The Pillars of Eternity

Boaz used his gun to wave both men to the rear of the room. The use of the archaism ‘Captain’ in place of ‘shipkeeper’ disconcerted him slightly. He stepped to Mace, taking hold of her face in a thick hand and directing her eyes to him. She stared up without recognition.

He released the clasps on her wrists and waist. ‘Stand up,’ he ordered. When she did not respond he hauled her to her feet. Unsteadily she stayed on her feet, leaning on his shoulder. He backed away, guiding her toward the door, keeping the gun trained on her interrogators.

‘Stop,’ the taller man said.

Boaz’s plan was to leave by the transport cubicle he had seen in the other room. Regretfully he was thinking to himself that he would have to kill these two first. But he halted.

Something in the situation was odd.

Apart from the lack of formal dress, apart from the furtive location, there was the behaviour between the two men. The smaller individual with sandy hair and a snub nose had said nothing and seemed unready to take any initiative, looking to the other as a disciple toward a master.

Boaz recognized that look. It was a feature of many philosophic or occult groups, whose members were apt to fall into what Madrigo had termed thelemic transfer – the surrender of the individual’s personal will to the superiors in the order.

‘I take it you are government?’ he queried.

‘Yes and no. Let me introduce myself. I am Cere Chai Hebron, Director of the Department of Scientific Affairs. My friend here’ – he indicated the other – ‘also works for the government. But today neither of us is acting in an official capacity. We are, to put it bluntly, committing a crime, as you are.’

He smiled, without mirth but in an apparent attempt to win Boaz’s confidence. ‘I think you should listen to me. Without my help you stand little chance of leaving Kathundra alive. You see, it is not simply a matter of illegal possession of alien artifacts. I am sure you have little idea of the alarm with which the government regards your very existence, or of the effort that is being put into tracking you down.’

A bundle of questions arose in Boaz’s mind. In particular he wondered how these people had found Mace. But then it occurred to him that this man Hebron, if that was his real name, could be doing nothing more than feeding him information gained from Mace herself. Perhaps she was the victim of a random kidnapping, snatched to satisfy the festering lusts or warped hobbies of pleasure-sated Kathundrans. The man was evidently trying to delay him, and every extra moment spent here increased his danger.

He started back again. ‘At least let me call Aban Ebarak here to talk to you,’ Hebron said hurriedly.

Again Boaz stopped. That name could not have come from Mace.

‘You know Ebarak?’

‘Indeed. You and I are collaborators, in a way.’

‘What is his number?’

Hebron recited a string of digits, which Boaz matched against the number he held in his adplant. He nodded, but was still suspicious. ‘Come here,’ he said.

Beckoning them into the other room, he dialled. After a short wait Ebarak appeared on the vision plate by the side of the booth which was inset into the wall. Boaz pushed Hebron before it.

‘Do you know this man?’

Guardedly Ebarak nodded. ‘Yes. He’s a Cabal Director.’

‘What can I expect from him?’

Ebarak, reluctant to say anything incriminating over a public service, looked ill-at-ease. ‘You could say he’s on our side,’ he murmured eventually.

‘Then we’re coming through. Stand by.’

‘I was suggesting Aban come here,’ Hebron said diffidently.

‘Get in the booth, both of you.’

Still at gunpoint, they obeyed. After dispatching them Boaz dialled again, pulled Mace in after him, and stepped out with her in Ebarak’s vestibule.

Only the scientist was present. ‘They’ve gone into the lounge,’ he said. ‘You will join us?’

‘They gave Mace a truth drug. Bring her round for me.’

‘Bring her in here.’

He led Boaz into the laboratory and helped him lower Mace into a chair. Disappearing into a storeroom, he returned a few moments later with a hypodermic into which he measured a tiny amount of colourless fluid.

With a faint hiss the drug went into Mace’s blood-stream. ‘She’ll be all right. Don’t suppose he gave her anything to hurt her, anyway.’

‘Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’

Ebarak smiled wryly. ‘Philosophy again. A human preoccupation that seems capable of producing an endless variety of fanatics.’

‘I had guessed it,’ Boaz muttered.