"We need your help," Ogram went on, his eyes going back to Dorland. "The situation at home has gone from bad to impossible. Sabastian wants you to come back."
Another statement that made no sense to Paul. He and Dorland had left their homeworld of
Farrady three weeks ago to begin the tour, but he had been in daily contact with Trisha. She would have told him if any "situation" had developed that involved Dorland.
"High Elder Brill is turning out to be even worse than we thought," Ogram went on. "He's more destructive than all the other High Elders together. He's using Lord Tern's revelations as an excuse to commit the worst atrocities you can imagine. Sabastian says we have to stop him." Ogram paused, his eyes remaining fixed on Dorland. "We sent a man into the sacred chamber. Cleve
Quinton." He nodded. "Yes, I thought you would remember Cleve. He was a good friend of mine." Dorland spoke for the first time, his voice low and flat. "Cleve went to the chamber?"
"Like I said, we're desperate. Cleve saw something in the chamber that made him lose his mind. Then the deacons killed him."
A long silence drew out. Paul waited, gripping the arms of his chair, his eyes on Dorland. Lord Tern. High Elder Alban Brill. The religious implications were obvious enough, but Paul was sure he had never heard the names before.
When Dorland spoke again, his voice was
strained, the words hesitant. "Sabastian—he is well?"
24
William Greenleaf
Ogram flip-flopped a hand. "As well as can be expected at his age. He lost a leg three years ago fighting his way out of a trap the deacons left for him. A doctor from Fairhope fitted a wooden peg for him. He gets by."
Dorland's eyes dropped to his hands. "Blackburn?"
"Ah, yes. Olaf is still with us. Not K-amer, though. He and Brit Jones were pinned to the God Wall last year."
Something like a sigh escaped Dorland's compressed lips. Then: "My father knew violence would break out eventually. His main goal was to prevent it."
"High Elder Brill started it, not us," Ogram said defensively. "You should know that. Sabastian says you're the only one who might be able to find out what Brill is up to. He says your early training will help you find a way to stop him." He paused, watching Dorland. "You ran out on us once. There's no reason to think you would come back now. But Sabastian says you're our last hope. He also says that you have to come back on your own. He doesn't want me to force you."
Paul issued a grunt of humorless laughter.
"That's why you brought the gun?"
"I brought the gun to make sure nobody tried to stop me until I could get my piece said."
"You've done that. Now you can get out."
"I'm waiting for the answer."
"His answer is no—"
"You're probably right," Ogram said. He slumped further down in the chair with his legs straight out in front of him. Crossed at the ankles. The black gun was held loosely in his lap. The tension in his, face gave way to a look of heavylidded unconcern. "But I have to hear it from the great psi-player himself."
CLARION 25
Paul turned to Dorland. "Tell him you aren't interested so he'll get out of here."
Dorland' nodded slightly, but his eyes were on Ogram. "I'm sorry about John. He was a good man. I owe him my life."
"Well, at least you acknowledge that."
"I didn't run out. I wanted to stay, but Sabastian pushed me."
"Then you'll come back?"
"I can't. We're on a tour, booked for five more shows."
Ogram's eyelids lifted slightly. "You don't believe the future of Clarion and thousands of lives are worth your five precious shows?" He waited. Then his lips formed the slight, mocking smile.
"No, I suppose not." He gathered his legs in front of him and pushed himself out of the chair. He stood looking at Dorland with the gun down at his side. "It's too bad High Elder Brill couldn't see your show today. He would have been amused. Actually, it's not too different from his own Godsday service." He issued a short bark of laughter. "Unfortunately, Bekman won't be able to give him a report about it."
It took Paul a moment to recall that Ogram had used the name earlier. "Bekman's the man who tried to kill Dorland?"
Ogram nodded. "Lon Bekman. One of Brill's deacons. Slimy scum. I hope he dies and burns on the Far Peaks with the rest of them. I tried to warn you about him."
"You're the one who called the hotel before the show?"
"Little good it did. When I saw Bekman up there by the stage, I realized I was too far away to stop him." He considered. "Not sure I would have tried, anyway. Bekman was very good with the burp
gun." Ogram's eyes drifted slowly back to Dorland. 26 William Greenleaf
"Now that High Elder Brill knows where you are, he'll send someone else after you. He's got ten more like Bekman, and he won't give up." He shrugged.
"Of course, you can always pack up and run again." There was a knock at the door. Ogram spun
around, startled. The knock came again.
"Damn!" Ogram hissed. He glanced at the wardrobe, then moved to the open window and looked through it. The window overlooked a broad expanse of lawn. Paul knew it was at least a threemeter drop to the ground.
"Guess I can make that," Ogram said doubtfully. Then, to Dorland: "You won't change your mind and come along?"
Dorland stared at him without speaking.
"Doesn't surprise me," Ogram said. He tucked the gun into a pocket of his coveralls and turned to grasp the windowsill. He pulled himself up and over and disappeared. Paul heard a single muted oof! before the knock came again at the door, louder and more insistent. He got up and crossed the room to unlock the door. As it sighed open, he heard Steph Hendrikson's voice raised in anger:
"—told you that Mr. Avery was not to be disturbed!" What now! Paul felt close to the end of his patience. He stepped back as a man in a uniform strode into the room, followed by a red-faced Hendrikson. Two burly guardsmen stood just outside the door.
"I'm Erich Frakes," the officer said to Dorland, moving his eyes slightly to include Paul in the introduction. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a full face that was scarred across one cheek by a badly healed sizzler bum. He wasn't a Guard officer—the gray-and-black uniform was of the Security Section. The emblem on his lapel identified him as a captain. "I'm with Omega Security, on temporary assignment to the local—"
CLARION
27
"That doesn't mean you have the right to charge in here like you own the place," Hendrikson snarled, his cheeks blazing.
"It's all right, Steph," Paul said, touching the young man's arm to calm him down. Confrontations always upset Dorland's delicate nervous system, and his nerves had already been put through enough for one day. But Paul was curious about the captain's statement. "A report has already been filed with the Guard. Why is Security involved?"
Frakes shrugged as if the matter didn't concern him. "Sabre thinks the men who attacked Mr. Avery may be involved in an interstream matter."
"Parke Sabre?" Paul said with surprise. Parke Sabre was Security Director for Omega Centauri Sector, and the highest ranking UNSA official in the Omega Sector. "Why is he interested in this?" Frakes moved his shoulders slightly. "Maybe you ought to ask him. He's waiting at the local Guard office."
30 William Greenleaf
horizon when Frakes guided the Aire Vega down toward a connected group of modem, cubelike office buildings. Thick vegetation surrounded the complex, and farther out Paul could see residential clusters—large, rambling buildings in brown and beige.
Frakes landed in an open stall on the roof of one of the mid-level buildings and popped open the Aire Vega's gullwing doors. The whine of the engine keened downscale.
"How long will this take?" Paul asked as he ducked under the door and stepped onto the tiled roof. "Mr. Avery has another show in two hours."
"No problem," Frakes said in a tone that revealed little concern. Not his problem, he means, Paul thought angrily.
Frakes led them in a diagonal line across the roof, picking his way easily through the parked flyers and streamcraft until he reached a section of the building that jutted above the parking level. He thumbed the lock of an unmarked door and led the way into a narrow, brightly lighted corridor. The two guardsmen stepped in behind them, but turned down another hallway and disappeared without a word.
The corridor was lined with numbered, woodveneer doors and opened into a lobby farther down. Paul heard distant voices and the erratic chatter of a high-speed printer. Frakes stopped in front of one of the doors before they reached the lobby. He thumbed the lock and pushed open the door, then moved out of the way to let Paul and Dorland step through into a small conference room.
"Sabre's on his way down. Have a seat if you want."
Paul turned to ask a question, but the door had already closed behind Frakes with a soft whirring sound.