Part 36 (1/2)

”And when you have that place looted out, try Abaddon. You were aground there, Captain Esthersan. You know what all Dunnan left there.”

A couple of s.p.a.ce Vikings--no, Royal Army of Tanith men--brought in the old woman, dirty, in rags, almost exhausted.

”She wants to talk to Prince Bentrik; won't talk to anybody else.

Says she knows where the King is.”

Bentrik rose quickly, brought her to a chair, poured a gla.s.s of wine for her.

”He's still alive, Your Highness. The Crown Princess Melanie and I ... I'm sorry, Your Highness; Dowager Crown Princess ... have been taking care of him, the best way we could. If you'll only come quickly....”

Mikhyl VIII, Planetary King of Marduk, lay on a pallet of filthy bedding on the floor of a narrow room behind a ma.s.s-energy converter which disposed of the rubbish and sewage and generated power for some of the fixed equipment on one of the middle floors of the east wing of the palace. There was a bucket of water, and on a rough wooden bench lay a cloth-wrapped bundle of food. A woman, haggard and disheveled, wearing a suit of greasy mechanic's coveralls and nothing else, squatted beside him. The Crown Princess Melanie, whom Trask remembered as the charming and gracious hostess of Cragdale.

She tried to rise, and staggered.

”Prince Bentrik! And it's Prince Trask of Tanith!” she cried.

”Just hurry; get him out of here and to where he can be taken care of. Please.” Then she sat down again on the floor and fell over, unconscious.

They couldn't get the story. The Princess Melanie had collapsed completely. Her companion, another n.o.blewoman of the court, could only ramble disconnectedly. And the King merely lay, bathed and fed in a clean bed, and looked up at them wonderingly, as though nothing he saw or heard conveyed any meaning to him. The doctors could do nothing.

”He has no mind, no more mind than a new-born baby. We can keep him alive, I don't know how long. That's our professional duty. But it's no kindness to His Majesty.”

The little pockets of resistance in the Palace were wiped out, through the next morning and afternoon. All but one, far underground, below the main power plant. They tried sleep-gas; the defenders had blowers and sent it back at them. They tried blasting; there was a limit to what the fabric of the building would stand.

And n.o.body knew how long it would take to starve them out.

On the third day, a man crawled out, pus.h.i.+ng a white s.h.i.+rt tied to the barrel of a carbine ahead of him.

”Is Prince Lucas Trask of Tanith here?” he asked. ”I won't speak to anybody else.”

They brought Trask quickly. All that was visible of the other man was the carbine-barrel and the white s.h.i.+rt. When Trask called to him, he raised his head above the rubble behind which he was hiding.

”Prince Trask, we have Andray Dunnan here; he was leading us, but now we've disarmed him and are holding him. If we turn him over to you, will you let us go?”

”If you all come out unarmed, and bring Dunnan with you, I promise you, the rest of you will be let outside this building and allowed to go away unharmed.”

”All right. We'll be coming out in a minute.” The man raised his voice. ”It's agreed!” he called. ”Bring him out.”