But their lift into space was a very short
one—perhaps it only cleared the division between courtyard
and street. They descended gently, the wheels touched pavement, and
the flitter proceeded as a ground car. Which meant that their
destination was somewhere within the business sector of the city
and not one of the outlying villas. A warehouse—an office? It
would have to be where the entrance of a blindfolded, bound man,
accompanied by at least one guard, would not attract attention. If
this was night, a goal in the business district or among the
warehouses would meet those requirements.
Troy tried to remember the geography of Tikil in relation to
Kyger’s but found that a hopeless task. Unless he was on his
feet in the open, his eyes unbandaged, he could not even
effectively retrace his way to the Dipple.
They turned once, twice, their speed a decorous one well within
the limit. And undoubtedly they were taking every precaution
against any irregularity of action or appearance that could awaken
suspicion in a patroller’s mind. The Guild were skilled
workmen and this was a Guild protection project, which meant that
Troy might well be on his way to some hidden headquarters of that
power. Only he did not believe so. It was more likely he was being
taken to face, or at least be inspected by, Zul’s new
employer.
Another turn. Neither man in the driver’s seat spoke. Troy
deduced by the volume of street noise that the hour must be one of
late evening. They had joined homeward-bound traffic, which meant
they were not heading toward the warehouses.
The flitter came to a stop. Troy, with his heightened sense of
smell and hearing, knew that one of the men had leaned across the
partition and was hanging head and shoulders above him.
“Listen, you.” The words were bitten off dryly, and
Troy knew that the speaker meant them. “You are going to get
out and walk, Dippleman. And you are going to do it nice and easy
without any noise or confusion. I’ll have a nerve-block grip
on you all the way. Make any trouble and you will still
walk—but not nice and easy. You will sweat blood with every
step. Understand?”
Troy nodded his head violently, hoping that the other could see
that gesture. He had not the slightest desire to suffer the
promised correction for the fault of causing his captor any
trouble.
The other assisted him out of the flitter and kept a tight
fingerhold on him. They walked, as his guard had promised,
“nice and easy” across a strip of pavement.
Troy sniffed vegetation. They must be in a dwelling-house
district. There was a slight pause, probably waiting for the
householder to release a door-panel lock. Then their slow march
started once again, the click of boot heels deadened by foam-set
floor covering.
Troy’s head jerked suddenly. Just as he had known they had
returned him to Kyger’s storeroom, so did he now guess where
he stood. There could not be two such establishments in Tikil! But
knowledge brought with it complete bewilderment—almost
shock.
What did the clerk Dragur, living in the midst of a collection
of marine horrors, have to do with Kyger’s secret
employment?
On the other hand—Troy’s thoughts readjusted
quickly—the colorless man’s chosen hobby was an
excellent cover for a connection between him and the shop, a
connection above suspicion, since Dragur’s enthusiasm
concerning his pet monsters in their globes and aquariums had not
been feigned; Troy would swear to that. His only objection to this
new revelation was the character of the man himself. He simply
could not visualize Dragur as the mastermind behind anything but
fussy details of Korwarian bureaucracy.
Troy’s ears caught the faint plop-plop of water slapping
in a bowl as some inhabitant of the marine zoo moved, and he tried
to remember how the room had been laid out at the time of his first
visit there.
“Here is your man, Citizen, safe and in one piece.”
That was his guard reporting.
“Most commendable,” Dragur’s slightly
high-pitched voice replied. “But I understand that the
shipment is not complete. We were to have a complete shipment,
Guildsman, complete.”
“You shall have to ask this one what he did with the
others, Citizen. The Big Man will settle with you on the deal. Give
me the delivery release.”
“Your Big Man shall also make an adjustment on the
fee,” Dragur snapped. “I bargained for a complete
shipment. No release until that matter is settled.”
“The Big Man will not feel kindly about that,
Citizen.” This was no threat, just a statement of fact, a
fact to be accepted when the Guild made it clear.
“Oh, he will not? Well, I share his disappointment!”
Dragur actually giggled. “You may tell him that as soon as
you wish.”
“No release, no delivery.” The grip on Troy
tightened.
“And you think you may march out of here, taking him with
you?”
There was a long moment of silence. Troy tried to imagine what
might be happening that he could not see.
“Where did you get that?” his guard asked
slowly.
“I do not ask questions about the source of your
equipment, do I?” countered Dragur. “Now you will
remove your hands from my shipment and you will withdraw to your
flitter. You have my permission, however, to communicate with your
Big Man if you wish. I do not know whether he suffers bungling with
patience or not. His reaction to your report you are better able to
gauge than I. But you may mention to him, as a mitigating point,
that a profitable relationship between ourselves may not be at an
end, providing, of course, that we come to an equitable agreement
now. I will also indicate that I have contracted for a time
guardianship with your organization and that still has several
hours to run. I am not in any way breaking contract.”
The hand fell away from Troy. With the grunt of a baffled man
who had been outmaneuvered, the guard moved from his side, and a
moment later a door panel opened and closed. Troy heard Dragur
laugh again.
“He will beam in his Big Man as soon as he thinks matters
over. Better get a rating now than a burn later for not
reporting.”
“The Guildsmen like their credits.” Zul spoke for
the first time.
“But of course, do not all of us? On the other hand their
continuing in business—at least the continuance of this
particular branch of their business—depends also on a certain
integrity. If they promise a shipment in full and deliver only
part, then they have broken contract and must take the
consequences. But that is a matter to be taken under advisement
later. Now, Zul, let us make our visitor more
comfortable.”
Fingers pulled at the cords about Troy’s wrists. His arms
fell to his sides and then he rubbed his hands together. Another
tug and the blindfold was a loop about his throat. He was blinking,
dazzled by the light, subdued as it was, in the room.
“A most energetic young man—”
Troy centered his attention on the speaker. Dragur sat there in
a most unusual chair. A tall glass slab formed the back, and in it
swam with oily ease one of the miniature nightmare monsters, coming
to the fore now and then as if peering over its master’s
shoulder, or to whisper through the transparent pane into his ear.
Similar aquariums on either side, one holding carnivorous dorch
crabs and the other a tramjan reef snake, served as armrests. The
lid of the crab container was up, and from time to time Dragur
tossed in small wriggling creatures to satisfy his pets’
hunger. As an arrangement designed to make the onlooker both queasy
and disinclined to argue with its owner, it was extremely
successful.
But across Dragur’s sharp-boned knees there also rested a
nerve needler. And, seeing that, Troy could well understand the
quick and almost fearful withdrawal of the Guildsman.
“You must be tired,” Dragur continued in his high,
fussy voice. “So much traveling and most of it under what
might be termed uncomfortable conditions. Zul, provide Horan with a
seat. There is no need for you to be uncomfortable here. No—I
believe in comfort. Ehh—that is it, my pretty! Jump!”
He was dangling a tidbit over the crab cage. “Did you note
that, my boy? Such energy, such spirit! One could not believe that
a crab could actually leap, now, could one? I have discovered that
many things will cause a crab, or an animal, or a man, to exert
himself far past the powers one believes that nature endows him
with at birth. Many things—”
“Such as a needler?”
Zul had brought a chair, not one furnished with attendant
monster cages, Troy was pleased to note, and he sat down.
“A most crude stimulant to endeavor, only to be used in
special cases and under special conditions. No, the action obtained
under threat of punishment or death cannot be depended upon for any
length of time. Just as torture is an expedient to be tried only by
the unimaginative. A man will admit anything to save himself from
pain when his breaking point has been found. Needlers have their
places. I prefer more attractive methods.”
“Such as?” Troy tried not to watch a second
exhibition of profitable greed in the crab cage.
“Such as—” But whatever Dragur was about to
say was silenced by a low buzz.
Zul, blaster in hand, sped across the room and vanished through
an inner door. Dragur raised the needler so that the spray barrel
sighted on Troy.
“Perhaps I am wrong,” he said in a voice that was
this time neither high nor fussy. “This may be an occasion
for the cruder settlement after all. Sit where you are, Horan. The
slightest move will compel me to press the trigger on this, and I
think you know the results of such an action. I will also be
compelled to do the same at any vocal warning from your direction.
If we do have an unfriendly visitor on the way, he will encounter
some surprises.” With his other hand Dragur snapped down the
lid of the crab cage, and in the quiet only the noises of the
aquarium dwellers could be heard.
Then there was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a thud.
Dragur, Troy noted, did not turn his head in that direction; his
full attention was still fixed on his prisoner.
“An intruder indeed.” The agent’s voice was
now hardly more than a whisper. “And I believe that he has
fallen into one of our amusing little traps. We shall soon
know.”
They did. Zul led the small procession. Behind him stumbled a
man who wove about on rubbery legs, the normal gait of one who has
taken a half jolt from a stunner in the motor nerves. And holding
him erect and on course was the same Guildsman who had explored the
flitter when Troy had been a captive to the pinner beam in the
Wild. But it was the identity of the prisoner that startled Troy.
Rerne!
Just as he had not expected to find the ranger in his trap in
the cavern of the Ruhkarv, so he had not foreseen his arrival not
only in Tikil but in this particular house.
Dragur surveyed the new captive.
“Greetings to the noble Hunter.” He used the
exaggerated phrase demanded by formal society with a sardonic
inflection. “Not that I quite understand why one of the Clans
should be moved to enter my modest home by the rear entrance and
that without invitation from me. Zul, a chair for our new guest,
please. We are becoming quite crowded here, are we not? So
you—” He watched the Guildsman slide Rerne onto the
seat of the chair Zul drew forward. “You might as well
retire, guard. Be sure I shall inform your Big Man of your alert
and most appreciated services. I trust, Hunter Rerne,” he
said to the new captive, “your head is sufficiently clear for
you to note and be duly apprehensive of this importation of
mine.” The needler lifted a fraction of an inch and then went
back into a new position, one that would share its deadly and
agonizing spray between his prisoners.
“These interruptions quite put one off.” Dragur
shook his head. “We were in the midst of a most serious
conversation, Hunter.”
“Then I ask pardon for the disturbance.” Again the
formal words. Save for his loss of control over his muscles, it
would appear that Rerne had not been stun-beamed to the point where
he suffered too much.
“Most gracious of you, noble Hunter. Time presses or we
could resume our conference later and in more privacy, Horan. But
you have no ties with the Clans. Or have you? This sudden and
unheralded arrival of the noble Hunter is provocative.”
His head slightly tilted, Dragur looked speculatively from Troy to
Rerne and back again.
The ranger turned a countenance of blank courtesy to his captor
as he replied, “Your men left a trail that was easy enough to
follow, Citizen. When a trace of that sort leads from the Wild to
Tikil, we are interested.”
“Interested!” Dragur repeated that word as if he
would wring more than one fine shade of meaning from it. His
attention returned to Troy, and the latter had his own reply ready.
He did not know why Rerne had followed him here, but he was not
going to be drawn into any business of the Clans.
“I have no ties with the Wild.” And the emphasis he
put on the statement made it sound unduly harsh in that crowded
room.
“And I shall accept that assurance, Horan. It is easy to
believe that you do not have much sympathy for any authority on
Korwar.”
“And I am not a Guildsman.”
“Have I suggested such a thing?” Dragur demanded.
“I merely comment upon certain unpleasant facts of life. You
surely cannot nurse any fondness for the Dipple, nor accordingly
for the laws that have confined you there. On the other
hand”—his fingers moved to one of the seam pockets of
his tunic, came out to display a white card—“this is
your permission to leave this world.”
“Going where?”
“Norden.”
The answer was so unexpected that Troy was as shocked as if he
had met a needler face on. Then caution, learned painfully through
the years, took cool control of his brain again. He hoped he had
given no outward sign of his shock and surprise, knowing that
Dragur was perhaps the most dangerous man he had ever
faced—not because of the outlawed off-world weapon he now
held across his knees, but because he did not really have to use
it. The agent was right; there were other ways to bend a man to his
will, and he had just produced an effective one to level Troy
Horan.
“Why?” Troy came out with the question flatly.
“Let us say that I have—”
“A tidbit for a crab to jump for?” Troy countered.
He was afraid, afraid with a different sort of chill than that
which had seeped along his backbone when he had faced the
needler.
“A tidbit, just so. Norden is now under the jurisdiction
of the Confederation. The Horan holding there was, I believe, the
Valley of the Forest Range—a good-sized range—a very
fruitful one. There was the stockade of the Home Place, and five
out-towers, a fruit setting, and an excellent stand of skin-wood in
the heights. Quite a pleasant little kingdom of your own, Range
Master Horan, was it not? Your family and their riders must have
been practically self-sufficient. Such a pity—less than a
century to grow and all swept away by the arbitrary orders of one
man with his mind on a war that did not even come near that planet.
Commander Di was impulsive, a little too firm a believer in his own
edicts.
“I fear you will have to do some reorganizing and start
from the beginning along some lines. The tupan have run wild. But a
roundup should bring them under brand control again. And you will
be permitted to recruit your own riders, as well as be given all
possible assitance from Confederation officers.”
“Promising quite a lot, are you not, Citizen?” Troy
kept as tight a control over his emotions as he could. Every one of
Dragur’s words had been a whip laid on sensitive skin. He
dared not believe that there was a fraction of truth in the offer,
dared not for the sake of his own equilibrium of heart and
mind.
“I am promising nothing that I cannot deliver, Range
Master Horan.” And in that moment Troy was forced to believe
him.
“Korwar is a Council planet.” Troy hedged, tried to
test his assurance from another angle.
“Which again means nothing—to me.” And once
more his tone and the will behind it carried conviction.
“And in return for Norden what do you ask?”
“A small task successfully performed—by you, Range
Master. It seems by some quirk of fate you alone now on this world
are able to communicate with some runaway servants of mine. I want
them back, and you can get them for me.”
That was it: produce the animals—and get Norden. Norden
and everything his father had held ten years ago! Simple and deadly
as that.
“They must be very special, these servants of
yours,” Rerne cut in.
“Indeed, noble Hunter, as you already know. Their breeding
is the result of many years of research and experimentation. They
are the only ones of their species—”
“On Korwar.” Rerne’s words were not a
question, but a statement that carried both force and meaning. Troy
caught the inference. Yes, the five he had left in the Wild might
be the only ones of their species on Korwar. And yet in other
places, other solar systems, similar tools were being employed by
Confederation agents.
Dragur shifted slightly in the weird chair. “What happens
on other planets is none of my concern, noble Hunter, nor the
Clans’. In fact I will assure you that once my servants are
returned to me, there shall be no cause to fear any more activity
of this type on Korwar. The experiment, due to the human element
here, has been a failure. We shall admit defeat and
withdraw.”
And that, too, Troy believed.
“And the animals themselves?”
“Are now expendable. I do not think that you will hesitate
for a moment to weigh the lives of five animals against your return
to Norden, will you, Range Master?”
Troy’s tongue tip wet his dry lips. He had to use all his
willpower to fight shivers running along arms and legs.
“You cannot be sure I can bring them in.”
“No, but you are the only contact with them. And I think
my crab will jump with all his energy for this tidbit, do you not
agree?”
“Yes!” Troy’s answer came in a harsh explosion
of breath. “Yes, I do!” He saw, from the corner of his
eye, Rerne’s head turn in his direction, a flash of surprise
deepen to bleak distaste on the ranger’s face. But
Rerne’s opinion of him could not matter now. He must keep
thinking of the future. Dragur was so right; this crab was willing
to jump—very high!
“So!” The agent spoke to Rerne now. “You see
how simply matters can be arranged. There is no need for Clan
interference—or their hope to have a hand in this. I take it,
Range Master, that the animals still are in the Wild?”
“They left the flitter for the woods just before your men
slapped that pinner on me.”
“How easy to understand once one knows the facts. Very
well, we need have no worries now. You, noble Hunter, shall be our
passport to the Wild. A happy chance brought you here in time. One
might almost begin to believe in the ancient superstitions
regarding a personified form of Fate that could favor or strike
adversely at a man. We shall be a hunting party, just Zul and I,
you, noble Hunter, Range Master Horan, and my Guildsman. And if all
goes well, we shall have this matter decided before nightfall
tomorrow. I am sure we are all sensible men here and there will be
no trouble.” He raised the needler.
Troy was not sure Rerne noted that warning gesture. When the
ranger replied, his voice was remote. “There is no argument,
Citizen. I am at your service.”
“But, of course, noble Hunter, did I not say you would be?
And now we shall go.”
But their lift into space was a very short
one—perhaps it only cleared the division between courtyard
and street. They descended gently, the wheels touched pavement, and
the flitter proceeded as a ground car. Which meant that their
destination was somewhere within the business sector of the city
and not one of the outlying villas. A warehouse—an office? It
would have to be where the entrance of a blindfolded, bound man,
accompanied by at least one guard, would not attract attention. If
this was night, a goal in the business district or among the
warehouses would meet those requirements.
Troy tried to remember the geography of Tikil in relation to
Kyger’s but found that a hopeless task. Unless he was on his
feet in the open, his eyes unbandaged, he could not even
effectively retrace his way to the Dipple.
They turned once, twice, their speed a decorous one well within
the limit. And undoubtedly they were taking every precaution
against any irregularity of action or appearance that could awaken
suspicion in a patroller’s mind. The Guild were skilled
workmen and this was a Guild protection project, which meant that
Troy might well be on his way to some hidden headquarters of that
power. Only he did not believe so. It was more likely he was being
taken to face, or at least be inspected by, Zul’s new
employer.
Another turn. Neither man in the driver’s seat spoke. Troy
deduced by the volume of street noise that the hour must be one of
late evening. They had joined homeward-bound traffic, which meant
they were not heading toward the warehouses.
The flitter came to a stop. Troy, with his heightened sense of
smell and hearing, knew that one of the men had leaned across the
partition and was hanging head and shoulders above him.
“Listen, you.” The words were bitten off dryly, and
Troy knew that the speaker meant them. “You are going to get
out and walk, Dippleman. And you are going to do it nice and easy
without any noise or confusion. I’ll have a nerve-block grip
on you all the way. Make any trouble and you will still
walk—but not nice and easy. You will sweat blood with every
step. Understand?”
Troy nodded his head violently, hoping that the other could see
that gesture. He had not the slightest desire to suffer the
promised correction for the fault of causing his captor any
trouble.
The other assisted him out of the flitter and kept a tight
fingerhold on him. They walked, as his guard had promised,
“nice and easy” across a strip of pavement.
Troy sniffed vegetation. They must be in a dwelling-house
district. There was a slight pause, probably waiting for the
householder to release a door-panel lock. Then their slow march
started once again, the click of boot heels deadened by foam-set
floor covering.
Troy’s head jerked suddenly. Just as he had known they had
returned him to Kyger’s storeroom, so did he now guess where
he stood. There could not be two such establishments in Tikil! But
knowledge brought with it complete bewilderment—almost
shock.
What did the clerk Dragur, living in the midst of a collection
of marine horrors, have to do with Kyger’s secret
employment?
On the other hand—Troy’s thoughts readjusted
quickly—the colorless man’s chosen hobby was an
excellent cover for a connection between him and the shop, a
connection above suspicion, since Dragur’s enthusiasm
concerning his pet monsters in their globes and aquariums had not
been feigned; Troy would swear to that. His only objection to this
new revelation was the character of the man himself. He simply
could not visualize Dragur as the mastermind behind anything but
fussy details of Korwarian bureaucracy.
Troy’s ears caught the faint plop-plop of water slapping
in a bowl as some inhabitant of the marine zoo moved, and he tried
to remember how the room had been laid out at the time of his first
visit there.
“Here is your man, Citizen, safe and in one piece.”
That was his guard reporting.
“Most commendable,” Dragur’s slightly
high-pitched voice replied. “But I understand that the
shipment is not complete. We were to have a complete shipment,
Guildsman, complete.”
“You shall have to ask this one what he did with the
others, Citizen. The Big Man will settle with you on the deal. Give
me the delivery release.”
“Your Big Man shall also make an adjustment on the
fee,” Dragur snapped. “I bargained for a complete
shipment. No release until that matter is settled.”
“The Big Man will not feel kindly about that,
Citizen.” This was no threat, just a statement of fact, a
fact to be accepted when the Guild made it clear.
“Oh, he will not? Well, I share his disappointment!”
Dragur actually giggled. “You may tell him that as soon as
you wish.”
“No release, no delivery.” The grip on Troy
tightened.
“And you think you may march out of here, taking him with
you?”
There was a long moment of silence. Troy tried to imagine what
might be happening that he could not see.
“Where did you get that?” his guard asked
slowly.
“I do not ask questions about the source of your
equipment, do I?” countered Dragur. “Now you will
remove your hands from my shipment and you will withdraw to your
flitter. You have my permission, however, to communicate with your
Big Man if you wish. I do not know whether he suffers bungling with
patience or not. His reaction to your report you are better able to
gauge than I. But you may mention to him, as a mitigating point,
that a profitable relationship between ourselves may not be at an
end, providing, of course, that we come to an equitable agreement
now. I will also indicate that I have contracted for a time
guardianship with your organization and that still has several
hours to run. I am not in any way breaking contract.”
The hand fell away from Troy. With the grunt of a baffled man
who had been outmaneuvered, the guard moved from his side, and a
moment later a door panel opened and closed. Troy heard Dragur
laugh again.
“He will beam in his Big Man as soon as he thinks matters
over. Better get a rating now than a burn later for not
reporting.”
“The Guildsmen like their credits.” Zul spoke for
the first time.
“But of course, do not all of us? On the other hand their
continuing in business—at least the continuance of this
particular branch of their business—depends also on a certain
integrity. If they promise a shipment in full and deliver only
part, then they have broken contract and must take the
consequences. But that is a matter to be taken under advisement
later. Now, Zul, let us make our visitor more
comfortable.”
Fingers pulled at the cords about Troy’s wrists. His arms
fell to his sides and then he rubbed his hands together. Another
tug and the blindfold was a loop about his throat. He was blinking,
dazzled by the light, subdued as it was, in the room.
“A most energetic young man—”
Troy centered his attention on the speaker. Dragur sat there in
a most unusual chair. A tall glass slab formed the back, and in it
swam with oily ease one of the miniature nightmare monsters, coming
to the fore now and then as if peering over its master’s
shoulder, or to whisper through the transparent pane into his ear.
Similar aquariums on either side, one holding carnivorous dorch
crabs and the other a tramjan reef snake, served as armrests. The
lid of the crab container was up, and from time to time Dragur
tossed in small wriggling creatures to satisfy his pets’
hunger. As an arrangement designed to make the onlooker both queasy
and disinclined to argue with its owner, it was extremely
successful.
But across Dragur’s sharp-boned knees there also rested a
nerve needler. And, seeing that, Troy could well understand the
quick and almost fearful withdrawal of the Guildsman.
“You must be tired,” Dragur continued in his high,
fussy voice. “So much traveling and most of it under what
might be termed uncomfortable conditions. Zul, provide Horan with a
seat. There is no need for you to be uncomfortable here. No—I
believe in comfort. Ehh—that is it, my pretty! Jump!”
He was dangling a tidbit over the crab cage. “Did you note
that, my boy? Such energy, such spirit! One could not believe that
a crab could actually leap, now, could one? I have discovered that
many things will cause a crab, or an animal, or a man, to exert
himself far past the powers one believes that nature endows him
with at birth. Many things—”
“Such as a needler?”
Zul had brought a chair, not one furnished with attendant
monster cages, Troy was pleased to note, and he sat down.
“A most crude stimulant to endeavor, only to be used in
special cases and under special conditions. No, the action obtained
under threat of punishment or death cannot be depended upon for any
length of time. Just as torture is an expedient to be tried only by
the unimaginative. A man will admit anything to save himself from
pain when his breaking point has been found. Needlers have their
places. I prefer more attractive methods.”
“Such as?” Troy tried not to watch a second
exhibition of profitable greed in the crab cage.
“Such as—” But whatever Dragur was about to
say was silenced by a low buzz.
Zul, blaster in hand, sped across the room and vanished through
an inner door. Dragur raised the needler so that the spray barrel
sighted on Troy.
“Perhaps I am wrong,” he said in a voice that was
this time neither high nor fussy. “This may be an occasion
for the cruder settlement after all. Sit where you are, Horan. The
slightest move will compel me to press the trigger on this, and I
think you know the results of such an action. I will also be
compelled to do the same at any vocal warning from your direction.
If we do have an unfriendly visitor on the way, he will encounter
some surprises.” With his other hand Dragur snapped down the
lid of the crab cage, and in the quiet only the noises of the
aquarium dwellers could be heard.
Then there was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a thud.
Dragur, Troy noted, did not turn his head in that direction; his
full attention was still fixed on his prisoner.
“An intruder indeed.” The agent’s voice was
now hardly more than a whisper. “And I believe that he has
fallen into one of our amusing little traps. We shall soon
know.”
They did. Zul led the small procession. Behind him stumbled a
man who wove about on rubbery legs, the normal gait of one who has
taken a half jolt from a stunner in the motor nerves. And holding
him erect and on course was the same Guildsman who had explored the
flitter when Troy had been a captive to the pinner beam in the
Wild. But it was the identity of the prisoner that startled Troy.
Rerne!
Just as he had not expected to find the ranger in his trap in
the cavern of the Ruhkarv, so he had not foreseen his arrival not
only in Tikil but in this particular house.
Dragur surveyed the new captive.
“Greetings to the noble Hunter.” He used the
exaggerated phrase demanded by formal society with a sardonic
inflection. “Not that I quite understand why one of the Clans
should be moved to enter my modest home by the rear entrance and
that without invitation from me. Zul, a chair for our new guest,
please. We are becoming quite crowded here, are we not? So
you—” He watched the Guildsman slide Rerne onto the
seat of the chair Zul drew forward. “You might as well
retire, guard. Be sure I shall inform your Big Man of your alert
and most appreciated services. I trust, Hunter Rerne,” he
said to the new captive, “your head is sufficiently clear for
you to note and be duly apprehensive of this importation of
mine.” The needler lifted a fraction of an inch and then went
back into a new position, one that would share its deadly and
agonizing spray between his prisoners.
“These interruptions quite put one off.” Dragur
shook his head. “We were in the midst of a most serious
conversation, Hunter.”
“Then I ask pardon for the disturbance.” Again the
formal words. Save for his loss of control over his muscles, it
would appear that Rerne had not been stun-beamed to the point where
he suffered too much.
“Most gracious of you, noble Hunter. Time presses or we
could resume our conference later and in more privacy, Horan. But
you have no ties with the Clans. Or have you? This sudden and
unheralded arrival of the noble Hunter is provocative.”
His head slightly tilted, Dragur looked speculatively from Troy to
Rerne and back again.
The ranger turned a countenance of blank courtesy to his captor
as he replied, “Your men left a trail that was easy enough to
follow, Citizen. When a trace of that sort leads from the Wild to
Tikil, we are interested.”
“Interested!” Dragur repeated that word as if he
would wring more than one fine shade of meaning from it. His
attention returned to Troy, and the latter had his own reply ready.
He did not know why Rerne had followed him here, but he was not
going to be drawn into any business of the Clans.
“I have no ties with the Wild.” And the emphasis he
put on the statement made it sound unduly harsh in that crowded
room.
“And I shall accept that assurance, Horan. It is easy to
believe that you do not have much sympathy for any authority on
Korwar.”
“And I am not a Guildsman.”
“Have I suggested such a thing?” Dragur demanded.
“I merely comment upon certain unpleasant facts of life. You
surely cannot nurse any fondness for the Dipple, nor accordingly
for the laws that have confined you there. On the other
hand”—his fingers moved to one of the seam pockets of
his tunic, came out to display a white card—“this is
your permission to leave this world.”
“Going where?”
“Norden.”
The answer was so unexpected that Troy was as shocked as if he
had met a needler face on. Then caution, learned painfully through
the years, took cool control of his brain again. He hoped he had
given no outward sign of his shock and surprise, knowing that
Dragur was perhaps the most dangerous man he had ever
faced—not because of the outlawed off-world weapon he now
held across his knees, but because he did not really have to use
it. The agent was right; there were other ways to bend a man to his
will, and he had just produced an effective one to level Troy
Horan.
“Why?” Troy came out with the question flatly.
“Let us say that I have—”
“A tidbit for a crab to jump for?” Troy countered.
He was afraid, afraid with a different sort of chill than that
which had seeped along his backbone when he had faced the
needler.
“A tidbit, just so. Norden is now under the jurisdiction
of the Confederation. The Horan holding there was, I believe, the
Valley of the Forest Range—a good-sized range—a very
fruitful one. There was the stockade of the Home Place, and five
out-towers, a fruit setting, and an excellent stand of skin-wood in
the heights. Quite a pleasant little kingdom of your own, Range
Master Horan, was it not? Your family and their riders must have
been practically self-sufficient. Such a pity—less than a
century to grow and all swept away by the arbitrary orders of one
man with his mind on a war that did not even come near that planet.
Commander Di was impulsive, a little too firm a believer in his own
edicts.
“I fear you will have to do some reorganizing and start
from the beginning along some lines. The tupan have run wild. But a
roundup should bring them under brand control again. And you will
be permitted to recruit your own riders, as well as be given all
possible assitance from Confederation officers.”
“Promising quite a lot, are you not, Citizen?” Troy
kept as tight a control over his emotions as he could. Every one of
Dragur’s words had been a whip laid on sensitive skin. He
dared not believe that there was a fraction of truth in the offer,
dared not for the sake of his own equilibrium of heart and
mind.
“I am promising nothing that I cannot deliver, Range
Master Horan.” And in that moment Troy was forced to believe
him.
“Korwar is a Council planet.” Troy hedged, tried to
test his assurance from another angle.
“Which again means nothing—to me.” And once
more his tone and the will behind it carried conviction.
“And in return for Norden what do you ask?”
“A small task successfully performed—by you, Range
Master. It seems by some quirk of fate you alone now on this world
are able to communicate with some runaway servants of mine. I want
them back, and you can get them for me.”
That was it: produce the animals—and get Norden. Norden
and everything his father had held ten years ago! Simple and deadly
as that.
“They must be very special, these servants of
yours,” Rerne cut in.
“Indeed, noble Hunter, as you already know. Their breeding
is the result of many years of research and experimentation. They
are the only ones of their species—”
“On Korwar.” Rerne’s words were not a
question, but a statement that carried both force and meaning. Troy
caught the inference. Yes, the five he had left in the Wild might
be the only ones of their species on Korwar. And yet in other
places, other solar systems, similar tools were being employed by
Confederation agents.
Dragur shifted slightly in the weird chair. “What happens
on other planets is none of my concern, noble Hunter, nor the
Clans’. In fact I will assure you that once my servants are
returned to me, there shall be no cause to fear any more activity
of this type on Korwar. The experiment, due to the human element
here, has been a failure. We shall admit defeat and
withdraw.”
And that, too, Troy believed.
“And the animals themselves?”
“Are now expendable. I do not think that you will hesitate
for a moment to weigh the lives of five animals against your return
to Norden, will you, Range Master?”
Troy’s tongue tip wet his dry lips. He had to use all his
willpower to fight shivers running along arms and legs.
“You cannot be sure I can bring them in.”
“No, but you are the only contact with them. And I think
my crab will jump with all his energy for this tidbit, do you not
agree?”
“Yes!” Troy’s answer came in a harsh explosion
of breath. “Yes, I do!” He saw, from the corner of his
eye, Rerne’s head turn in his direction, a flash of surprise
deepen to bleak distaste on the ranger’s face. But
Rerne’s opinion of him could not matter now. He must keep
thinking of the future. Dragur was so right; this crab was willing
to jump—very high!
“So!” The agent spoke to Rerne now. “You see
how simply matters can be arranged. There is no need for Clan
interference—or their hope to have a hand in this. I take it,
Range Master, that the animals still are in the Wild?”
“They left the flitter for the woods just before your men
slapped that pinner on me.”
“How easy to understand once one knows the facts. Very
well, we need have no worries now. You, noble Hunter, shall be our
passport to the Wild. A happy chance brought you here in time. One
might almost begin to believe in the ancient superstitions
regarding a personified form of Fate that could favor or strike
adversely at a man. We shall be a hunting party, just Zul and I,
you, noble Hunter, Range Master Horan, and my Guildsman. And if all
goes well, we shall have this matter decided before nightfall
tomorrow. I am sure we are all sensible men here and there will be
no trouble.” He raised the needler.
Troy was not sure Rerne noted that warning gesture. When the
ranger replied, his voice was remote. “There is no argument,
Citizen. I am at your service.”
“But, of course, noble Hunter, did I not say you would be?
And now we shall go.”