Web of Sand

Chapter Ten

The Cinque had been generous. Tosya had been given an apartment as luxurious as any in the city but the elaborate paintings, the vases, statuettes and all the other items of worth which graced the suite meant as little to him as had the food and wines at the dinner. The only thing he found to admire in the entire complex was the acoustic quality of the main room which revealed an unexpected mathematical precision.

It gave the thin voice of Jen Tinyah a deepened resonance.

"You are satisfied with the accommodation, Cyber Tosya?"

"It will serve."

"We are happy to do our best to accommodate any servant of the Cyclan. I regret the necessity of the ship in which you arrived having had to leave. The captain, well, such men are inclined to be over-anxious."

"And, on Harge, with reason." Tosya said, "If you were to build an underground installation suitable for the housing of vessels against the storms, your trade would increase by a factor of at least twelve hundred percent. The installation would, naturally, include a warehouse complex and small processing plants. This, together with a higher rate of tourism, would expand your economy and enhance your stability."

"Stability." Jen Tinyah pulled at his lower lip. "I would like to discuss that matter with you. The question of the social stability of Harge has long been a source of concern to me and to my Family. If there should be a failure to maintain the order of things we would like to ensure our wealth and influence. You understand?"

Too well and Tosya, if he had owned the ability to enjoy humor, would have smiled. The old pattern, both predictable and inevitable. When the foundations began to crumble each looked after his own.

He said, "I will bear it in mind, my lord. But if I am to be of real assistance it is essential that I be given full access to all local data. You are computerized?"

"Not totally. But you can use the phone and I will give instructions to all departments that you are to be given all aid in the name of the Cinque."

An irritation and yet more proof of the inefficient running of the city. A natural result of the Family's mutual suspicion and desire for individual secrecy. Such an outlook blinded them to the obvious-even the merest acolyte could have told them of the worth of a protective installation. Told them too how easily it could be accomplished with the aid of the debtors to provide labor. Some power, some forming mechanisms, the use of a little machinery and the rest done with the muscle and sweat of those who would work to help clear their burdens of mounting interest.

Free labor-but they refused to see it. The common fault of capitalistic societies and the more so when they operated on a basis of wild usury. Interest was not actual money but simply a paper figure. It could be cancelled without real loss. And, if replaced by a viable construction, there could only be gain.

Alone Tosya busied himself with the phone.

It was work better done by an acolyte and he regretted the absence of his usual aides, but one had fallen sick and the other, newly promoted, had left to take up a post on a minor world. He would be given others but, in the meantime, he must work alone.

To the face appearing on the screen he said, "Full details of all arrivals on the last three vessels. Names of captains of those vessels, points of departure and intended destinations."

An elementary check which would be followed by others. The city was relatively small, contained, it would be impossible for anyone to hide in it for long-not when the trained and perceptive mind of a cyber could predict where and when he would be.

A simple problem and one hardly worthy of his talents but Tosya knew the importance of his mission. That had been made clear when he had been instructed to order the diversion of the ship in which he was traveling to Harge. An order emphasized by the authority of the Cyclan and the reward the captain would receive for obedience.

The phone rang; he answered, listened, gave other instructions. Again, as he waited, he reviewed the situation and felt a mounting satisfaction. It was impossible for him to fail or, if not impossible, the probability was so remote as to be negligible. It would be as well, perhaps, to so inform Central Intelligence. And yet he hesitated.

The possibility of failure always remained.

Nothing was or could ever be one hundred percent certain. Always there was the possibility of the unknown factor which could upset the most carefully calculated prediction. And Dumarest seemed to have the faculty of attracting such unknown factors. Too often in the past had unforeseen circumstances enabled him to escape from the traps which should have contained him. Too many agents and cybers had died, paying the penalty of failure even in the moment of imagined triumph.

No, it was better to wait, to be certain.

And yet the temptation remained-to retire to his couch and activate the band locked around his wrist which created a zone of force to baffle any prying electronic eye or ear. Then to relax and concentrate on the Samatchazi formulae and to lose all sensory perception so that, locked within the prison of his skull, his brain ceased to be irritated by external stimuli. Only then would the grafted Homochon elements become active and rapport be gained.

And, with it, communication with the central intelligence which rested buried beneath miles of rock which protected the headquarters of the Cyclan. There would be no verbal delays; his information would be sucked from his mind as water was absorbed by a sponge-almost instantaneous transmission against which the speed of light was a crawl.

And, after, would come the thrilling exuberance of mental stimulation as the Homochon elements sank back into quiescence and the machinery of the body began to realign itself with cerebral control. A brief period in which he would drift in an enveloping darkness sensing strange concepts and novel situations-affected by the scraps of overflow from other intelligences, the residue of other communications. living in the aura surrounding the tremendous cybernetic complex which was the heart of the Cyclan.

One day he would join it. His body would age and his senses dull but his mind and ego would be saved. They would take him and remove the brain from his skull and immerse it in a vat of nutrient fluids. Attached to a mechanical life-support system he would remain alive and fully aware. He would combine with those other intelligences housed in the multitude of brains forming the complex and share in their potential immortality.

The reward of every cyber if he did not fail.

Hine was dead. He lay where Dumarest had placed him, one hand still gripping the bag around his waist, his face beneath the transparency puffed, the eyes staring, blood thick around the mouth.

"Crushed." Santis looked up from where he knelt beside the body. "He was dying when you lifted him, Earl. Dead before we reached the fissure." He forced the bag from the dead fingers. "At least you were lucky-we found nothing. A wasted journey."

One not yet over. From where he leaned against the wall Kemmer said, "God, won't they ever stop? The damned things are still after us."

On the scent and getting close. He could still see the thrusting snouts probing the fissure into which they had run. Remember too the fury of activity as they had fought to get beyond reach of the creatures. His bulk jamming in the narrow opening, Dumarest hauling him clear, Santis standing and firing as they gained distance, Dumarest covering their escape in turn.

But, even now, they had no time in which to rest. Through the conducting material of his helmet he could hear the loudening grinding which told of advancing destruction.

"Earl-"

"Wait!" Dumarest was stooped over the dead man. He handed the trader Hine's belt and lantern. The tent together with the radio and other remains of their supplies had been cached in a small junction. "Carl, take a sounding from that crack." He pointed to a spot facing the trader. "Hear anything?"

"Yes-and close."

An attack from two sides, then, and there could be more. Dumarest lay prone, head twisted so as to rest against the floor. The sound almost deafened him.

"Up!" He rose to his feet. "Take the lead, Carl. Head up that crack and take any tunnel you find heading to the right. We've got to recover the tent. Get after him, Maurice. Move!"

Kemmer hesitated, looking at Dumarest where he stood beside the dead man.

"You're not thinking of carrying him with us?"

"No. Now hurry!"

Hine was dead but could still help the living. Odors rose as Dumarest ripped open his helmet and suit; the scent of meat and moisture, of minerals and bone, an attraction to the sannaks pressing close and one which could fetch others lying ahead to join the feast.

One came writhing from a narrow tunnel a few yards beyond where Santis hugged the rock. A small creature which flopped and twisted like a snake to lunge at the body as the floor rose in splintered shards and pluming dust as another grabbed at the prey.

"Hurry!" Dumarest urged the others on as a mass of scaled and furious shapes began to fight over the dead guide. "Quick-before they scent us!"

They would follow but first they would feed and precious time would be won. Time in which they crept down narrow tunnels, wider cracks, plunged into a broad passage, listening, pressing on, following discovered signs with mounting relief.

"Thank God!" Kemmer, sweating in his suit, voiced his worry. "I thought we'd got lost. That we'd never find the tent and radio. That-" He broke off as he followed Santis around a turn. "Hell!"

They had found the cache but a sannak had found it first. The tent was ripped, the supplies it had contained gone, the apparatus a mass of splintered shards. Some had been devoured, none was usable.

In the glow of a lantern a trannek glowed in silent mockery.

"Consolation," said Kemmer bitterly as Dumarest picked it up. "What the hell do we do now?"

"Climb." Dumarest was curt. "We've got to make our way to the summit."

"And then what? How do we summon a raft to pick us up without a radio?"

"Signal." Tired, the mercenary was curt. "Make smoke, a light, anything."

"Use this, perhaps?" The trader looked at his lantern. "Would it carry? The only use I've found for it so far is to dazzle the sannaks with the ultraviolet. It makes their eye plates glow like a trannek. Why didn't Hine tell us that? Maybe he didn't know. That means we could sell the information-" He was babbling and knew it. With an effort he broke off the monotone and said, "We'll think of something. First we have to reach the open air. Which way, Earl?"

A tunnel sloping upward which they left to swarm up a snaking vent, leaving it to crawl along a narrowing ledge which fell away to an echoing chasm. Crouched on the lip Dumarest looked upward, seeing in the beam of his helmet light a jagged fissure. A jump and his gloved hands caught the edge, a heave and he was firm and leaning down to grip Kemmer's wrist, hauling as Santis pushed. A struggle, a moment of heart-stopping, tottering imbalance and he was up, safely past as the mercenary rose to take Dumarest's place.

"Wait!" He sagged, the sound of his breathing loud in the stillness. One hand fumbled at his waist, at the emergency pack each carried. "Your light, Earl. I can't see."

His hands steadied as Dumarest bathed them and the pack with light. The pouch opened to reveal the few items it contained; concentrated food, some stimulating drugs, some painkillers, salve to ease sores and chafes, capsules of antibiotics. Water was carried in a separate canteen. Santis hesitated as his hand touched his faceplate.

"Open it," said Dumarest. "But be quick." He watched as the mercenary fed himself three green tablets. "Take a sip of water then reseal." He craned his head to where the trader stood wedged in the fissure. "How about you, Maurice? If you need anything take it now."

"I can manage."

"It's your decision." Dumarest glanced down again to where the mercenary rested below. "All right now, Carl?"

"Yes."

"Can you manage to get above me?" If Kemmer should slip, a hand could manage to block his fall and, drugged, Santis had gained a transient strength. "Up now! Good!" Dumarest stared up at the fissure. It narrowed and rock bulged outward from a point high above. Above the overhang the vent could lead up into the open but passing it could pose a problem. Then, in the light, Dumarest saw a thin streak of darkness wending to one side and back to a higher point. A thin crack which could provide handholds and there could be more. "All right, Maurice. Start moving."

He waited as Kemmer inched his way upward, helmet pressed hard to the stone, listening to sounds other than those made by the climbers. Above the rasp of boots and gloves he heard the now-familiar grinding; the churn of crumbling rock, the slither of scaled bodies over stone. Twisting he looked back the way they had come. Nothing. Then, as he triggered the lantern, green patches flared in fluorescent brilliance from a point on the ledge.

A sannak, small, but coming close.

"Earl!" Kemmer yelled in his terror. "Up above! Quick!"

From a point above the overhang more green fluorescence and the shift of a pointed snout. Dust rained from beneath the bulk of the waiting creature.

"Trapped!" Dumarest looked up then down. "One waiting on the ledge and one on the overhang above. We'll have to get the one above."

"Leave this to me." Santis moved then froze. "No good. I can't aim and hold on at the same time. Prop me, Earl."

A chance but the only one they had. Against the sannaks they had only one rifle now and less than a full magazine. Four shots and the creature was masked by stone.

As Dumarest, lifting his free hand to prop the outcurved figure of the mercenary took the strain, he said, "Aim for the overhang itself. Split the rock and send it and the thing down together. Say when you're ready."

A moment while the mercenary settled himself then, "Ready!"

He fired as if he were at a shooting gallery, spacing his shots, aiming each one, sending each into the same line of rock after the other had detonated. Not one above the other but in close juxtaposition so the blasts would augment each other and fracture the stone. As the last missile flared from the muzzle the rain of dust became a shower of splinters, a hail of pebbles then, with a rush, the entire mass together with the beast it had supported.

"Earl!" Caught by the disturbed air Santis tilted, the rifle falling after the writhing sannak, his balance lost and causing him to lose the support beneath him. As he slipped, his boots jerked free from their holds and, suddenly, he was falling.

"Carl!"

Kemmer called from above as Dumarest snatched at the mercenary's belt. A moment then he slammed hard against the rock beneath, swinging like a weight at the end of a line, one which almost dragged Dumarest's arm from its socket, his grip from the fissure.

"Take your weight," he gritted. "Quickly!" Then, as Santis obeyed, "Maurice! Get your canteen. Open and drop it. Fast!"

One sannak was gone but the other remained and could be climbing after them this very moment A threat removed as the canteen fell to shower water over the ledge and provide a distracting and delaying bait. Even as it landed Dumarest took stimulants from his pack and swallowed them dry. His arms ached, his legs, and his vision was spotted with dancing flecks. The supreme effort he'd made had sapped too deeply at his strength. Coupled with previous exertions it had cost him too much.

"Earl?" Kemmer was anxious. "Can you make it?"

"I'll manage. Get moving now. The next time they attack we'll have nothing with which to stop them." Dumarest forced himself upward. "Keep going until we reach the open."

It was dark when they finally crawled from the Hills. The air held the iron chill of the desert but it was near dawn and the stars looked pale in the east. They had emerged from a cave low on the slope of a peak and stone towered above them in a series of jagged ridges. A faint breeze played among them, stirring vagrant dust and sending ghost-plumes to dance against the stars but, on the desert itself, all was calm.

"We made it!" Kemmer ripped open his helmet and sucked air into his lungs. Sobering he added, "But without a radio. How do we summon a raft?"

"We don't," said Dumarest.

"We could try smoke, but once we've burned what we have we're as good as dead if they don't see the signal and come for us." Santis sat, head bent, shoulders rounded with fatigue. "Maybe we could contact those other hunters who came out with us."

"How?" Kemmer provided his own answer. "Walk along the ridge until we meet them. On the sand we're asking for trouble this close to the feeding-nodes. Up on the hills we'd be worn out long before we ever got to them. No, I say we wait and, when we see a raft, we signal. Smoke during the day and the lights at night. We could try them now."

"No," said Dumarest. "You're forgetting something. We've hit it rich. We want to stay rich. The other hunters may have different ideas-they'd want a share regardless."

"A big share." Santis was grim. "They'll probably kill us to take it all. And if we signal for a raft they could come instead."

"But if we don't signal or contact the other hunters how the hell are we ever going to get back?" demanded Kemmer. "How?"

"It's simple," said Dumarest. "We walk."

Dell Chuba said, "Ellain, my dear. I am sorry. Truly I am, but what can I do?"

He could enjoy his food the less, she thought savagely. And be more sparing with the wine. And he needn't have invited her to dine with him in this expensive restaurant. Such a place was for pleasant things not the reception of bad news. She still couldn't be sure he wasn't joking.

"Let me get this straight, Dell. You are telling me that all my appointments have been cancelled? All of them?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Navida Yagnik made a special point of asking me to sing at her reception. Florence Adhalesh advanced me a portion of the fee for me to sing at her daughter's party-how am I to return it? And Matilda-all of them?" It was incredible. "But why, for God's sake? Why?"

"A change in fashion." His eyes were expressionless. "And don't worry about returning any advanced fees-there is no need. As for the rest, well, my dear, these things happen."

On Harge, maybe, but not on more civilized worlds. Certainly not on those with any pretensions to grace and culture. An entire class did not suddenly turn against an artist and for no apparent reason. Unless?

She said, "Dell, be honest with me. Has this been arranged?" The movement of his eyes gave her the answer and, fighting a sudden anger she insisted, "Who? Damn it, man, I've a right to know. Who!"

"I cannot tell you."

"Will not, you mean!"

"Cannot! I am not certain and a guess is likely to have unpleasant repercussions. But, let us say a hint was given, one strong enough for me to accept the inevitable and for me to advise you to do the same. Some more wine?"

She told him what to do with the wine and saw, by his startled expression, he had misjudged her. A lady, yes, but one not wholly as she seemed. One who, somehow, had gained a certain coarseness of thought and expression. At any other time it would have amused her, now she was too worried to feel enjoyment.

"You've been my agent since first I arrived," she reminded him. "You've arranged appointments and fees and seen to payment. You've even guided me a little and held my hand at times when things were bad. But you've been paid for it!"

"So?"

"Just give me the truth. For God's sake, Dell, stop playing games with me. Who is my enemy?"

"Perhaps yourself." His tone was cold and she realized she had hurt him. "I thank you for reminding me that our association was a business one."

"Was?" She felt a sudden panic as he made no answer. "Are you saying that you don't want to handle me any longer? Dell, if I've upset you I apologize, but I'm fighting for my life. Help me! Please help me!" She saw him waver, and with sudden insight said, "Don't give me a name but just drink your wine if you think I could be right. Yunus?"

She sat watching as he left the table, oblivious of the stares of those who wondered at his departure, thinking only of the sip of wine he had taken before he'd left. So that was it. Barred because of a jealous lover-and one who owned her debt. Had he also shut her from the apartment?

The thought spurred her to her feet and out of the restaurant into the wide, glistening passages outside where small vehicles waited for custom. She rapped her address as she slipped into one, leaning back in the open compartment as the driver sent the cab on its way with a hum from its engine.

Yunus?

She knew he could be vicious but how far would he go? Had he bribed Dell Chuba to take her to dinner just to get her out of the way? And to think she had apologized to the agent! Well, once let her get back in demand and she would see that he suffered for this. And Yunus! Somehow she must find a way to compensate herself for his possessive arrogance.

The cab dropped her, the driver reminding her sharply of the need to pay, and she almost ran into the foyer of the sector containing her apartment. Long before she reached her door she knew what she would find.

"Ellain, my dear!" Yunus was smoothly polite. "I regret not having informed you of my intention to visit but I am not wholly to blame. Have you met Captain Hannon of the Guard? You may have seen some of his men on duty outside. Captain, meet Ellain Kiran of whom you may have heard."

He bowed, formal in his courtesy. "A distressing incident, my lady, but one I am sure can be quickly settled. My main concern is the matter of security. If there is a weakness it must be found and eliminated. Your help in the matter would be most appreciated." He saw her expression of bewilderment. "I am sorry. I was not aware that you lack knowledge of the situation. The facts are-"

"I will explain, Captain." Yunus, smiling, turned toward her. "It is a matter of theft. Certain items were offered to a jeweler for sale and he, in good faith, purchased them. Later, however, he grew concerned as to their rightful ownership and having recognized them as having originally been purchased by me communicated his doubts to the Guard. Captain Hannon is working on the possibility of a thief having broken into this sector." He added, dryly, "Perhaps with the aid of an accomplice."

"The maid, naturally, was immediately suspected," said Hannon. "She has been questioned and cleared. All that remains now is-"

"For you to go home," said Ellain, flatly. "Or back to your office. There has been no theft and no breach of security. The articles were not stolen. They belonged to me. I gave them to a friend."

"To dispose of? I understand." The captain nodded then pursed his lips. "Are there witnessess to the transaction? No? A pity. Is the person available for questioning? Not that your word is doubted, of course, but simply as a matter of routine. I am sure you understand."

"Captain Hannon is pointing out that, quite often, a woman will lie to protect her lover," said Yunus. "But I think there is no need to press the point at this time."

"There is a matter of identification," said Hannon. "I would like a complete list of all items given by you to your friend."

"Perhaps later," snapped Yunus before Ellain could speak. "Captain, you have concluded your duties here. If needed again you will be summoned. That will be all."

He was of the Cinque. Hannon bowed and withdrew.

"A dog," said Ellain as the door closed after him. "Too eager to fawn and lick your hand."

"But a dog with teeth," reminded Yunus. "Had I wished, you would now be incarcerated in a cell."

"For what? Giving away my own property?"

He said, blandly, "Certain items are missing from the furnishings of this apartment which, as you must admit, is mine. A small figure of a wrestler made of glazed ceramic set with a profusion of minute gems. A cameo of ebony and alabaster. A vase of elegant workmanship and set with precious metals. A plaque of-" He broke off, smiling at her expression. "Need I continue?"

His own property taken by himself but, if he reported the items stolen, who would believe her innocence?

She said, bleakly, "Wasn't it enough to ruin my career? Must I be accused of theft as well? Just what do you want of me, Yunus? Isn't my debt enough?"

"Your debt! Ellain, my dear, thank you for reminding me. You must have forgotten that you have paid no interest for the past two months. In a few days it will be due again and you know the law on these matters. I would hate to have to take action against you to ensure payment."

"Then sell my debt!"

"To whom? Some young fool like Chole Khalil who would prove his idiocy by canceling it and setting you free? Is that what you'd like?" His face darkened with mounting anger. "No, you bitch! I'll see you rot first! You chose to act the harlot and you'll pay. Dumarest! That scum from the arena! Penniless filth!"

"But a man!" In ruin she found courage. "More of a man than you could ever be. You pampered degenerate! Would you have the guts to fight? To gamble your life? You depraved swine! What-" Her voice rose to a scream as he stepped toward her, one hand lifted to strike. "Hit me, you coward! Hit a woman and prove you are a man! But would you go out and hunt for me? For anyone?"

"Hunt?" The raised hand trembled then lowered as, incredibly, he smiled. "Of course. The gifts you gave Dumarest- not rewards for the pleasure he gave you as I'd thought but a stake. Money to buy equipment." The smile turned into a laugh of genuine amusement. "An amateur! Out in the desert at a time tike this! Ellain, my dear, soon you will need to sing a dirge."

For a moment she stared at him then, running to the window, rasped back the cover. The reason for his amusement was obvious. Outside the sky was darkened, the desert hidden by a raging mass of windblown sand.