However, for the moment they left him. His nose told Troy he was still in the storeroom of the shop, the bag of grain propping his shoulders. Beyond that there was little that hearing, touch, or smell could add. Time had long ceased to have any meaning at all in his blindfolded world—this might be tomorrow, or several tomorrows, after that hour when he had dumped the animals in the Wild.
The animals! Once more he put his newly alerted mind to trying to establish contact with them. If they had been located and captured, he could not tell, for to all his soundless calls there came no replies.
Click of boot soles, the scrape of the door panel, boot soles again much louder. Then the smell of clothes worn about animals too long—the odor of a human body. Troy found a snatch of time in which to marvel at his heightened sense of smell.
There was a tug at the bindings about his ankles, those bonds pulled off. Then a hand dug fingers into his shoulder.
“Up and walk, Dippleman! You go on your own two feet this time.”
He staggered a step or two, brought up painfully against the sharp edge of a box. The hand came again to steer him with a shove that made him waver. So propelled, he emerged into the courtyard, heard the purr of a waiting flitter ready to take off.
His guard steered him to the flyer, and he was loaded by two men, not into the driver’s seat but once more into that storage space in which he had ridden back to Tikil. He was sure of only two things: that Zul was in charge of his transportation—he had heard the small man’s grunt of assent from the pilot’s seat before they lilted—and that the Thieves’ Guild, Blasterman’s Section (highest paid of all the illegal services on Korwar), was in command of the prisoner’s keeping, which was enough to dampen thoroughly all hopes of escape, or even of a try at defense.
Seventeen
But their lift into space was a very short one—perhaps it only cleared the division between courtyard and street. They descended gently, the wheels touched pavement, and the flitter proceeded as a ground car. Which meant that their destination was somewhere within the business sector of the city and not one of the outlying villas. A warehouse—an office? It would have to be where the entrance of a blindfolded, bound man, accompanied by at least one guard, would not attract attention. If this was night, a goal in the business district or among the warehouses would meet those requirements.
Troy tried to remember the geography of Tikil in relation to Kyger’s but found that a hopeless task. Unless he was on his feet in the open, his eyes unbandaged, he could not even effectively retrace his way to the Dipple.
They turned once, twice, their speed a decorous one well within the limit. And undoubtedly they were taking every precaution against any irregularity of action or appearance that could awaken suspicion in a patroller’s mind. The Guild were skilled workmen and this was a Guild protection project, which meant that Troy might well be on his way to some hidden head- quarters of that power. Only he did not believe so. It was more likely he was being taken to face, or at least be inspected by, Zul’s new employer.
Another turn. Neither man in the driver’s seat spoke. Troy deduced by the volume of street noise that the hour must be one of late evening. They had joined homeward-bound traffic, which meant they were not heading toward the warehouses.
The flitter came to a stop. Troy, with his heightened sense of smell and hearing, knew that one of the men had leaned across the partition and was hanging head and shoulders above him.
“Listen, you.” The words were bitten off dryly, and Troy knew that the speaker meant them. “You are going to get out and walk, Dippleman. And you are going to do it nice and easy without any noise or confusion. I’ll have a nerve-block grip on you all the way. Make any trouble and you will still walk—but not nice and easy. You will sweat blood with every step. Understand?”
Troy nodded his head violently, hoping that the other could see that gesture. He had not the slightest desire to suffer the promised correction for the fault of causing his captor any trouble.
The other assisted him out of the flitter and kept a tight fingerhold on him. They walked, as his guard had promised, “nice and easy” across a strip of pavement.
Troy sniffed vegetation. They must be in a dwelling- house district. There was a slight pause, probably waiting for the householder to release a door-panel lock. Then their slow march started once again, the click of boot heels deadened by foam-set floor covering.
Troy’s head jerked suddenly. Just as he had known they had returned him to Kyger’s storeroom, so did he now guess where he stood. There could not be two such establishments in Tikil! But knowledge brought with it complete bewilderment—almost shock.
What did the clerk Dragur, living in the midst of a collection of marine horrors, have to do with Kyger’s secret employment?
On the other hand—Troy’s thoughts readjusted quickly—the colorless man’s chosen hobby was an excellent cover for a connection between him and the shop, a connection above suspicion, since Dragur’s enthusiasm concerning his pet monsters in their globes and aquariums had not been feigned; Troy would swear to that. His only objection to this new revelation was the character of the man himself. He simply could not visualize Dragur as the mastermind behind anything but fussy details of Korwarian bureaucracy.
Troy’s ears caught the faint plop-plop of water slapping in a bowl as some inhabitant of the marine zoo moved, and he tried to remember how the room had been laid out at the time of his first visit there.
“Here is your man, Citizen, safe and in one piece.” That was his guard reporting.
“Most commendable,” Dragur’s slightly high-pitched voice replied. “But I understand that the shipment is not complete. We were to have a complete shipment, Guildsman, complete.”
“You shall have to ask this one what he did with the others, Citizen. The Big Man will settle with you on the deal. Give me the delivery release.”
“Your Big Man shall also make an adjustment on the fee,” Dragur snapped. “I bargained for a complete shipment. No release until that matter is settled.”
“The Big Man will not feel kindly about that, Citizen.” This was no threat, just a statement of fact, a fact to be accepted when the Guild made it clear.
“Oh, he will not? Well, I share his disappointment!” Dragur actually giggled. “You may tell him that as soon as you wish.”
“No release, no delivery.” The grip on Troy tightened.
“And you think you may march out of here, taking him with you?”
There was a long moment of silence. Troy tried to imagine what might be happening that he could not see.
“Where did you get that?” his guard asked slowly.
“I do not ask questions about the source of your equipment, do I?” countered Dragur. “Now you will remove your hands from my shipment and you will withdraw to your flitter. You have my permission, however, to communicate with your Big Man if you wish. I do not know whether he suffers bungling with patience or not. His reaction to your report you are better able to gauge than I. But you may mention to him, as a mitigating point, that a profitable relationship between ourselves may not be at an end, providing, of course, that we come to an equitable agreement now. I will also indicate that I have contracted for a time guardianship with your organization and that still has several hours to run. I am not in any way breaking contract.”
The hand fell away from Troy. With the grunt of a baffled man who had been outmaneuvered, the guard moved from his side, and a moment later a door panel opened and closed. Troy heard Dragur laugh again.
“He will beam in his Big Man as soon as he thinks matters over. Better get a rating now than a burn later for not reporting.”
“The Guildsmen like their credits.” Zul spoke for the first time.
“But of course, do not all of us? On the other hand their continuing in business—at least the continuance of this particular branch of their business—depends also on a certain integrity. If they promise a shipment in full and deliver only part, then they have broken contract and must take the consequences. But that is a matter to be taken under advisement later. Now, Zul, let us make our visitor more comfortable.”
Fingers pulled at the cords about Troy’s wrists. His arms fell to his sides and then he rubbed his hands together. Another tug and the blindfold was a loop about his throat. He was blinking, dazzled by the light, subdued as it was, in the room.