"I'm out a lot," he said. "Working in the fields and when I get back home I'm too tired to do much more than sleep. I didn't hear anything and I don't know what went on."
"Failure, Earl," said Ursula as the man left. "There's no one else."
"One more," he corrected. "The rooms back of the bedroom aren't exactly in line. They're offset a little and the corner of one overlaps this chamber. We've still a chance."
One which faded as he saw the person who occupied the room. An old woman who blinked and cringed and backed as he stepped forward to take her arm.
"Relax, mother," he soothed. "No one is going to hurt you."
"Men," she said in a thin, dry voice. "Running and pushing people about and all that screaming. It wasn't like this in the old days. I lived in a bigger place then with Arold and my two sons. They've gone now and only I'm left." She sucked at her lips. "Should have left me," she said. "That was my house. They should have let me keep it."
"It was too large for you," said Ursula. "How could you have kept it clean?"
Logic which had no place in the old woman's world. She glared and turned away then halted as Dumarest stepped before her.
"They made a mistake, mother," he said. "You'll get your house back if you can help us. Now, let's play a little game. If this were your bedroom, where would your bed be positioned?" He nodded as she pointed. "The head against the wall, eh?"
"In the corner, mister. Where else?"
"And you need a lot of rest. At your age that's to be expected."
"I'm not too old to clean!"
"No, I'm sure you're not, but you like to go to bed early, right? And sleep."
"When I can," she grumbled. "When the noise lets me. All that scraping-why don't they do something about the rats?"
"Scraping," said Dumarest. "You heard a lot of scraping. When? Yesterday?"
"Days ago-I can't remember."
"And talking?"
"That too. Some people have no consideration for an old woman. If Arold and my sons were alive they'd have put a stop to it. Up half the night and sometimes until dawn. Talking and laughing and singing, too, at times. Young villains! Someone should do something about people like that."
"We're going to," promised Dumarest. "When we find them. Now listen carefully, mother. Did you hear them a little while ago?"
"Yes. Bumping and banging and arguing. One of them had a loud voice and my head was against the wall."
"One of them? How many were there?"
"I don't know. Several, I think. One was called Balain. He was the one with the loud voice and he seemed to be giving the orders. Am I going to get my old house back? I can keep it clean."
"Yes," said Dumarest. "That's a promise." Gently he took the thin shoulders in his hands and looked into the faded eyes. "Now just one more thing, mother. Think carefully and tell me if Balain or any of the others said what they were going to do or where they were going."
"Into the city. They were going into the city."
"Among the Choud? And?"
"Get hurry."
"What?"
"Hurry," said the old woman impatiently. "The man with the loud voice said they had to get hurry. That's all I know. When do I get my house, Mister?"
Ursula said, after she had gone, "A waste of time, Earl. The old woman was almost senile. The men are probably far into the plains by now."
"What would they do with explosives in the plains? How would that destroy the Choud?"
"They can't destroy us, Earl."
A confidence he didn't share. Balain would have known what he was doing and speed would be important, but hurry? Get hurry? How could hurry be a target? Not hurry, then, but a word like it. One distorted by the wall and the onset of sleep. Urry? Huri?
Hury!
He said, "They're after Hury. Can they get it?"
"No." Ursula was positive. "It is guarded and there is Only one way to reach it."
"Only one way? In a city? You really believe that?"
"Earl-"
"The sewers, Ursula! They're using the sewers!"
Chapter Thirteen
They ran beneath the jewel-like houses and the neatly kept terraces in a maze of twisting tunnels lit at intervals, damp, noisome, their brooding silence broken only by the susurration of water, the splash of adapted life.
"Rats." Ursula shivered as something darted into the water ahead to leave a trail of widening ripples. "This place must be alive with them."
"They won't hurt you."
"Maybe not." She didn't share Dumarest's confidence. "I hate the creatures. They could be everywhere."
If so they stayed but of sight as did other things which had made the subterranean complex their home. Webs festooned the glowing bowls of luminescence, their delicate, lace-like strands turning the cold glare into a nacreous glow which was reflected in broad lines of deposited slime on the curving sides of the passages and the raised concrete platform which provided dry footing. Bridges crossed the catwalk at intervals to provide access to branches and tributary passages. Echoes rose from the impact of their feet to die murmuring in the distance.
In the lead Dumarest halted, dropping to his knees as he examined the path. He rubbed at the surface, examined the grime on his finger, looked again before rising. Ursula looked at him.
"Earl?"
"We could have found their trail. One must have slipped and the edge of his shoe had scraped the concrete."
A guard said, "It could have happened weeks ago."
"No. The mark is recent or it would have been washed clean of fragments." Dumarest stared ahead to where the tunnel branched. "Send men ahead to search for further traces."
They edged past, the beams of their flashlights making hard circles of brilliance against the stained walls, the turgid water. Dumarest felt the woman close to his side. She was shivering beneath her cloak.
"You're cold," he said. "You should have waited on the surface."
"No." She stared at the bobbing lights. "Why don't they hurry?"
"Give them time." Dumarest saw a light steady and heard the call. "They've found something."
A patch of lichen had been scraped from a wall to leave a relatively light patch. Dumarest examined it, felt the ripped patch of primitive growth, and looked at the woman.
"Would this take them in the right direction?"
"They could have taken either path. The other would take them to a main junction and they would have to swing around the initial processing area. This would take them to the tributary inlets from the west."
"This is the way they came," said Dumarest. The marks could have been deliberately placed but the odds were against it, Amateur conspirators would have no time or thought for such deceptions and, as yet, they wouldn't know they were being followed. "Let everyone keep a watch for more signs and avoid making any noise."
The tunnels were sounding tubes and small sounds would be magnified. Something which worked both ways but, though Dumarest had called a halt several times in order to listen, he'd heard nothing.
"Hurry," said Ursula. "We must hurry!"
A reversal of her previous confidence when she had been certain nothing could threaten the Choud. Only when she'd learned of an alternative route to Hury had she displayed a nervous anxiety. One shared by the guards.
Dumarest thinned his lips as one called to him from where he'd halted ahead.
"Keep your voice down, damn you! What is it?"
"A branch." The man pointed. "Which way do we go? Left or right?"
"Ursula?" Then, as she made no answer Dumarest snapped, "What's the matter? Doesn't any of you know how these sewers run?"
"Not the entire system."
"But you know where the target is?"
"Of course, but all these passages are confusing." She kept her voice low, words echoing to be lost in the susurration of the water. "A thing which will have to be rectified but who could have guessed we should need the information?"