Eye of the Zodiac

Dumarest took the slip of pasteboard. Handed in, it would ensure the man his commission.

"You know a good hotel? Something not too high and with available service?"

"Service?" The man twisted his head, grinning. "I get it. Sure, Madam Brandt runs a nice, clean, interesting place. Just don't make too much noise and everything will be fine. You want me to take you there?"

"Just drop us close by. You got a card for me to give her? Thanks."

Leon staggered a little as he left the pedcar, leaning on Dumarest for support as the vehicle moved away, the operator waving and pointing to the front of a house with shuttered windows and gaudy streaks of paint on the walls.

Dumarest watched him go, then turned and headed in the other direction.

"Aren't we going in there, Earl?"

"No."

"But I thought-" Leon frowned. "That man thinks we'll stay there."

"Which is why we won't." Dumarest stared at the pale face. "Can you hold up until we find somewhere else?"

"I guess so." Leon made an effort to stand upright. "I guess I'll have to."

"That's right," said Dumarest. "You do."

He settled for a small place in a quiet street, run by a woman long past her prime. The room had twin beds, a washbasin and faucet, a faded carpet on the floor, frayed curtains at the window. The panes were barred and faced a narrow alley. The walls were cracked and the ceiling stained. From a room lower down the passage came the sound of empty coughing:

"Chell Arlept," she explained. "He worked with my husband up at the site. They got caught in an explosion. Chell ruined his lungs. My husband-" She broke off, swallowing.

"It happens," said Dumarest. "I'm sorry."

"They just left him there," she said bleakly. "Piled dirt over the place where he fell. I didn't even get compensation."

Dumarest said nothing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you, but you did ask about Chell. If there's anything you need?"

"I'll let you know," said Dumarest. "There's a bath at the end of the passage? Good." He looked pointedly at the door. As the woman left he said to the boy. "Get stripped. I want to look at those ribs."

Nygas had been savage, or perhaps he had misjudged his victim. Leon winced as Dumarest's fingers probed his side, the strappings that had been hastily applied lying to one side on the bed. One rib was broken, others cracked, the flesh ugly with bruises.

"How bad is it, Earl?"

"Bad enough." Dumarest picked up the bandages, soaked them in water from the faucet, bound them tightly around the slender torso. "Just lie there and get some sleep. Don't move unless you have to and, when you do, don't bend. Hungry?"

"I could eat."

"I'll get the woman to bring you a meal. If she wants to feed you, don't argue."

"You leaving, Earl?"

Dumarest smiled at the look of concern. "Don't worry, Leon. I'll be back."

* * * * *

Finding the hotel had taken time, taking care of the boy still more. It was dusk as Dumarest neared the heart of the city, the square where the market was located. Beyond it lay the wharves from which boats were already putting out to fish the turbulent seas. Around it, running along the avenues to either side, were the palaces of pleasure, the casinos, dream parlors, brothels, the places in which men could pander to their inclinations. Establishments for the rich, or those with money to burn. The market was for the poor.

Beggars were prominent, men with crippled limbs and scarred faces, discarded veterans of mercenary wars. They jostled women selling dubious pleasures, others offering lucky charms, vials of aphrodisiacs, pods of narcotic seeds. In the market proper, traders displayed their wares on stalls illuminated by brightly colored lanterns which fought the encroaching darkness with pools of red and green, yellow and amber, pale blue and nacreous white.

In the kaleidoscope of brilliance heaps of tawdry jewelry, gaudy fabrics, and cheap adornments looked like rare treasure stolen from fabled temples.

A crone called out as Dumarest passed where she sat before a table brilliant with cabalistic symbols.

"Your fortune, my lord? Told with skills won from an ancient race and passed down through seventeen generations. Learn of the dangers which may lie in your path, perils which can be avoided."

Another swung a small bag suspended from a gilded chain which, she assured him, would give full protection against the diseases of love, poisoned waters, and wild radiation.

A man sat like a brooding idol over an assembly of finger rings holding vibrant darts, needles tipped with venom, artificial fingernails of razor-sharp steel, brooches which could blast a stunning gas; subtle mechanisms for dealing death and pain, things much used by the harlots who needed such protection.

Dumarest paused at a stall from which rose tantalizing odors, buying a skewer of meat and vegetables seared over a flame. The food was hot, pungent with spice, crisp to the tongue. The woman who served him was tall, darkly attractive, the cleft in her blouse doing little to hide the swell of her breasts.