The Quillian Sector

"Earl!" Dilys came running as he grounded the raft. "Thank God, you're safe! I saw something fall-I thought it could be you!" She came to him, face wet with tears. "Oh, Earl!"

Egulus said, "The way you moved! The speed! But what happened? The cyber-"

"Is dead, I hope." Bochner thrust the captain to one side and snarled as he saw the limp figure. "Kill him, Earl! Get rid of the cold-blooded bastard!"

"Why?"

"He was after you, wasn't he? Chased you across space from Ealius? Wanted to take you and hold you, right?"

"Right," said Dumarest. "But how did you know?"

"What? I-"

"Never mind." Dumarest stooped and lifted the limp body of the cyber. "Here, take him. Set him down beside the fire. You'd better cover him up with something. You could find blankets in here." He lifted the survival kit and threw it after the hunter.

Bochner looked at it. "Am I a nurse?"

"You're the fittest man here, aren't you? The best? You've wanted to prove it often enough, so prove it now. You can stay behind to look after the cyber. To take care of your friend."

"You're mad." Bochner took a step toward where Dumarest stood beside the raft. "Insane. What the hell do you mean-my friend? Do you think I'm working with Caradoc?"

"Are you?"

"No! And if you want to call me a liar, go ahead!" Bochner crouched, hands spread, an animal poised to spring. "Talk," he said. "It's just talk. You've no proof. I've been expecting something like this. An excuse for you to turn against me. To take the woman for yourself. If the raft hadn't come, you'd have tried to put your knife in my back. Now you want to dump me. Leave me on this peak. Well, I've a better idea. You stay while I take the raft. You act as a nurse to the cyber while-"

He moved even as he spoke, the words serving as a distraction, one which Dumarest had recognized. The hunter snarled, his hands slicing through empty air as Dumarest moved, anticipating the attack. Bochner turned, snatching at the knife he carried in his belt, grunting as Dumarest closed in, hand gripping his wrist, his own blade lifted to catch the sun.

For a long, dragging moment they stood, muscle set against muscle, bodies locked, poised in a composition which held the somber elements of death.

Too late, Bochner recognized the trap into which he had been lured. The weakness Dumarest had admitted, the fatigue, the earlier withdrawals from confrontation-all designed to deceive. Now he had met his match. Now he would die.

It waited in the glimmer of the blade, in the edge, the needle point in the cold stare of the eyes so close to his own. In the bleak ferocity of those eyes which he had never seen before. In the strength against which he was helpless. In the determination which closed the space between the threatening point and his throat.

Closed it until no gap remained.

Pressed until the prick of metal bit into his skin.

"Go ahead," Bochner whispered. "Do it! Do it!"

Death, the supreme hunter, the thing which stalked a man all his life and, no matter how he should turn or twist, hide or run, was always victorious in the end. And what matter when the end came? Now, or in a year, made no difference. A dozen years, even, a score. What was a lifetime against eternity?

"Now," he breathed again. "Now!"

Strike and have done. To the victor, the spoils. To the winner, the loot and the fame and the glory. To the loser, only the restfulness of oblivion.

"No!" Dilys ran forward to catch at Dumarest's arm. "No, Earl! No! He saved your life!"

Once certainly, perhaps even twice. Dumarest felt again the cold rasp of chiton against his cheek and remembered how Threnond had died. Bochner had saved him then-and Caradoc needed a nurse.

"You bastard!" The hunter cried out in his rage as Dumarest shoved him back off balance. Recovering, he touched his throat and looked at the blood on his hand. "You cowardly bastard! You lack the guts to kill me!"

"The Cyclan will do that if you let him die." Dumarest gestured towards Caradoc. "You wanted a challenge? You've got one."

"To keep him alive up here while you take the raft? And then what? To carry him on my back over a thousand miles of wilderness?"

"I'll send back help."

"Maybe." Bochner looked at his hands. They were trembling. To be mocked, and before a woman. To be fooled. To be made to feel stupid-Dumarest should have killed while he had the chance. "All right, Earl. This round goes to you. But I won't forget. Damn you, I won't forget!"

Hyrcanus was small, the town named after the planet, the only town the world contained. The field was a patch of dirt seared and torn and dotted with discarded rubbish. The fence was a ring of scrub delineating the area, but there were ships waiting to leave and cargo needing to be loaded. From the window of his room in the tavern, Dumarest could see it all.

As could Dilys, at his side.

"That's the Shalarius," she said, pointing. "It's bound for Mucianus. And that's the Zloth. It's bound for Egremond."

"And that?"

"A private charter I think. Sealed hull, no contact, handler like a zombie."