Prison of Night

Chapter Twelve

"My lord, my lady!" The entrepreneur bowed. He was a small, smoothly rounded man with cool eyes and an ingratiating smile. A man of many interests who now dealt in the things of war. "Flame bombs of a new pattern which can be thrown or fired from a light-weight projector. Variable time-set fuses or impact detonation. The radius of effective destruction is thirty feet. The granules are adhesive and will burn through medium body-armor within five seconds. Secondary characteristics are metabolic breakdown of tissue together with the introduction of a nerve-poison. Truly a most effective weapon."

"No!" Lavinia shook her head. "To use such a thing against men!"

"A screaming mob can be a terrifying thing, my lady. And an opposing force, when faced with such devices, quickly lose their taste for combat. Am I not correct, my lord?" He waited a moment then, as Dumarest made no answer, delved again into the case his assistant had lifted on the table. "Miniature mines which can be dropped from a raft or sown from any moving transport. Each is the color of the terrain and will adjust by the action of photosensitive elements to acquire the exact shade on the place in which it lands. You see?"

He held out his hand and, as they watched, the egg-sized object he held took on the color of his palm.

"They can be adjusted for proximity detonation or impact; time-lapse or sonic sensitivity. They can remove the feet and legs up to the knees for an effective range of twenty feet. I can supply ten thousand of them packed in crates of two score dozen for a most reasonable price."

"Delivery?"

"Within a month, my lord." The man beamed at the prospect of a sale. With luck he would be back in town well before dark. "Payment in advance, of course."

Dumarest looked at the case. "Have you anything else?"

A new model laser, a sleeve gun, some mortar shells, a gas, liquids which were light sensitive and would burst into flame when exposed to the suns. Kars Oartok grunted as the man lifted an eyepiece together with its attendant wires and pack.

"Don't waste time showing us that. No one has any use for light intensifiers on Zakym."

"No?" The man shrugged and Dumarest watched the flicker of his eyes.

"A moment." He held out his hand. "I'd like to see that."

"A recent innovation, my lord." The man was quick with his praise. "Not a light intensifier in the sense that it amplifies existing light-sources but something more. It scans the infrared areas of the spectrum and converts the pattern of received energies into a visible form. That alone would be an achievement though, as I will admit, not a novel one, but there is more." He paused to gain dramatic impact. "The scanners also resolve residual energy content on and within the object examined. To be short, my lord, with this device you can see in absolute darkness."

"Impossible!"

"Not so, my lady. What is light? A source of energy, yes? Therefore, as long as energy exists in one form or another it can be converted to light. Others have found the device most attractive."

"For night attacks, yes," grunted Gartok. "But we don't have those on Zakym."

"As you say." The man replaced the apparatus in the case.

Dumarest followed it with his eyes, remembering the flicker he had seen, the hidden amusement. Gartok had brought the man to Belamosk with him on his return from town and, from his expression, was beginning to regret it.

"I'm sorry, Earl," he said. "I thought the man would have something we could use. Everything he's shown us so far is too costly, too elaborate or based on a late delivery."

"Not so, my lord!" The man had heard. "I have other items resting in the warehouse."

"Drugs? Medicines?"

"Yes, together with antibiotics, hormone salves, regrowth mediums, skin renewers-all the things the wounded need to regain mental and physical health. An order for Khasanne where they are locked in a vicious struggle-"

"But which you are willing to sett if the price is right," interrupted Dumarest, dryly. "Immediate delivery?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good!" Lavinia smiled her relief. "We have credit with the Nausi and there will be more when the herd is sold. If-" She broke off, recognizing the man's expression. "No?"

"My lady, I am a man of business. Expenses are high and profits small. To wait is to breed debt. If it were left to myself I would not hesitate but there are others, partners, you understand, who are not as confident in your victory as I am. And the load is spoken for and money is waiting. How can I explain my trust in your cause to those who are already using the money for a new enterprise?"

A lie, but the meaning was plain-no cash, no trade.

But she had jewels.

Dumarest led Gartok to one side as the man examined them. "Aside from him what else did you discover in town?"

"Little aside from rumor. Tomir expects more men and a few free-lances are looking for work. I gave them a half-promise. One of them told me that Tomir's equipment included long-range missiles for his launchers. And there was talk of a cyber."

"A cyber? When?"

"A while ago. He arrived after Tomir-something about a delayed vessel. I asked around but he seems to have vanished." Gartok shrugged. "Probably a mistake-a man saw someone wearing red and let his imagination run wild. I-" He broke off as sound filled the air, the rolling thunder of released energies which tore at the ears and filled the chamber with dancing motes of dust.

"Earl!" Lavinia turned toward Dumarest, her face startled, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "For God's sake! What's happening?"

Another explosion gave the answer, a third made it certain.

Castle Belamosk was under direct attack.

In his ear the voice from the combat radio said, "Nothing, Earl. I can't see a thing."

Roland, riding a raft following the foothills of the Iron Mountains, searching every inch of ground with high-powered binoculars.

Another voice, Gartok's, this time from close at hand, "Bare to the east. Not a man to be seen, not a trace." He sounded irritable. "I don't understand it. The bastards must be somewhere. And why the hell didn't they continue firing?"

A feint? But if Tomir had wanted to draw out the forces protecting Belamosk where would he attack next? And if he had wanted to reduce the castle then why cease firing before any real damage had been done?

Squatting in the raft Dumarest studied his maps, tracing the lines of suspected flight from the impact-points of the missiles. One had struck far beyond the western wall, another had landed close to the eastern side, more had dug craters in a wide-flung pattern to the south. The last had hit Ellman's Rest and blasted the old tree to splinters.

Each, he knew, could have been sent directly against the walls to blast a hole and bring down ancient stone.

"Earl?" Roland's voice again. "There's nothing here. Shall I return to the castle and supervise the work you ordered done?"

Cellars cleared, strengthened, stocked with food and water. The injured protected with bags filled with sand set along the infirmary and between their beds.

"Yes. Check with Jmombota about the drugs. Keep low-if you can see them then they can see you and a laser could burn you before you know it."

"There's no one here, Earl."

No one he could see, but Dumarest didn't bother to explain the difference, and the man was probably safe enough. Had units been placed on the attack he would have been shot at long before. Trigging the radio he said, "Kars?"

"Earl?"

"Rendevous as arranged."

The radios were part of the equipment captured from the mercenaries Tomir had hired and were probably being monitored. But Gartok knew what to do.

He stepped from the raft as it landed and strode to where Dumarest was waiting. The sunlight glinted from his helmet and body armor and gave him an appearance of ruthless, mechanical efficiency. Halting he scowled at the suns.

"Nearly ghost-time, Earl."

"We'll be on the way back before then." War on Zakym, had to be carefully timed. "We'll hit one point, do what we can, then run. Prisoners if we can take them."

"Bodies if we can't. A stop-over?"

"This one." Dumarest dropped to his knees and unfolded the map. "I'm making a lot of assumptions and they could all be wrong but if I've guessed right we could catch them here. See?" His finger traced lines. "The trajectories could have a common origin here. The team could have moved between shots but I doubt it, they came too close and were too carefully aimed."

"They all missed!"

"That's what I mean. I think the misses were deliberate. Roland found nothing in the foothills and neither did you in the east, That narrows it to about here. They could have gone to there but they'll guess we'll figure that. So they could be just here." He tapped at one of the black flecks.

"Or rafted right out of the area."

"They didn't ride high or we'd have spotted them. Later when we searched we saw nothing. No, they are still close." Dumarest folded the map and rose. "Let's see if we can get them."

He took the lead, riding low, lifting the raft barely enough to skim the massive boulders and summits of hills. Behind him the half-dozen men forming his unit crouched low and remained silent. Those in Gartok's raft did the same. A small defense but it helped, sound and the glint of sunlight from equipment could attract instant attention where the soft, ground-hugging approach of the rafts need not.

A crevass drifted past below, a rounded jumble of boulders like the marbles tossed by a child tired of its play, a patch of gnarled vegetation. A turn into a narrow pass, a lift, a long, slow passage over the contours of rolling hills and then, at full speed, a downward glide to where a long, dark building showed against the ocher dirt.

"Out!" Dumarest hit the ground and rolled to the cover of a rock as his men obeyed. "Cover!"

He loped forward, dropped, signaled with a sweep of his arm, waited as shapes scuttled past to drop in turn while he searched the area ahead with narrowed eyes, rifle poised to fire.

Nothing.

The building was silent, the area around void of any trace of life. Gartok, landing to one side, lifted his helmeted head.

"Nothing, Earl. The place is deserted."

"Be careful!"

Men could be waiting, traps set, even now fingers closing on triggers ready to loose a storm of fire. Yet if present those men remained invisible and instinct gave no warning. There was no movement aside from that caused by a sudden flurry of wind; little plumes of dust rising from the acrid soil.

"I'm going in." Gartok rose to his feet. "Cover me."

Dumarest moved so as to increase his field of view. He saw the mercenary step cautiously towards the building, dodge around a corner, vanish. A moment later he reappeared, waving.

"A bust," he said as Dumarest came close. "The place is empty. You guessed wrong."

Not wrong-they had arrived too late. Kneeling Dumarest looked over the floor seeing the marks of booted feet and trails of dragged equipment. The doors had been open and wind would have carried dust to hide the marks had they not been recent. And a pot of coffee resting on a stove was still hot.

"Warned!" Gartok slammed his hand against the pot and sent it flying to fall in a pool of steaming liquid. "Someone ordered them out, but why? If they had known we were coming they would have had us in a trap. If not why the move?"

Khaya Taiyuah brought the answer, landing an hour after their return to the castle, arriving as the suns were low and curfew was near. He was distraught, waving aside the wine Lavinia offered to him as he was ushered into the great hall. Waiting only for the servant to leave he said, abruptly, "You must yield. You must end the war."

"What?"

"I bear an ultimatum. I had no choice, to have refused was to have lost my worms." Bitterly he added, "For the shame I ask your forgiveness. You are not a coward. But the conflict must cease."

Dumarest said, "The terms?"

"Lavinia must yield and you must be handed over as a prisoner. You will not be harmed-that is a promise. All other prisoners will be exchanged. No compensation will be demanded other than the cost of the forces involved. If you refuse then Belamosk and other castles will be destroyed. My worms-" He gulped. "The work of a lifetime will be destroyed. Everything will be lost. Everything."

He sat, a man suddenly older than his years, this time not refusing the wine Lavinia set at his side. As he reached for it Roland said, "The castle! What can we do?"

"Fight!" Gartok snarled his impatience. "So we lose worms and collect bruises but that is war. An all-out offensive starting at first-light. Every raft and man to sweep the surrounding countryside and find those launchers."

An empty defiance. If Tomir had obtained the services of a cyber the outcome of the situation would already have been predicted and it was obvious what that would be. Pressure exerted on Lavinia to yield. More to have him handed over as a prisoner. The price of survival and who would resist? Taiyuah afraid for his precious worms? Navalok? Alcorus? Suchong? They would kill him to preserve their castles. Roland?

"You can't resist," he said. "The very thought of it is madness. They'll destroy the castle."

A bluff, but he didn't know that and could never be convinced. Dumarest knew better. The Cyclan wanted him alive for the secret he carried in his brain. The reason the stop-over had been deserted, why no shots had been fired at the rafts, why the missiles had fallen well clear of the walls.

The promise would be honored. For how long was another matter.

"Earl?" Lavinia stared at him, her eyes wide. "What can we do? What do you want us to do?"

"It doesn't depend on Earl," said Roland quickly. "It's up to you to decide. If you agree to yield the war will be over. There will be peace. And what choice have you?"

"Earl?"

"We can fight." He glanced at the woman. "We could even win if you're willing to take the gamble."

"How?"

He said, flatly, "We ask the Sungari to help us."

Dawn broke with a scud of cloud which blurred the suns and threw a dull light over the upper promenade. Despite the thick cloak she wore Lavinia shivered, knowing the cold was less the result of temperature than trepidation. Roland, at her side, rested his hand on her arm.

"It's cold, my dear, you had best go below."

"No."

"What do you hope to see? Earl has gone with Gartok and we shall know nothing until the mercenary returns. And the whole thing is madness. Surely you know that? The Pact must not be broken."

"Is courage madness?"

"No, but a madman can have courage. Or," he corrected, "a blind determination which has that appearance. Why does Earl insist on continuing the war? He was willing to sell the land a short while ago."

"But not willing to be a prisoner. Why, Roland?" Turning she met his eyes. "Why should they want him handed over? And why should you?"

"I don't." He was quick in his defense. "I am only thinking of your welfare. Belamosk a ruin, the land ravaged, the herd slaughtered, and for what? Haven't enough men died as it is? If he loves you-"

"If?"

"— he will not want you to suffer. He will sacrifice himself for you as I would. And, after he has gone, things can be as they were." His hand tightened a little on her arm. "And I shall be with you, my dear. I shall never leave you."

"Neither will Earl."

"No?" He shrugged as if at the unthinking stubbornness of a child. "How can you be so certain of that? He is a traveler, restless, impatient to move on. What is he doing now? A thing of madness. To try and meet the Sungari and enlist their aid. To break the Pact and hope not to be destroyed. Fortunately the chances of him doing what he hopes to achieve are small. He could even die trying and, if he did, what has he gained? How can you trust that such a man will remain at your side? It would be best to forget him."

"That is impossible."

"So you may think, my dear, but you are wrong. Time is a great healer and the passing days erase even the strongest of memories. Soon after he has gone, it will be as if you had never met. Then, like a dream-"

She said, impatiently, "Roland, you are a fool. I am carrying his child."

"What?" He fought for breath. "No. You are mistaken."

"Time will prove me right." She missed the hurt in his eyes, the pain, too occupied with her own pleasure. "Be glad for me, my friend. You can see how impossible it is for me ever to forget him? Each day, each hour a part of him is with me."

"Does he know?"

"I hinted but I think he is convinced I was teasing. But soon he will have no doubt."

She smiled, thinking, imagining, the swell of her belly which would announce the coming life, the kick of barely formed, the stir of impatient life eager to be born. Boy or girl? A son or a daughter? No matter which, either would be an anchor to hold him fast. And there would be others to keep the first company.

"Lavinia, I am glad." She felt his hand resume its pressure on her arm and, looking at him, saw an emotion in his eyes she did not recognize. "As you say Earl will always be with us. His child if nothing else. Together we could watch it grow and teach it the old traditions of the Family."

"We, Roland?"

"If Earl does not return. If something should happen to him." His eyes searched her face. "Are we to pretend it couldn't?"

As she had pretended during the long night when, alone, she had thought of him sitting, brooding over his maps, forming a plan.

A chance, less than one in a thousand, but a chance all the same. The only one he had if he hoped to escape the Cyclan and the trap he was in.

The caverns of the Sungari were unknown. They were a legend from the past. A scrap of history distorted, possibly, into fable. The things which killed in the night had never been investigated. The entire story could have been invented to protect the early settlers from the nocturnal threat.

And yet how often had he been told that Earth did not exist-and of all men he knew as well as any that it did.

And there were clues; a crevass containing a dead beast and a dead man, smoke which had stung his eyes and which had held a moving shape, a foal which had trotted from the smoke to vanish.

To vanish where?

He had been ill, dying, toxins flooding his body, the smoke catching his lungs and blurring his vision. A movement which had taken on the shape of a foal. But foals did not run alone and no mare had been close.

"There!" Roland pointed. "The raft, returning."

But without Dumarest. Lavinia watched as it landed and Gartok, jumping out, came towards them. Pearls of moisture glinted on his helmet and armor.

"Kars?"

"He found an opening, my lady. A cavern of some kind or a natural fissure. Earl wouldn't let me enter it with him. Said to come back and take command of the men." He glared at Roland. "I take it there's no argument?"

"From me? None."

Lavinia said, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"We can pray, my lady. I'm not much good at it myself, but I'm willing to learn."