made up the parasitic clusters around the Farben Hill.
“What’s this all about?” Benteley demanded. The car shuddered, as magnetic grapple-beams caught it and lowered it toward the winking buildings below. “We have a right to know something.”
“We’re going to have a little party,” Eleanor said, with a smile that barely moved her thin crimson lips. She allowed the car to settle into a concave lock and come finally to rest against a magnetic disc. With a quick snap she cut the power and threw open the doors. “Get out. We’re here.”
Their heels clattered in the deserted corridor, as Eleanorled them rapidly from one level to the next. A few silent uniformed guards stood at regular intervals, their pudding faces sleepy and impassive, bulging rifles gripped loosely.
Eleanor waved open a double-sealed door and nodded them briskly inside. A billow of fragrant air lapped around them as they pushed uncertainly past her, inside the chamber.
Reese Verrick stood with his back to them. He was fumbling angrily with something, massive arms moving in a slow grind of rage. “How the hell do you work this damn thing?” he bellowed irritably. The protesting shrill of torn metal grated briefly. “Christ, I think I broke it.”
“Here,” Herb Moore said, emerging from a deep low chair in the corner. “You have no manual dexterity.”
“You bet,” Verrick growled. He turned, a huge hunched-over bear, his shaggy brows protruding bone-hard, thick and belligerent. His blazing eyes bored at the three newcomers as they stood uneasily together. Eleanor Stevens unzipped her greatcoat and tossed it over the back of a luxurious couch.
“Here they are,” she said to Verrick. “They were all together, enjoying themselves.” She stalked over, long-legged in her velvet slacks and leather sandals and stood before the fire warming her breasts and shoulders. In the flickering firelight her naked flesh glowed a deep luminous red.
Verrick turned without ceremony to Benteley. “Always be where I can find you.” He bit his words out contemptuously.
“I don’t have any more teeps around to thought-wave people in. I have to find them the hard way.” He jerked his thumb at Eleanor. “She came along, but minus ability.”
Eleanor smiled bleakly and said nothing.
Verrick spun around and shouted at Moore, “Is that damn thing fixed or not?”
“It’s almost ready.”
Verrick grunted sourly. “This is a sort of celebration,” hesaid to Benteley, “although I don’t know what we’ve got to celebrate.”
Moore strolled over, confident and full of talk, a sleek little model of an interplan rocket in his hands. “We’ve got plenty to celebrate. This is the first time a Quizmaster chose an assassin. Pellig isn’t somebody chosen by a bunch of senile old fogies; Verrick has had him on tap and this whole thing worked out since—”
“You talk too much,” Verrick cut in. “You’re too damn full of easy words. Half of them don’t mean a thing.”
Moore laughed gaily. “That’s what the Corps found out.”
Benteley moved uncomfortably away. Verrick was slightly drunk; he was as menacing and ominous as a bear let out of its cage. But behind his clumsy movements was a slick-edged mind that missed nothing.
The chamber was high-ceilinged, done in ancient wood panels, probably from some ancient monastery. The whole structure was much like a church, domed and ribbed, its upper limits dissolving in amber gloom, thick beams charred and hard-smoked from countless fires roaring in the stone fireplace below. Everything was massive and heavy. There were rich deep colors; the stones themselves were rubbed black with ingrained ash, the upright supports as thick as tree-logs. Benteley touched a dully-gleaming panel. The wood was corroded, but strangely smooth, as if a layer of cloudy light had settled over it and worked its way into the material.
“This wood,” Verrick said, noticing Benteley, “is from a medieval bawdy
“What’s this all about?” Benteley demanded. The car shuddered, as magnetic grapple-beams caught it and lowered it toward the winking buildings below. “We have a right to know something.”
“We’re going to have a little party,” Eleanor said, with a smile that barely moved her thin crimson lips. She allowed the car to settle into a concave lock and come finally to rest against a magnetic disc. With a quick snap she cut the power and threw open the doors. “Get out. We’re here.”
Their heels clattered in the deserted corridor, as Eleanorled them rapidly from one level to the next. A few silent uniformed guards stood at regular intervals, their pudding faces sleepy and impassive, bulging rifles gripped loosely.
Eleanor waved open a double-sealed door and nodded them briskly inside. A billow of fragrant air lapped around them as they pushed uncertainly past her, inside the chamber.
Reese Verrick stood with his back to them. He was fumbling angrily with something, massive arms moving in a slow grind of rage. “How the hell do you work this damn thing?” he bellowed irritably. The protesting shrill of torn metal grated briefly. “Christ, I think I broke it.”
“Here,” Herb Moore said, emerging from a deep low chair in the corner. “You have no manual dexterity.”
“You bet,” Verrick growled. He turned, a huge hunched-over bear, his shaggy brows protruding bone-hard, thick and belligerent. His blazing eyes bored at the three newcomers as they stood uneasily together. Eleanor Stevens unzipped her greatcoat and tossed it over the back of a luxurious couch.
“Here they are,” she said to Verrick. “They were all together, enjoying themselves.” She stalked over, long-legged in her velvet slacks and leather sandals and stood before the fire warming her breasts and shoulders. In the flickering firelight her naked flesh glowed a deep luminous red.
Verrick turned without ceremony to Benteley. “Always be where I can find you.” He bit his words out contemptuously.
“I don’t have any more teeps around to thought-wave people in. I have to find them the hard way.” He jerked his thumb at Eleanor. “She came along, but minus ability.”
Eleanor smiled bleakly and said nothing.
Verrick spun around and shouted at Moore, “Is that damn thing fixed or not?”
“It’s almost ready.”
Verrick grunted sourly. “This is a sort of celebration,” hesaid to Benteley, “although I don’t know what we’ve got to celebrate.”
Moore strolled over, confident and full of talk, a sleek little model of an interplan rocket in his hands. “We’ve got plenty to celebrate. This is the first time a Quizmaster chose an assassin. Pellig isn’t somebody chosen by a bunch of senile old fogies; Verrick has had him on tap and this whole thing worked out since—”
“You talk too much,” Verrick cut in. “You’re too damn full of easy words. Half of them don’t mean a thing.”
Moore laughed gaily. “That’s what the Corps found out.”
Benteley moved uncomfortably away. Verrick was slightly drunk; he was as menacing and ominous as a bear let out of its cage. But behind his clumsy movements was a slick-edged mind that missed nothing.
The chamber was high-ceilinged, done in ancient wood panels, probably from some ancient monastery. The whole structure was much like a church, domed and ribbed, its upper limits dissolving in amber gloom, thick beams charred and hard-smoked from countless fires roaring in the stone fireplace below. Everything was massive and heavy. There were rich deep colors; the stones themselves were rubbed black with ingrained ash, the upright supports as thick as tree-logs. Benteley touched a dully-gleaming panel. The wood was corroded, but strangely smooth, as if a layer of cloudy light had settled over it and worked its way into the material.
“This wood,” Verrick said, noticing Benteley, “is from a medieval bawdy
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