Vardoon sucked in his breath and shook his head. "It's all over now. That lunatic! If it hadn't been for him she'd be alive this moment."

And he would be a helpless prisoner. A point Dumarest didn't mention as he remained silent about others. Instead he said, "So you're staying."

"Until things get sorted out." Vardoon looked at the ship waiting on the field; a small, battered trader on which Dumarest had booked passage. "About money, Earl. You gave your share to Bulem and the rest is tied up as registered assets. It can't be touched while things remain as they are. All we have is the eggs used to dazzle the marks. It's yours together with this." A bag accompanied the box. "Some of Fiona's jewelry. All the cash I could find. The cost of maybe a dozen High passages. Wait for the next ship and it could be a lot more."

"This will do." To wait was to meet the cybers who would be already on their way. Dumarest looked to where a monk stood by the fence. "I'll be back."

Tobol greeted him with a smile. "An old custom," he said. "One I like to observe; to wish a friend a pleasant journey and to see him on his way."

"You think of me as a friend?"

"You consider yourself an enemy?"

"Of the Church? No." Dumarest looked at where Vardoon waited. "Will there be trouble?"

"Over the inheritance? No. There are records and they will prove his claim. He is extremely reluctant to make it but I think he has been persuaded to see the necessity. Odd how she never suspected who he really was."

"He is scarred," said Dumarest. "And she was young at the time. Also there was the matter of shame-he had run from his responsibilities."

"A man old enough to be ambitious and yet too young to have any real power. He must have hated seeing his mother make such obvious mistakes. Hated his uncle too, perhaps, but all that is in the past."

"If you continue to advise him suggest that he propose to the holders that no cyber should be allowed to give his services to any one individual. A total ban would be better. Suggest, too, that it would be wise to extend the field of those qualified."

"Smaller holdings and more to share them." Tobol nodded his agreement. "Destroy the resident-concept and allow free enterprise and this society might well be able to survive." He looked at the box Dumarest held toward him. "For the Church?"

"All of if."

"You are more than generous." Tobol looked up from the open receptacle, startled. "All of it?"

"To ease the dying." He remembered Fiona, the pain she would have suffered when shocked nerves had resumed their function. "To sell if you want. To use as you decide. I want none of it."

A man dedicated to life; uninterested in the means of death. Tobol tucked the box under his arm, lifting a hand in farewell as Dumarest walked away.

Vardoon came to meet him as the warning siren echoed across the field.

"Time's running out, Earl."

"I know."

"Need any help getting aboard?" Vardoon shrugged as Dumarest smiled. "No, I guess not, but I wish I were coming with you."

"You've work to do here."

"I know. Well, take care of yourself and don't forget there's a home here whenever you want it." Vardoon held out his hands, palms upward in the mercenary salute of peace. "Good-bye, Earl."

"Good-bye-Emil."

Dumarest turned and walked across the field to the waiting ship, the sky, the empty spaces between the stars.