In the Beginning (21 page)

Archman turned back to the door. He heard Elissa’s faint cries within.

But there was no sign of a lever. How did the door open? He ran up and down the length of the cell block, looking for some control that would release the girl.

There was none.

“Step back from the door. I’m going to try to blast it open.”

He turned the zam-gun to full force and cut loose. The micronite door glowed briefly, but that was all. A mere zam-gun wouldn’t break through.

Angrily Archman kicked at the door, and a hollow boom resounded. Time was running short, and the girl was irretrievably locked in. The door obviously worked on some secret principle known only to the jailers, and there was no chance for him to discover the secret now.

“Elissa—can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Faintly.

“There’s no way I can get you out. I can’t stay here; there’s certain to be someone here before long.”

“Go, then. Leave me here. There’s no sense in both of us being trapped.”

He smiled. There seemed to be a warmth in her voice that had been absent before. “Good girl,” he said. “Sorry—but—”

“That’s all right. You’d better hurry!”

Archman turned, stepped over the fallen form of the Plutonian jailer, and dashed the length of the dungeon, toward the winding stairs that led upward. He had no idea where he was heading, only knew he had to escape.

The stairs were dark; visibility was poor. He ran at top speed, zam-gun holstered but ready to fly into action at an instant’s notice.

He rounded a curve in the staircase and started on the next flight. Suddenly a massive figure stepped out of the shadows on the landing, and before Archman could do anything he felt himself enmeshed in a giant’s grip.

***

Hendrin froze in the kneeling position, waiting for Darrien to enter the room.

The diminutive tyrant wore a loose saffron robe, and he was frowning grimly. Hendrin wondered if this were the
real
Darrien, or the duplicate he had seen before—or perhaps another duplicate entirely.

“You keep strange company, Meryola,” Darrien said icily. “I thought to find you alone.”

Hendrin rose and faced Darrien. “Sire—”

“Oh! The Mercurian who bought me the fair wench! I’m glad to see you here too. I have a question for the two of you.”

“Which is?” Meryola asked.

Instead of answering, Darrien paced jerkily around the chamber, peering here and there. Finally he looked up.

“The girl,” he boomed. “Elissa. What have you done with her?”

Hendrin stared blankly at Darrien, grateful for the hard mask of a Mercurian’s face that kept him from betraying his emotions. As for Meryola, she merely sneered.

“Your new plaything, Darrien? I haven’t seen her since this Mercurian unveiled her before you.”

“Hmm. Hendrin, what were you doing here, anyway?”

The Mercurian tensed. “Milady wished to speak to me,” he said, throwing the ball to her. In a situation like this it didn’t pay to be a gentleman. “I was about to receive her commands when you entered, sire.”

“Well, Meryola?”

She favored Hendrin with a black look and said, “I was about to send the Mercurian on an errand to the perfumers’ shop. My stocks are running low.”

Darrien chuckled. “Clever, but you’ve done better, I fear. There are plenty of wenches around who’ll run your errands—and your supply of perfumes was replenished but yesterday.” The little man’s eyes burnt brightly with the flame of his malevolent intelligence. “I don’t know why you try to fool me, Meryola, but I’ll be charitable and accept your word for more than it’s worth.”

He fixed both of them with a cold stare. “I suspect you two of a conspiracy against Elissa—and you, Mercurian, are particularly suspect. Meryola, you’ll pay if the girl’s been harmed. And, Hendrin—I want the girl back.”

“Sire, I—”

“No discussion! Mercurian, bring back the girl before nightfall, or you’ll die!”

Darrien scowled blackly at both of them, then turned sharply on his heel and stalked out. Despite his four feet of height, he seemed an awesome, commanding figure.

The door closed loudly.

“I didn’t expect that,” Meryola said. “But I should have. Darrien is almost impossible to deceive.”

“What do we do now?” Hendrin said. “The girl, milady—”

“The girl is in the dungeons, awaiting execution. She’ll be dead before Darrien discovers where she is.”

Hendrin rubbed his dome-like head. “You heard what Darrien said, though. Either I produce the girl or I die. Do you think he’ll go through with it?”

“Darrien always means what he says. Unfortunately for you, so do I.” She stared coldly at him. “The girl is in the dungeons. Leave her there. If you
do
produce the girl alive
I’ll
have you killed.”

Hendrin nodded unhappily. “Milady—”

“No more, now. Get away from me before Darrien returns. I want to take his mind off Elissa until the execution’s past. Then it will be too late for him to complain. Leave me.”

Baffled, Hendrin turned away and passed through the door into the hallway, which was dimly lit with levon-tubes. He leaned against the wall for a moment, brooding.

Events had taken a deadly turn. He had interposed himself between Darrien and Meryola, and now he was doomed either way. If he failed to restore Elissa to Darrien, the tyrant would kill him—but if he did bring back the Earthgirl, Meryola would have him executed. He was caught either way.

For once his nimble mind was snared. He shook his head moodily.

The girl was in the dungeon. The shadow of a plan began to form in his mind—a plan that might carry him on to success. He would need help, though. He would need an accomplice for this; it was too risky a maneuver to attempt to carry off himself.

The first step, he thought, would be to free the girl. That was all-important. With her dead, there was no chance for success.

Quickly he found the hall that led toward the stairs, and entered the gloomy, dark stairwell. He started downward, downward, around the winding metal staircase, heading for the dungeons where he had left the girl.

There was a sound as of distant thunder coming from below. Someone running up the stairs, Hendrin wondered? He paused, listening.

The noise grew louder. Yes. Someone was coming.

Cautiously he stepped back into the shadows of the landing, and peered downward waiting to see who was coming.

He could see, on the winding levels below, the figure—the figure of an Earthman.
By Hargo,
he thought.
It’s the one who tried to buy the girl from me—Archman! What’s he doing here?

Then the Mercurian thought:
He’s shifty. Perhaps I can use him.

He ducked back into the shadows and waited. A moment later Archman, breathless, came racing up the stairs. Hendrin let him round the bend, then stepped out of the darkness and seized the Earthman firmly.

***

Lon Archman stiffened tensely as the unknown attacker’s arms tightened about his chest. He struggled to free his hands, to get at the zam-gun, but it was impossible. The assailant held his arms pinioned in an unbreakable hold.

He squirmed and kicked backward; his foot encountered a hard surface.

A deep voice said, “Hold still, Archman! I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“Hendrin. The Mercurian. Where are you heading?”

“None of your business,” Archman said. “Let go of me.”

To his surprise, the blue alien said, “All right.” Archman found himself free. He stepped away and turned, one hand on his zam-gun.

The Mercurian was making no attempt at an attack. “I want to talk to you,” Hendrin said.

“Talk away,” Archman snapped.

“Where are you coming from? What are you doing in the palace, anyway?”

“I’m coming from the dungeons, where I was tossed by some of Darrien’s tunnel guards. I’m escaping. Understand that? And as soon as I’m through telling you this, I’m going to blast a hole in you so you don’t carry the word back to your master Darrien.”

Surprise and shock were evident on the Mercurian’s face.“Escaping? From Darrien?”

“Yes.”

“Strange. From our brief meeting I thought you were loyal. Who are you, Archman?”

“That doesn’t much concern you.” He gestured impatiently with the zam-gun, but he was reluctant to blast the Mercurian down. It seemed that the blue man was concealing something that could be important.

There was a curious expression on the Mercurian’s hard-shelled face, as well. Archman looked warily around; no one was in sight. He wondered just how loyal to Darrien the Mercurian was…and if Hendrin could be used to further his own ends.

“I’ve just been talking to that girl you brought in here,” he said. “What’s she doing in the dungeons? I thought you were going to sell her to Darrien.”

“I did. Darrien’s mistress Meryola had a fit of jealousy and ordered the girl killed, while Darrien’s back was turned.”

“I see!” Archman now understood a number of things. “All’s not well between Darrien and his mistress, then?” He grinned. “And you’re the cause of the trouble, I’ll bet.”

“Exactly,” said the Mercurian. “You say the girl’s still in the dungeons alive?”

Archman nodded. “For the time being. She’s locked in, but the jailer’s dead. I killed him when I escaped.”

“Hmm. I’m in a funny fix—Darrien wants me to get the girl back for him, or else he’ll kill me—but if I return the girl Meryola kills me. It’s a tight squeeze for me.”

“I’ll say.” Plans were forming rapidly in Archman’s mind. If he could get the girl out of the dungeon, and somehow manipulate her and this Mercurian, who was undeniably in a bad situation—

“Earthman, can I trust you to keep your tongue quiet?” Hendrin asked suddenly.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’ll have to take my chances then. But you’re a renegade; I’ll assume your highest loyalty isn’t to Darrien but to yourself. Am I right?”

“You could be,” Archman admitted.

“Okay. How would you like to have that girl for yourself, plus half a million credas? It can be arranged, if you’ll play along with me.”

Archman allowed a crafty glint of greediness to shine in his eyes, and said, “You kidding?”

“Mercurians generally play for keeps. I’m telling the truth. Are you interested? The girl, and half a million platinum credas.”

“Who foots the bill?”

There was a long pause. Then Hendrin said, “Krodrang. The Overlord of Mercury. I’m in his pay.”

A tremor of astonishment rocked Archman, nearly throwing him off guard. He mastered himself and said, “I thought you were one of Darrien’s men. What’s this about Krodrang?”

Lowering his voice and peering cautiously around the stairs, the Mercurian said: “Krodrang is one who would usurp the power of Darrien. I’m on Mars for the purpose of killing Darrien and stealing his power. If you’ll play along with me, I’ll see to it that you get the girl—and Krodrang is not a poor man.”

Archman was totally amazed. So there were
two
assassins out for Darrien’s neck!
Well,
he thought,
between us we ought to get him.

But as he stared at the Mercurian, he knew that killing Darrien would not end the job. Hendrin would have to go, too—or else he’d get back to Krodrang with the plans for the Clanton Mine, the orthysynthetic robots, and other of Darrien’s secrets, and Earth would face attack from Mercury.

It would take delicate handling. But for the moment Archman had an ally working toward the same end he was.

“Well?” Hendrin asked. “What do you say?”

“Kill Darrien and collect from Krodrang, eh? It sounds good to me. Only—how are you going to get at Darrien? Those orthysynthetic robots—”

“Meryola knows which of the Darriens is real and which a robot. And she’s scared stiff that the Earthgirl’s going to replace her in Darrien’s affections. I’ve got an idea,” Hendrin said. “We can play Darrien and Meryola off against each other and get everything we want from them. It’s tricky, but I think you’re a good man, Earthman—and I
know
I am.”

He had the Mercurian’s characteristic lack of modesty, Archman thought. The Earthman wondered how far he could trust the blueskin.

It looked good. As long as the Mercurian thought that Archman was simply a mercenary selling out to the highest bidder and not a dedicated Earthman with a stake of his own in killing Darrien, all would be well.

“Where do we begin?” Archman asked.

“We begin by shaking hands. From now on we’re in league to assassinate the tyrant Darrien, you and I.”

“Done!” Archman gripped the Mercurian’s rough paw tightly.

“All right,” Hendrin said. “Let’s get down to the dungeon and free Elissa. Then I’ll explain the plan I’ve got in mind.”

***

In the musty, dank darkness of the dungeon level, Archman said, “She’s in that cell—the third one from the left. But I don’t know how to open it. There’s a Martian in there with her.”

“How did that happen?”

“They came to get me—Dorvis Graal wanted to question me on some silly matter, which is why I was being held here. I decided to make a break for it. The door was closing as I ran out. The girl and the Martian were trapped inside.”

“And you couldn’t get them out?”

“No,” Archman said. “I couldn’t figure out how to open the door again. I tried, but it was no go, so I started up the stairs. Then you caught me.”

The Mercurian nodded. Suddenly he stumbled and grunted a sharp Mercurian curse.

“What happened?”

“Tripped on something.” He looked down and said, “By the fins I’d say it’s a Plutonian. His head’s been blown off with a zam-gun.”

“That’s the jailer,” Archman said. “I killed him when I escaped.”

“He would have known how to open this damned lock, too. Well, I guess it couldn’t be helped. Did you try blasting this door open with your gun?”

“Wouldn’t work. The door heated up, but that was all.”

Again the Mercurian grunted. He began to grope along the wall, feeling his way, looking for a switch. Archman joined him, even though in the murky darkness he could scarcely see. The Mercurian’s eyes were much sharper. A Mercurian needed extraordinary eyes: they had to filter out the fantastic glare of the sun in one hemisphere, and yet be able to see in the inky gloom of Mercury’s nightside.